Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This was a mistake. 

The echoing of his words reared up her throat like acid– burning, clashing, choking her alive. The moonlight ebbed in through the frosted windows of her room as she fought to take in a breath, the loss of control tightening in her chest.

This was a mistake. 

He’d walked away, leaving her stunned in the foyer, her eyes still half closed, lips parted, her heart still beating like drums of war.  

The necklace stung as she ripped it off, the delicate chain sure to leave a mark on her skin, a physical reminder of  the dismissal she’d suffered tonight. The door made no sounds as she opened and closed it behind her, shuffling back down the stairs, engulfed still with the shame that seemed to linger in the dark. The fire in the vast sitting room was nearly out now, no noises echoing through the stately home that held her family inside. It felt like it had been hours since, but perhaps it had only been minutes. 

For the first time in recent memory, Elain had done something spur of the moment, entirely for herself. Something beyond expectations, beyond propriety. She hadn’t anticipated it, the sound of his laughter and approval waking something inside her that had been sleeping before. But when he’d touched her skin, she’d thrown caution to the wind. He could have been anyone, the dulcet, low laugh and hot fingers brushing her skin. Everything since she’d come here had been so unsteady, so unsure, but in that moment, she hadn’t cared about anything except the feeling of connection, the touch of skin on skin, the wanting . 

When he shut her down, that cold rejection threatened to swallow her whole again. The memory of the last drowning her in shame.

“But my heart belongs to you.”

“I don’t want it.”

It had just barely stopped haunting her, that very public conversation with her former betrothed. 

“Not you. Never you.”

This was a mistake.

Was there something so horrible and wretched about her that she was to remain alone all her days? Face rejection any time she believed she allowed herself to feel joy? Feel pleasure? 

She threw the necklace onto the pile of Azriel’s gifts that he’d left behind in his hurry to be gone. To be away from her . 

She’d all but thrown herself at him, and still. Still. 

The walls of the room blurred as she turned to go back to her room, but her eyes caught on a movement outside in the falling snow. A twitch of wings in the courtyard. Azriel, catching his death on a wrought-iron patio chair, rather than spend another moment alone with her. 

The anger rose in her like a tidal wave, taking out from shore anything that had been keeping her even remotely rational about this. He’d been the one to encourage this. The stolen glances, the too-long stares. He’d made her think that he wanted her, that she might mean something to him. 

She hadn’t even really cared if it was him, but the attention felt so good, so soothing after so long of feeling wrong in her own skin. All for it to fall apart the moment she gave in.

Just as she debated going to lock the doors so that he could freeze in the cold, he spread his wings and took off, a draft pulling him as he soared above the rooftop. In her anger, Elain flipped her middle finger to some abstract place in the skies. 

She was so angry , so bitter. She could feel it in her body, a living thing in her veins. Why wasn’t she good enough? Why wasn’t she thriving here?

Always, she’d been the adaptable one, the one who could mold herself to fit what was necessary. And what had that gotten her? She was tired of waiting, tired of baking and quietly growing pretty things and pretending . 

Coming here, she’d thought for the longest time that she could keep up with the way she’d been. Sweet, demure Elain, bred for a life of loyalty and love. She’d tried to still be everything Graysen had wanted, had hoped he’d still want her, especially considering she’d given him her body before she’d been Made. More than anything, Elain had wanted normalcy, the known, to hang on to. Even when he’d rejected her, she’d held on to how she was before, hoping a life of the familiar would soothe the horrid ache that had begun to pulse inside her. Acting this way was all she’d had, all she’d been told would bring her love and a husband and a life worthy of living. 

All it had brought her was rage. Deep, boiling rage that had been held back so long it started to demand to be heard.

The flickering in her chest pulsed wildly as she stormed into the sitting room. She was fuming, her always-rigid composure slipping by the moment as she swept back and forth through the room, the door shutting quietly behind her despite her insatiable urge to slam it with all the immortal strength now contained within her body. The heels of her palms pressed firmly into her eyes as she heaved.

This was a mistake .

One of many. 

A mistake. 

She swore her rage could have torn the entire house down, the feelings swirling within her like a maelstrom, wild and untamed and out of control. The low fire gave small flares as she turned on her heel, pacing and running a path into the rug.

That’s twice now, Elain. 

Surely, she couldn’t be the problem? She’d done everything right, everything that was expected of her. 

Mistake. 

Just as she turned again, the anger in her chest working her into a frenzy, her foot caught and she was falling. The air whipped around her strangely, time seeming to slow and warp as she fell to the carpet. But when her hands reached out to catch her, the fabric had changed. 

Where she expected to see the ornate weaving she knew so well from the rug at the River House, now sat a worn and soft carpet. The fibers were cozy beneath her fingers, cushioning the blow as she’d fallen to her knees. 

She wasn’t in the sitting room anymore. She wasn’t in her house at all. 

A dark living room sprawled tidily around her, full windows allowing in the light of the moon. Beneath it, the glow from the fae lamps lining the street outside cast a soft light across the room’s brick-walled interior. The room was small, cozy, though the hearth was left barren and cold. Untouched. Her eyes adjusted as she took it in– empty counters, the untended fireplace, a half drunk glass of water on the table, the green couch with a neatly folded yellow blanket that looked soft as a duckling draped across the back. 

It was the smell that tipped her off. Leather and apples and pine needles soaked in sunlight. She knew the smell because she dreamed of it. She knew the smell because she’d clocked it the very first time he’d been in the same room as her, and she’d never forgotten. She knew the smell because she worried about it fading from the jacket she kept folded and hidden in a box at the back of her closet. She knew the smell as though it were entwined in her very soul itself, because it was. 

This was Lucien’s apartment. 

Without thinking, she inhaled greedily, filling her lungs with it. That bubbling rage evaporated like water on a hot pan. The sweet release of something she couldn’t have, the taste of embracing what she’d so long denied herself. 

Graysen had been an obligation.

Azriel had been a distraction. 

But Lucien was…Lucien was…

A mistake. 

She bit her tongue at the thought, so sharply she tasted the metallic tang of blood immediately coating her mouth. 

Beneath the overwhelming scent of him, she could detect something else with her heightened senses. A smoky, searing, sweet smell of some type of liquor lingered in the air, strong enough that Elain could almost taste it on her tongue. 

A sound to her right left her frozen in place, every fiber of her rigid as she strained to hear. It came again, steadily this time. The sound of his breath sawing steadily in and out in the next room. Lucien was here, sleeping. 

Elain finally put the pieces together. In her anger, she’d winnowed to her mate. Her very first winnow.

His breathing caught then evened out again as Elain got quietly to her feet. Her chest hummed at the proximity, the gentle buzzing of the unfulfilled bond in her chest a solid and constant reminder of who he was to her. Who she was to him.  

She should leave. She still could. 

But standing in his space, amongst his things, she hesitated. 

Before she could think better of it, her feet were following the cord in her chest. She crept on the pads of her stocking feet, whatever preternatural stillness that she’d inherited from the Cauldron allowing her to move in complete silence. The bedroom door was open, that same glow from the night sky spreading a swath of light across the bed. Across him.

Breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, sheet tucked around his naked waist as he slumbered on his stomach. A broad expanse of dark skin visible from the dips at the base of his spine all the way to his arms, one tucked beneath the pillow and another thrown haphazardly out across the bed. She didn’t miss the textured skin, the lines raised across his shoulders and down his back, a road map of the horrors he’d suffered at the hands of many. 

In her dreams, she’d run her fingers across the ridges, allowed her mouth to touch the one that wrapped over his right shoulder and just barely touched his neck. She ached to do it now. His scent was concentrated here, the potency of it as high as she’d ever allowed it, as close as she’d ever come. 

She drew closer still, knowing it was a bad idea, but much too far along to stop herself now. As she rounded the bed, his face came into view, so relaxed in sleep. Peaceful. The urge to lay with him was so physical and profound that she almost gave in. 

Would he startle, horrified at her presence? Or would he simply extend an arm, the bond that connected them lying content in his chest. In both their chests. 

Her fingers reached out, near translucent in the moonlight as they extended towards him. Just barely, she let them graze across his skin. Just barely, did she allow the heat of him to seep into the muscle and bone of her body that otherwise hadn’t felt true warmth since she’d been submerged into those waters so long ago.

She longed to press her lips against his, taste the whiskey that she could smell on his peaceful, steady breaths. The thrumming of their bond synced with the pounding of her heart, an echo of his.

Would he call her a mistake?

The memory of the vision reared its ugly head, as it did every so often to remind her that this was not in the cards for her– no matter how she might want it. Her, curled into the fetal position on a bed, sobbing. His jacket around her shoulders, his scent nearly gone from it. The overwhelming pain in her chest, the loneliness, the heartbreak, the absence of a bond. 

Even the memory of the vision hurt so badly she could hardly stand it.

She would give her heart to him, and he would break it, too. The others stung, the rejection painful. But if Lucien left her, her mate who smelled like the forest and joy, she would never recover. She would never be whole again.

She’d wanted him from the moment their eyes met across a soaked stone floor in a castle far away from here. She’d been soaked to the bone, terrified and cold, but all she’d seen was him. Her sisters forgotten, Grayson a faraway memory, but then, that vision had flashed, her very first. The pain of it felt so real, the gasp dying in her chest as he’d draped that jacket, the jacket over her shoulders. 

A mistake.

She pulled back her hand, taking a single second more to follow the steady movement of his chest as he breathed. 

No matter how much she wanted this, wanted him, Elain wouldn’t allow herself to open to that sort of pain. She’d never survive it.

She inhaled a final time as though she could keep that lovely scent encapsulated in her lungs forever. As though she could pull it out when the feelings became too much, when she couldn't stand it anymore, the way she did with his embroidered jacket. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

Then, Elain turned and left, quietly opening and shutting the front door behind her as she slipped out into the cold ni ght and back to the River House.

Chapter Text

[One Year Later]

The sigh was on her lips when she awoke, perched there like a bird ready to take flight as she whispered his name. 

She’d felt him in her dreams, lips working against her as she rose from the dregs of sleep, already so hot, so wet for him as he dragged his tongue steadily, solidly against her. 

“Lucien.” The name left Elain’s mouth on an exhale. It danced across the room with the motes of dust that sparkled in the early Velaris sun streaming through her windows. 

He grinned against her sex but didn’t relent, that wicked tongue roaming the full length of her as she sighed and stretched with her arms above her head. What a lovely way to wake, the fire already consuming her fully.

His fingers pressed lightly in as they grazed up the expanse of her thighs, sliding around her hips and grabbing full handfuls of her ass. He pressed her impossibly closer to his mouth, his tongue alternating between tight circles on her clit and spearing into her, tasting her. Lucien ate her like a man starved, like she was the only thing that mattered to him, that had ever mattered to him. Like if he released his hold on her, let his tongue leave her, that she may disappear entirely, lost to the wind. 

One of his elegant fingers slipped inside her and her back arched like a bowstring, naked breasts heaving towards the ceiling as she clutched the sheets. She was so wet there was no resistance, nothing but the welcoming noises her body made and his hum of pleasure against her.

“Is that what you wanted, my love?” He punctuated every other word with a languid, open-mouthed kiss to her, each sending bolts of pleasure like lightning to her already tightening spine.

“Please. Please .”

“I do love when you beg me.”

Before she could respond in kind, he’d added another finger, the two working her so precisely she lost all thoughts in her head. 

How could he know her so intimately? Know what she liked so vividly, as though he felt her every want and need?

“I do know your every want and need, mate. Better than anyone else ever could, ” he spoke the words with a possessive growl that sent Elain spiraling, the heat riding her so hard she worried the bed itself would explode into flames. He nipped at her, sharp teeth grazing her most sensitive skin as she bucked into him, the feelings coalescing into a deafening roar of blood in her veins as she barreled towards her orgasm. He pursed his lips around her clit just as he curled the fingers inside her, and Elain came so hard her vision whited out. 

Lucien.

But the word was in her mind this time. 

“Lucien.” She tried speaking it aloud, but her voice was hoarse. She cleared her throat.  “Lucien?” she asked again, but Elain was already aware of what had happened as she opened her eyes to the grey light of morning, her bed empty, sheets tousled and tangled around her legs. 

Hands rubbed tired eyes, the dreary winter rain tapping against the window panes beside her. She was alone, as she had been every morning for the past year. 

It had felt so real. 

It always did.

Elain sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and cringing at the slick mess between her thighs. This was nothing new. In fact, the dreams happened more often than not anymore. She wasn't sure if it was the ignored bond, winding itself tighter and tighter as more time passed, or if it was somehow tied to the visions. She could feel him every time, as though he was there with her. As though he was inside her in more ways than one.

She brushed a swath of messy curls over her shoulder as she yawned. Between the dreams and visions, she didn’t sleep much anymore regardless. 

She padded quietly to her bathroom, thankful that she had one of her own. The fae in this house were all about exchanging scents, smelling each other and commenting on it for every single indiscretion. She found it jarring and crass– not the fact that they were so sexually active, but that they all wanted to share about it with each other. It had taken her the better part of the last two years to control the embarrassing blushing that she was prone to when the conversations and teasing inevitably started up with her in the room. 

She had nothing against a healthy sex life, clearly , even if she didn’t have one of her own. She just didn’t want to hear about everyone else’s. Or have them be aware of her own… urges in such great detail. 

When she awoke from dreams like this, she made a point to bathe before going downstairs, washing the smell of arousal from her entirely and dousing her body in the fragrant floral oils she purchased in the Palaces in the city. If anyone scented it on her past all that, they’d at least had the decency to not mention it to her face. 

She sunk into the warm water, letting tense muscles relax as the heat crept up to her chin. No matter how she washed, she couldn’t get the scent of him out of her nose. Pine needles in the sun as she ran her fingers through his copper hair. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d sent his dreams to her across the bond– it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

Elain hadn’t set eyes on him in months. He’d been back around the start of fall, reporting to Rhys about some business, and their eyes had met in the hall. He’d afforded her a small smirk and sketched a bow before stepping from the dark hall into Rhys’s office, and that had been it. She hated how even the briefest of moments ignited the fire she dutifully ignored like a field of dried wheat meeting a spark. He’d been back in The Human Lands since, not even deigning to appear for Solstice this year. He’d sent her a gift, all the same, despite his absence. 

It was her favorite so far. She might have even told him so had he shown his face. Not unlike the small necklace Elain had ripped from her own neck the year before, this one sat on a delicate chain of silver. Instead of stained glass, the charm was a smooth pendant of clear resin, the most beautiful blue petals suspended eternally in bloom inside. Rather than put it with her gloves and pearls in the back of the closet, she wore it. Truthfully, she never took it off. She’d taken to rubbing a thumb over it in concentration or worry, the smooth material of it a balm when she needed one. 

What did it matter?

No one had seen him gift it to her because he hadn’t been present. He certainly wouldn’t see it, considering he never came around anymore. 

If she pretended hard enough, even she might believe it didn’t bother her.

She fastened the buttons on her dress, a pleasant emerald that mirrored the evergreens surrounding the city she’d finally come to refer to as home. She lifted the fine chain and dipped it back, allowing the charm to settle beneath it and between her breasts before she turned to leave the room. 

Nyx’s giggle filtered up to her as she descended the massive staircase into the house proper, her heart flitting at the sound. Her nephew and his parents sat at the table in the family dining room, and Elain didn’t hesitate to offer to take over the feeding of the most demanding and messy member of the household. At least, as long as Cassian wasn’t visiting. 

“Hello, my sweet boy. How’s my favorite nephew doing this morning?” Elain cooed as she walked around the long table to sit beside him. In response, Nyx slammed his hands into a plate of eggs as he squealed excitedly. Feyre just pinched the bridge of her nose as Rhys looked on with a glint of amusement in his eyes. 

“I’ve got him, eat your breakfast.” Elain scooped some eggs onto a spoon, twirling it through the air until Nyx was entranced enough to open widely and politely. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Elain, truly. Are you certain we can’t simply put you on the salary to train his manners?” Feyre sighed, finally taking a bite of her own breakfast. 

“He gets his manners from his mother,” Rhys quipped, then dodged a croissant as he filled his own plate. 

Elain helped Nyx eat with one hand as she brewed a strong tea with the other, letting the bold scent wash over her senses. She’d need a cup or two with the sleep she’d gotten. The thoughts were shoved abruptly away before she let them stray too far in the presence of the two daemati she lived with. 

Once he was done, she hoisted him into her lap, knocking the errant pieces of runaway egg off him and onto the table. His onyx curls were soft as down, and she absently ran her fingers through them while he relaxed against her chest, carefully sipping her tea with the other hand. 

“–and I’m not certain we could get a location on it narrowed that specifically without being close when it happened.” 

“What’s that?” Elain questioned, finally coming into the conversation. 

“The power flares. Another happened yesterday. Near the border of Spring and Summer this time.”

She furrowed her brows. These strange flares had begun a few months ago, rising in regularity since. They hadn’t been able to find any identifiable patterns, nor predict with any sort of accuracy where the next might strike. Nyx sighed against her neck, little cheeks puffing as he started to fade into sleep. 

“And no new information?” Elain asked. Rhys shook his head. Though they still hesitated to allow Elain too much involvement, her visions had proven to be helpful enough that, at the very least, she was no longer discounted entirely from the conversations on these matters. She liked to know what was going on. Whether she could help or not was another matter entirely.

“Has the vision returned?” Feyre asked, clearing her plate and pouring more tea. 

“You know I’d tell you if it had.” The last had been a week prior, and she’d gotten out of bed to inform them immediately, allowing them to delve into the memory of it and see for themselves. 

A bloodied hand on the cracked, stone ground, a small cauldron that sent familiar shivers down her spine and gave her nightmares for days, a flare of light, and Lucien’s bright shock of red hair, whipping through the wind against dark thunderheads.

The vision had felt rocky, coarse, cold. Unwelcoming. Though she couldn’t make out any more details of it, and it hadn’t come back, it had felt ominous. A warning of something just out of her grasp. 

“Any more dreams?” Rhys asked, snagging more fruit and spearing a piece onto his fork. Elain nearly choked on her tea as an image flashed of dark golden shoulders and a broad expanse of scarred back settling between her thighs. 

“What?”

“Visions. Any more dreams or visions?”

“No. No more. Since last time.” She pushed down the image of copper hair laced through her fingers with near-violent force, checking her mental shields were holding tight. 

Rhys nodded, looking to Feyre. “We’ll need to send out missives. I imagine it’s time we have some sort of a meeting so we can, at minimum, put a reporting system into place. Try and see if any predictive theories can be found. If any magic can be tracked.” 

Elain reached beside her to grab the nearby pen, ready to roll it to Feyre when her body abruptly froze. She recognized the sensation for what it was, the rigid rippling from her toes to her scalp as the cold seized her.

“Elain?”

But she was already fading from awareness, sight going milky as the vision pulled her under, Rhys gently taking Nyx from her arms. 

Pink fabric beneath her cheek, a soothing touch on her back. 

Twice the vision

Yet not the right 

A deep laugh in her ear. Low and close and warm.

Heal the rift 

And stay the course 

A firebird across the sky. 

The darkness within us

Corrupt and descend

That soft, feminine voice she’d come to know so well, that she’d finally stopped approaching with fear. 

It's time to return to the manor, Elain. It’s time. 

Elain came back to herself abruptly, her hand clenched in the table cloth and a gasp of air filling her lungs harshly. Feyre and Rhys watched from beside her, Nyx still asleep peacefully in his father’s arms. 

Feyre was beside her in an instant, pouring cold water into a glass, the visions so commonplace now that they all knew what helped in the immediate aftermath. “What was it?”

Elain swallowed, the lump in her throat hard and solid. 

Undoubtedly, the firebird meant Vassa. The rest could have been anything. But Elain’s visions weren’t always easily understood–more often than not, they were these swimming images, words that meant nothing to her until the events passed, if they ever did. 

But that laugh, the low rumbling in her ear. She knew who it belonged to, even if her heart clenched to hear it. Still, there was no denying where the vision was trying to move her, the tug on her intuition something she’d learned to not ignore. 

“I need to go to The Human Lands. Back to the manor.” 

The shock on both their faces was almost comical. 

“What did you see?” She pushed the memory out to them, face burning as she realized the resounding laugh and her reaction to it would be sent, too. No one questioned her anymore about Lucien, or her bond, or her love life at all, really. Despite a lingering awkwardness between her and Azriel that a blind man himself could see, it was clear to everyone around that Elain had chosen to remain alone for the time being. 

They didn’t know how many times she’d awoken in Lucien’s empty apartment.

“Does the rhyme mean anything to you?” Rhys asked, but Elain shook her head. It seemed fragmented, just pieces of something larger. A poem or a song, perhaps. 

“Are you certain you want to go to The Human Lands, Elain? Won’t it be strange seeing Lucien there?”

It would be. As it always was. Her neutral indifference to him was a mask she’d perfected, despite her wants raging immediately beneath the surface. But when she considered not going to follow this vision, the very blood in her body seemed to rebel. 

“Perhaps, but something is pushing me there, and it isn’t going to help anyone if I don’t listen.” Elain had learned to heed the warnings her Sight gave her, even if she hadn’t exactly verbalized that it was occasionally the voice she’d heard in the depths of The Cauldron leading her to where she needed to be. 

Still, Elain was inclined to listen, even if being near Lucien might be difficult. She held firm in her resolve to restrain herself from giving in to the bond long ago, being close to him hadn’t changed that before. And maybe, with the two so close, the bond would settle a bit. Allow her to get some damned sleep.

“Will you feel safe there?” Rhys asked, concern settling in his eyes. 

At that, at least, Elain raised a brow. “Do you think I won’t be at my absolute safest with him there?” 

Rhys chuckled, but acquiesced with raised palms. “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

Elain continued. “I’ll be okay. It seems I need to go. If I'm gone, maybe you’ll have more time to look into the flares.”

She should have told them that this wasn’t the first vision she’d had urging her towards The Human Lands. Should have told them that this was actually just the most recent of many, and it was time she stopped ignoring them. 

Elain had gotten much better about keeping secrets.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not like I can’t get in touch.”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged a look, and Elain knew they were speaking mind to mind. “We do need someone to alert the remaining human kingdoms and Vassa about the power flares. We could consider you an emissary to Night, give you the courtly protections.” 

Elain fought rolling her eyes. Would her little sister ever stop treating her like a child? Like something breakable? “It’ll be fine, Feyre. Truly. We’re on good terms with Vassa and Jurian, are we not?”

Feyre chewed at her lip momentarily, finally seeming to make peace with it. “Alright. I’ll reach out. Only if you’re certain.”

She could do this. She could go, figure out what the purpose of her presence was, and still hold strong as she had been. He’d been to Night plenty, been in her house plenty. Another setting wasn’t going to suddenly bring her resolve to its knees. Plus, a change of scenery would do her well.

“I’m certain.”

Feyre put a hand on her shoulder as she passed. “It’ll be nice to visit. See if it feels any different now.” At that, Elain’s jaw tightened. It wasn’t something she’d yet considered, but she wasn’t changing her mind now. 

Feyre found her in the garden hours later, the sun having rallied valiantly from behind the heavy clouds and rain of morning. A response had come back almost immediately from Vassa formally inviting Elain to stay for as long as she’d like. Though Elain’s memories of Vassa were foggy at best, she remembered her being fine, fiery and bold, but raised in society as she and her sisters had been. There hadn’t been much time to catch up post-war, but she wondered what she’d be like in these different times. People were different after the wake of tragedy had distanced itself, gods knew she was.  

“I’m certain the promptness had nothing to do with a certain Vanserra,” Feyre said with the subtlety of a brick through a window. 

Elain’s stomach flipped.

She cleared her throat, returning her attention to the flowers. “Nothing at all.”

Chapter Text

The setting sun cast the snowy mountains surrounding Velaris in a pretty, pale orange while Elain sat in the window of her bedroom. Her items were packed tidily into a bag on the foot of her neatly made bed. She had decided not to take much, just a few necessities. Who knew how long she’d be there? Still, she didn’t want to impose. She could always come back and get more if she needed it. 

Physically, she’d prepared as well as she could, remembering what the weather this time of year was like there. Mentally, she couldn’t be less prepared. Vassa and Jurian– and Lucien, she guessed– lived in the Archeron’s rebuilt manor. It wasn’t a secret; they just didn’t speak of it often after it had been gifted to them in the war’s aftermath. There weren’t many solid memories of that year of her life, living in a suddenly sprawling estate and unable to wonder why. The magic of it had blurred lines, blurred memories, blurred many things. She recalled so little of that season, of Graysen, honestly. The magic had done strange things to the way she lived without her even noticing. The magic, but the trauma too.

And now, blessedly or perhaps not, it was a jumble of tangled thoughts she couldn’t quite make out the edges of. She didn’t like to think too much about it. Feyre had asked more than once how comfortable she would be living under the same roof as Jurian. It had taken Elain a moment to remember he’d been at Hybern, and had a hand in the capture of her and Nesta. It hadn’t felt that way–her focus at Hybern had been on other things, and her memories of Jurian all came from the war where he’d fought with them. But the war was another bit of her now eternally-stretching life which she remembered little of, avoided when she could.

But now, it was inevitable. There was a room waiting for her in the house that used to be her own. 

She let a breath fill her lungs and exhaled slowly. Lucien lived there, among her old hallways. What room did he stay in? What places did he favor? What sort of things did he do to fill his time there? Did he drink his tea in the same cozy armchair of the same bay windows at the eastern side? Had he eaten stew sitting on the same counter of the kitchen while the summer winds blew through open windows?

The creaking of the bedroom door brought her out of the trance as a head of bright blonde hair ducked into the fading twilight. 

“Elain!” Mor chirped happily. “You ready?”

She liked Mor immensely, a sunny, steady female who was always ready for a good time. The world could be falling around their heads, and Mor would suggest an apocalyptic themed day-drinking soiree. She’d been patient with her when she’d needed it, and she didn’t needle Elain the way her sisters did.

If anyone could make her feel better about what awaited her in The Human Lands, it was her. 

“Mor, hi. I’m all set.” She gestured to her bag. Embarrassingly, Elain still hadn’t perfected winnowing, despite ending up in Lucien’s apartment again at least six times since the previous Solstice. Luckily for her, he’d only been there the first, the time she’d been foolish enough to–

“Elain?” Mor’s tentative voice shook Elain from where she’d been standing, her eyes glazed while she remembered. She blushed. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Sorry. I haven’t been sleeping much.” Her shoulder rose and fell apologetically, and Mor gave her a reassuring smile. 

“Are you certain you want to go?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” She waved her hand dismissively. “The sleeping isn’t because of the trip.” Well, that was partially true. It wasn’t because of the trip directly . “I’ll be just fine.” 

Elain nodded while she said it, as though one more affirmation might make her believe it fully herself. 

Mor slung the lightweight bag over her shoulder and offered an arm out. Elain said her goodbyes to everyone at dinner–nothing dramatic. Though she wasn’t imagining a long trip, it was still the first time she’d truly been away from her sisters since, well, everything. A final look around her room left a strange feeling in her chest. There were so few knick knacks, so few pieces of her , even after years here. Her necessities could be easily packed into a duffel, all her treasured items either coming with her or tucked safely inside her closet where no one might happen upon them. The empty room flashed away as Elain blinked.

Winnowing didn’t take her by surprise as it once had, the slow and simultaneously rapid whipping of wind across her skin not making her feel sick and out of her mind with dizziness anymore. They touched down once, twice, three times, until finally, their footfalls fell muffled against a forest floor. She immediately knew the smells, knew the trees, knew the forest. Knew that if she turned, she’d find herself at the manor gates that she once believed would protect her.

Night had fallen as they traveled, the pale purples of twilight dwindling in the sky. It was easier to winnow at night, especially when human areas were involved. 

She steadied herself, taking a deep breath into her lungs. “Do you hate Lucien?” The words tumbled out before Elain was really sure of why she wanted to know so badly. Mor seemed a good judge of character, her ability with the truth naturally making her seem more trustworthy to Elain. She was clearly taken aback by the question, but not unsure of her answer.

“No, only his family.” Her gaze softened on Elain, a small flurry beginning to fill the air around them as they passed through the gates to the short drive. The house was massive, rebuilt to its former glory. Lights shone warmly from within, multiple stone chimneys puffing smoke into the night air. The bright lights from the now-fixed windows caught the glimmering flakes of snow, making the entire scene appear like a painting. The snow was crisp and fluffy as it fell, and even though it wouldn’t stick, Elain had always loved to watch it. Mor had stopped on the path as Elain took it in, and when she turned back to her, Mor gave her a grin full of mischief. 

“You could do much worse than Lucien, Elain.” She winked. “Have a great trip,” the blonde trilled, wagging her fingers and disappearing into the ether.  

The strap of the bag dug into her shoulder, making her wonder if even the small amount she’d brought was too much as she slogged it up to the front steps. Before she could raise her hand to knock, the door burst open to a flurry of loud shouting from within, causing Elain’s footing to falter as she stumbled back on slick steps. 

His wide eyes, one russet and one gold, met hers in the same instant, the flurries blustering around them as his smile froze on his face, his posture stiffening. 

“Elain–”

“Hi,” the word exhaled from her chest, the sounds not quite connecting as she’d hoped. He was dressed differently here, loose, human clothes hugging his frame in a way she’d not yet seen. He looked dashing , even with less adornments than she was used to seeing him wear in Velaris. But the greens and reds and tans of this human attire drew her eyes. It was jarring to see him, easily the most beautiful male she’d ever seen, dressed in the way she’d once imagined her future husband might years ago.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, confused but more surprised than anything else. 

Surprised.

Had he not known she was–

“Elain!” Lucien was roughly shoved to the side as a mop of bright red curls came barreling into the door frame. “Come in, come in! We’re so glad you’re– take her bag, you brute. Were you raised in a nobleman’s barn? --come in!”

Elain wasn’t certain her mouth wasn’t gaping, the chaos of the prior thirty second making her slow to respond to Vassa’s energy. Blessedly, her feet cooperated as she came through the doorway into the foyer. It was much different than she remembered, the chaos of the war having torn walls of stone to dust and the rebuilding turning them into something entirely new. She preferred it now, without the memories. 

She murmured a quiet thank you as Lucien took her bag, all the while Vassa tugged her deeper into the house. “I’m so glad you're here! I’ve been looking forward to it since the missive arrived!” Her auburn curls bounced wildly as she took Elain’s hand in hers and pulled her through halls that were strange but still familiar, Lucien somewhere far behind now. 

She slammed to a halt so abruptly that Elain nearly rammed straight into her back as she turned. “Speaking of being raised in barns. How rude of me! Would you like tea?”

“Uhm, no. No, thank you.” She’d barely gotten the words out before Vassa was charging forth again, her small frame bobbing and weaving around corners. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to chat! It’s my favorite room in the house. You’ll love it.”

How could so much energy fit into such a small woman?

At the final turn, Elain’s breath caught. Where she thought she remembered the entrance to an inner courtyard once being sat instead a small white doorway, sealed just off the kitchens. The glass was frosted, but even through that, Elain could feel the life inside. Though Vassa had stopped, Elain continued forward, nearly pressing against the walls of paned glass. 

“You put in a greenhouse?” The words were hushed, strangely reverent, and when she looked back over at Vassa, she could see the barely contained grin across her tanned, freckled face. 

“Lucien enchanted it for us during reconstruction. It’s so perfect, isn’t it? Stretches around half the inner courtyard so that even in the winter we’ve got plants.” She tugged on her hand again as she opened the door. “Come on, let me show you.”

The inside was somehow even more impressive, the vaulted ceilings of glass covered with inset faelights, the warm humidity a caress against her skin. Floor to ceiling, every free space was filled with green–flowers, plants, shrubs, vegetables and fruits. It truly did reach across the courtyard, the end not even visible from where they’d entered because of the gentle curve of the walls.

“Lucien did this?”

Vassa grinned back at her. “He did. He’s lovely.” At that, Elain was shaken from her stupor. Something about the way Vassa had said the words grated against Elain, her back bristling as Vassa walked on. 

He’s lovely .

As though on a sigh. 

But Vassa was still winding through the paths, her hand entwined with Elain’s like they were old friends. “Here we are!”

They’d come to the end of the greenhouse, a smattering of fully-bloomed cherry trees surrounding two stone benches. Behind them, the paneled glass looked out over the glowing courtyard. Even though night had fallen, the courtyard glowed brightly. 

“It’s enchanted, too?” Elain asked as she sat next to Vassa, the fat snowflakes coming down from above melted before they hit the ground.

“Yes, another enchantment. We spend so much time out there at night, so it ought to be warm and well lit. Sometimes we train, sometimes we just sit. We have to do everything after dark, anyway because…well, I’m certain you know.”

At that, Elain’s eyes tracked back to Vassa’s cerulean ones, suddenly unsure. Of course Elain knew of the curse, she should have assumed their schedules would work differently. 

“Of course, what a lovely courtyard.”

“It is. The three of us spend a lot of time out there. I set up chairs especially to watch them train.” Vassa lifted her eyebrows and mimicked fanning herself as she said it. The prickling under Elain’s skin grew to a raging inferno before she could stop it. 

It must have shown in her face, because Vassa’s eyes glittered . “Sorry to be so scandalous.” She lowered her voice as she said the word. “It’s just, when you live around the two of them, it’s hard not to look. You know?” 

“Jurian and…Lucien?” The words left Elain a little more aggressively than she’d intended them to, but Vassa only greeted her with another wicked smile, settling a hand on hers.

“Yes, you’ve seen them. Plus, the winter nights here are long. We’ve got to find ways to entertain ourselves–”

Vassa was still talking, but the sudden understanding that she may have stumbled into some throuple involving her mate was stealing all her sense. 

He isn’t yours. You wouldn’t claim him.

Talking herself down was doing nothing, and Vassa was still talking beside her, an endless stream of words. Elain’s vision began to turn red at the edges. 

“–of course invited him into our bed more than once. Who wouldn’t with an ass–”

The snarl was out of Elain’s mouth before she could stop it, teeth bared entirely before her small fingers could come up and press to her lips with a surprised squeak. Vassa’s eyes were wide before her, bright as a midsummer sky.

“I’m–I’m so sorry,” Elain gasped and stumbled. “I’ve never–That’s never– ” But Vassa was suddenly cackling, the breath wheezing out of her in great gasps as she gripped Elain’s hand. 

“Oh, thank the gods. I was starting to wonder how long I’d need to pretend.” 

Pretend?

Elain was so confused, the entire time she’d been here so far giving her the most violent whiplash she’d ever experienced. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

Vassa righted herself, wiping her eyes. “I had to make sure. See, Lucien is very important to me–” To her mortification, that growl rose in Elain again and she bit it back with her teeth. “Easy girl, I don’t want your mate. Lucien is like a brother to me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about his heart.” 

Elain blinked. A test. It had been a test. 

“You goaded me.”

Vassa’s smile didn’t falter. “I did. And I’d do it again. I am happy to invite you here, and truthfully, I am very excited to have a friend. But Lucien is my family. I needed to see where you fell.” She shrugged as though she was speaking of the weather. 

“You and Jurian and Lucien aren’t…” The words failed her. 

“Absolutely not. Well, Jurian and I are. Lucien would never. He’s as loyal as they come.”

Vassa must have sensed the confusion in Elain. “Lucien hasn’t been with anyone else since he met you, Elain.”

It felt like swallowing knives. The relief, the sadness, the longing, the pain. The vision of her crying in a jacket that smelled of mountain pine. 

He hadn’t been with anyone else. 

“Full disclosure, we did try.” Vassa laughed again. 

“You’re crass,” Elain huffed out, but the words exited more lightly than accusatory and Vassa’s laugh deepened. 

“I am. I’m sorry. I live with idiots and then can only squawk by day. My manners have taken quite the hit, I’m afraid.” Elain did allow herself to laugh at that. 

Strangely, she found she wasn’t upset by it. Embarrassed, more than anything. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Elain. It will be nice to have a female friend.” She took her hand in earnest this time, and Elain saw something in her eyes that so vividly mirrored her own. Loneliness, longing, a want for connection. “I won’t say anything to Lucien. You deserve to do what you will with your own lives. But please consider, if you feel so strongly about him, not stringing him along if you intend to give him a chance. He cares for you. He wants to know you.”

Elain’s heart crushed at the words. 

But before she could respond, Vassa spoke again. “We don’t have to discuss it. Just please do me a favor and keep his heart in mind.” Elain understood where Vassa’s loyalties lay– she couldn’t blame her for that. 

“I will. I do.” And when she looked back, Vassa’s face had softened with understanding. 

“I understand. You’ve been through so much in such a short period of time. It’s hard to reconcile what was with what is now. How things might have been with how they are.” Vassa was right. It was a perpetual back and forth of what ifs for her. Of forcefully thrusting herself forward into this new life while memories and fears and useless, painful visions that may never come to pass ripped her backwards. 

“The last two years have been– ” She paused, taking a deep breath. She couldn’t talk to Nesta and Feyre about this. They’d moved on. Happy with their lives, happy with their choices. Even though she’d gotten through the worst of it, Elain still felt like she was in the dark waters of The Cauldron sometimes, swimming towards a surface she couldn’t see. “They’ve been awful. Everyone moved on, and I feel like I never will.”

She heaved in a breath. “I’m just so angry. I’m angry all the time. Everyone expects me to be kind, to help, to be silent and love flowers and baking confectionery like I used to. And that’s part of me, but I also don’t feel like that person anymore. My sisters and their mates just have this expectation set for me, and I let it go on so long, I can’t escape.” 

She had no idea why she was sharing, no idea why Vassa, a stranger for all intents and purposes, was getting her honest, ugly truth. 

“My sisters have moved on, and I should, too. I’m better now. But what if I’m never fully healed?”

Vassa moved so that she cupped both of Elain’s hands in hers. She didn’t waver, didn’t look away. “I may be mortal, but I understand how it feels to go through a change you didn’t want. You get so used to torturing yourself, martyring yourself, that you can get lost in it and forget to live.”

It suddenly occurred again to Elain exactly why Vassa understood so well, and embarrassment flooded her features. “Gods, Vassa. I’m so sorry. I know your circumstances are much worse. I shouldn’t be bringing any complaints to you.”

“Nonsense.” Vassa held up her hand, shaking her curls. “This is what friends are for, Elain. I’ve been dying for someone to talk to about this sort of thing.”

Friends.

They were friends.

One friend, who didn’t belong to her sisters. 

“Please don’t worry about me, Elain. People are searching for answers, and I don’t have to be at the lake while I fly, and I get to spend my nights with a man who loves me with every bit of himself despite the things his life has put him through. Don’t feel sorry for me. I am still lucky beyond measure.”

Elain squeezed her hands, this unexpected ally, this friend . Perhaps this was part of what she was sent for. Perhaps the universe knew how sorely she needed this.

I am still lucky beyond measure .

The words struck something in Elain. 

“If you ever want to talk, I know a lovely place between some cherry trees where we can,” Elain offered. Vassa’s eyes twinkled under the faelights as she tilted her head back and laughed. 

“You’ll fit right in here, Elain. Want me to show you to your room?” Now that Vassa mentioned it, she was tired. “We’ll be up all night, but you may want to ease into the new schedule. It’s a bit strange at first. They stood and made their way back through the greenhouse and halls, the manor smelling like spices and fireplaces and a home it had never smelled like before. 

“For the record, I didn’t tell him you were coming. I didn’t want him having an upper hand either.”

For some reason, the information made Elain laugh, the visual of him looking as surprised as a child on Solstice morning when he’d opened the door. It was unusual to see him even slightly undone, and she’d found it did help her feel like she was finally on even footing. 

“I gathered,” she responded with amusement, the image still echoing in her mind, the loose strand of hair falling across his forehead.

Vassa cleared the top of the stairs onto the landing, turning right and down a pretty hallway. This had all changed from before, too, beautiful wood panelling stained in a pretty light brown covering the walls instead of stuffy, floral wallpaper. 

“We’re in the east wing, but we have you staying over here in the west.” Elain didn’t ponder as to why, but was a little disappointed she’d be so far from everyone else. Perhaps it was for the best. They arrived at the end of the hall, two doors sitting across from each other with a large window and sitting area to separate the two. “You have your own bathing room inside, and Lucien is right across the hall if you need anything.” With that, she turned and winked, then proceeded into the room that was to be Elain’s.

Lucien was in the room right across from her. He was not included in the east wing. He was sleeping within feet of her, close enough to–

“You know, Elain,” her attention snapped back to Vassa. “You aren’t in the Night Court anymore. Those expectations from your family can stay there, and you can be whoever you want here.” She set some towels from the closet onto the bed next to Elain’s duffel. “If you’re brave enough.”

Vassa flitted from the room like a little bird, her smile not faltering once. “We’re glad you’re here, Elain. All of us.” 

The door shut behind her with a quiet click as Elain took in the lovely room. 

She was glad to be here, too.

Chapter Text

Sensations bled together, the heat and pressure swirling until Elain couldn’t make heads or tails of where she ended and he began. The touch of his fingertips alternately whispered across her skin and gripped hard enough to bruise, his growl in her ear and her responding whimpers of pleasure loud in the otherwise quiet darkness of the room.

For the first time, Elain understood she was in Lucien’s dream before it ended, understood that this wasn’t actually happening.

The touches were less sharp, less concrete than usual, but the pleasure with an iron fist around her spine was all-consuming. She’d never felt the sensations themselves so wholly, as though they’d crawled within her ribs and settled like a cat stretching in the sun. 

His hands on her body, her mouth on his neck, his hands in her hair. She relished in it, each touch of his absorbed into her very skin, becoming a part of her down to the dregs of her soul. His scent surrounded her, embraced her–  held her like a lover, like a soulmate, like a friend.

“You’re here,” she whispered. An observation, a prayer of thanks. Here, in his dreams, she could tell him whatever she wanted. She could risk everything. It wasn’t real. The thought was as much of a relief as it was a disappointment.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” he answered, his plush lips against her collarbone, closing delicately but desperately against her skin, over and over until she felt like she might melt into oblivion. 

She felt wild, bold, untethered, and when she reached between them in the darkness, she felt how hard he was against her hand, pressing his forehead to hers and exhaling roughly at the pressure of her touch. 

“Elain…” Her name on his lips was a thing of beauty, a welcome at the gates of heaven as she closed her eyes. 

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you,” she whispered, her own lips pressing softly to the broad expanse of his neck, wandering towards his jaw. There were no visions here, no pain, no tears. Just the two of them, their pleasure twining them together.

“Then take me, Elain. I’m yours.” The words unleashed something in her, something ancient, claiming. 

Mine.

He reared back as though he’d heard her think it, bearing his sharp teeth in a show of possession as though the same thoughts rushed through his own mind. 

Her lips parted as she drew back, every part of him overwhelming her senses entirely. He was here. He was hers. 

At least for now. 

The inhale of cold air stunned her into full consciousness, no buffer to the shock of waking in an unfamiliar room. She knew where she was, knew she’d been dreaming of the male just one room away now. Her breaths rattled in her chest as though each fought to get out, and her sense warred with her want, her feet desperate to shuffle across the hall and finish what they’d started in the dream. 

She sometimes wished Lucien slept more soundly–the endings to the dreams were always so abrupt and jarring. 

What are you thinking?

Common sense hit her like a stone. She knew she shouldn’t entertain the thoughts, knew how dangerous it was to give in, even only in her mind. She had held strong for two years, even when it nearly killed her to do so. He was not the reason she’d come here, and she needed to remember that. But his hands on her body, his bond in her chest…

A sharp flash of pain hit her as she saw her prone form crying on a bed, that familiar embroidered green jacket curled around her shoulders. She sat up and pulled her suitcase from the floor, rifling down to the false bottom to make sure it was still there. She’d left most things at home, but she would not have traveled without this. She patted it down in the moonlight pouring in from the window, making sure the creases stayed folded tightly, then returned the bag to its normal state, her anxiety temporarily quelled and her motivation fresh. 

You will not give in to your urges, not even in your dreams.

The room was dark, but light shone from beyond the door. She could smell coffee and food from beyond, and though it was a while yet from daybreak, Vassa had warned her that their schedules were strange. Elain supposed now was as good a time as any to begin her day. Pulling on a simple dark red dress and lacing it up, she made the decision that she should clear the air with Lucien today. She didn’t need any additional tension between them past what the bond already insisted upon. 

The door made no sound as she opened it to the hall, illuminated by only the sconces along the crown moulding. She paused to see the door across from hers open to the room, a light scuffling sounding from within. She smelled him even in the hall, those well-known scents, but something else, too. Something earthier, a tinge of cloves. 

A flash of something rushed through her. Had someone been in Lucien’s room with him? Had the dream he sent been a replaying of events that he’d partaken in with some…some other woman?

Elain was stepping forward before she thought better of it, her hand pressing the cracked door open further. It creaked almost imperceptibly with the motion, but even in the low light, she could see Lucien’s head flick up, his gaze meeting hers. 

Here in the soft nighttime glow of his room, she could discern that there were no scents in here but his. She could still smell the hint of cloves, something else deep like currant and black pepper at the edges of her perception, but her heart calmed. He was here alone, his eyes settled on her. 

She’d caught him sat on his bed, tugging on his boots, his hair pulled back low into a loose leather tie, pieces of shining copper framing his beautiful face. She traced his scars with her eyes where she could not trace them with her fingers, all the way up to where they intersected with his golden eye and brow. He allowed it, not speaking as she took him in, though a sense of something that looked like insecurity flashed through his russet eye before it was gone. Elain couldn’t be certain, but she thought she might have felt it echo in her chest. 

“I wanted to apologize.” She found her voice in the soft dark, focusing on the swaths of moonlight across his unmade bed instead of him. “Vassa didn’t tell you I was coming. I shouldn’t have surprised you that way.”

He paused, as though hesitating, then stood. There was just enough light to see his nostrils as they flared, his eye flashing and darkening as he looked down at her. 

The dream. Elain hadn’t bathed. 

And the new scents she’d detected on him suddenly registered with her. 

The flush rose violently in her cheeks. She could feel it to the arched tips of her ears, the bridge of her nose, down her neck. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Elain. I know how Vassa is.” He was steps away from her now, here in the quiet. He walked forward into a moon beam, the ethereal light of it painting the beautiful angles of his face so elegantly that she nearly sighed. 

“You haven’t come by. I thought you didn’t want to see me, and I–” She wasn’t sure. 

Why had she said that? 

A strange expression passed over his face, the slightest furrow of his brows before they smoothed out again. 

“I just don’t want this to be uncomfortable.” She said the words, still so close to the door, the temptation to run strong. The temptation to stay stronger. 

He stepped closer, then once more, his long legs taking him directly in front of her. His chest was close enough to brush hers, her head tilting back to meet his eyes. She could taste his breath, could feel the beating of his heart under his skin. He moved closer still, his eyes never leaving her face. When he leaned in, his hand reaching toward the wall over her head, it pulled them closer, closer. 

When he spoke, his voice was low. “I’m not uncomfortable at all, Elain.” 

She shouldn’t. She couldn’t . But her eyes were fluttering closed, the beating of his heart matching the quick pattering of hers, the tugging in her chest urging her to taste , just once. “Are you?” he asked.

“No.” Her whisper was out nearly before he’d finished asking, fluttering like a bird on a breeze. 

“Good.” Then he was pulling back, the rush of cold around her feeling bone deep as the jangling above her head made her open her eyes. 

Keys. He’d grabbed a small set of keys from a shelf above her head. 

The breath whooshed from her lungs as he reached up again, grabbing a small dagger and sheathing it at his thigh. A wicked smirk spread slowly across beautiful lips, amusement and mischief glinting through the russet of his eye, and Elain was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to shove him into something. 

She narrowed her eyes, and his brightened, his smile widening into something like delight. 

“This is more than you’ve interacted with me in years. I feel just fine.” He winked, and Elain gaped while he walked around her to the hall. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast.” She stood stock still for a moment. He’d toyed with her. He’d smelled her arousal, been aware they were sharing his dreams, and he’d run with it. 

Part of her wanted to be mortified, furious, something . 

But her skin was still buzzing, ears still ringing with the rushing of blood. 

She’d been so close to casting caution to the wind. She’d have let him kiss her, just then. She’d been ready to. She couldn’t seem to keep sense around this male, and whatever confidence he found here that she’d never seen in him before was certainly not helping. She had heard Feyre tell stories of her time before Amarantha, before Elain and Nesta had been taken, when she’d stayed in Spring. Elain had always had a hard time reconciling the Lucien she heard of in the stories with the one she knew. This seemed more like Feyre’s version of him.

“Will you join me, or would you prefer to stay in my bed today?” He flashed that wicked grin again as she sputtered. 

“I–” Who was he here? What had changed?

“Ladies first,” he gestured forward as she slipped into the hall, willing her blush to resolve as he shut the door quietly behind them. 

The kitchen was warm and cozy, a small table built directly into the walls of the room already held Jurian and Vassa, the two chatting while sitting close, noses almost touching as they spoke. Elain almost felt compelled to look away, the moment seeming so intimate that she felt like an intruder to behold it. But they’d already heard them, splitting apart to greet them as they entered. 

“Welcome home, Elain. Though I’m sure it looks a bit different now,” Jurian smiled wryly at her as Vassa whacked his chest with the back of her hand. 

“Oh, thank you. It is so different now, hardly the same house. But if we’re being quite honest, I don’t remember much of that time. Good news for you, I suppose.” Jurian snorted into his teacup so hard that the liquid sloshed into his nose, making him cough as Vassa roared with laughter. 

“See? I told you she was going to fit right in,” Vassa nudged Jurian again, who was still wiping at his face. She wasn’t sure if it was the hot tea or embarrassment, but she didn’t miss the redness in his cheeks. Nor the stifled laugh that had come from Lucien behind her. 

“Come sit with us! Let’s chat.” The two moved over the bench to one side of the table, leaving the other half wide open. Lucien surprised her by coming up beside her as she sat, giving her a plate of food and a cup of tea that looked suspiciously exactly how she normally took it. 

“Thank you,” she said as he took the seat next to her with his own plate. 

Jurian, having finally recovered from his coughing fit, pointed to the plate in front of Elain. “Is that maybe not a smart idea?” 

She paused. What about her eating was a bad idea? 

“It doesn’t work like that, idiot.” Lucien shot out amusedly. “First of all, she has to offer it to me , and second, there has to be intent behind it.” 

Oh. Oh.

Elain hadn’t even considered the food aspect of living with Lucien. 

Vassa leaned against Jurian’s shoulder. “You’ve been living amongst fae for centuries. Shouldn’t you know this sort of thing, dear?” 

Jurian huffed, but pressed a kiss to her curls. “Apologies. My position as a sentient eye wasn’t exactly ideal for taking notes on mating bonds.”

Lucien pointed a piece of bacon at Jurian with a lifted brow, feigning seriousness. “Should have put your consciousness in the finger bone, instead.” 

The group all laughed as Elain sat in surprised but amused wonder. The three of them interacted the way that her family did, hardly any topics off limits. It didn’t take much to see the level of comfort between them, the easy camaraderie that flowed. These people were friends, family. Her heart ached a bit to think that she didn’t act like this with her own blood. 

Luckily, Vassa came in with a distraction. “So, tell us about the flares. Your sister was very vague in her note.” 

Elain finished chewing, dabbing at her mouth with the napkin. “Have you felt any strange magic here? Over the past half-year, especially.” 

The three of them let their eyes meet over the table. Jurian, however, was the one who spoke. “We’ve felt some odd magic here, one just a few days ago.” Elain nodded; the timelines matched up. “It’s not much but power flickers for the things that run on magic here.”

“I felt it.” Lucien’s voice next to her sounded off. “I wasn’t sure what it was, but I felt it. Like a drain on my own magic, but very quickly.” That was new. She wasn’t sure if Feyre or Rhysand had experienced feeling a drain on their own magic when it happened. “It was gone almost as soon as it started.”

“Was that the first time?”

He furrowed his brows as though he was thinking, then his eyes darkened as though things were connecting. “It was the strongest, but no, it wasn’t the first time. I didn’t put together that they might be connected.” 

“I assume they’re stronger in Prythian?” Vassa asked, reading between the lines of Elain’s reactions. 

“Yes, they’re sucking the land dry where they occur. It’s like they’re taking the magic right out of the earth. This is only the most recent, but it was the closest to here, so we felt the need to reach out.”

“What are the High Lords doing about the flares?” Jurian interjected. 

“Planning a summit. They’re sending missives out this week to organize with the other courts and any representatives from The Human Lands. We’re hoping to find a way to track them, predict them, perhaps.”

The table was quiet, Vassa nodding as though in thought.

“Why did they send you? Certainly a letter would have sufficed– ow .” Jurian shifted like he’d been kicked beneath the table.

“I had a vision, and we’d been waiting for more information. But then I had another, and it seemed to be pushing me here.” 

She felt Lucien move beside her, as though shifting forward. “Are you able to control your visions now?” 

She looked at him and found his face full of interest, his body turned entirely towards her in the seat. “Oh, no. Not yet. They’re easier to deal with now, and they come more frequently. But I can’t summon them at will.”

Vassa spoke again to her side. “Did it tell you what you needed to do here? Give you any clues?”

Elain willed her body not to blush at the variety of dreams and visions she’d had lately, the images shifting quickly through her mind. “No, just that it was time to return to the manor, to here.” Jurian had gotten up to clear their plates, the sink running as Vassa slid out and returned the kettle to the stove around the corner.

“Well, there’s plenty of room, and it was your house first. Stay as long as you like,” Jurian offered. 

Vassa popped her head back out from around the corner. “Stay forever!” Elain laughed into her tea while Jurian looked at Lucien and shook his head. 

“She thinks we’re bad company,” Jurian offered, Vassa sticking her tongue out at him. 

“Speak for yourself.” Lucien leaned back in his chair and crossed an ankle over his knee. The motion drew Elain’s attention to his legs, strong yet elegant.

The sun was beginning to rise, the night outside paling to a periwinkle. Jurian crossed the room and Vassa followed, slipping her hand into his and looking back before they left. “Elain, help yourself to anything you’d like. Jurian and Lucien can tell you where everything is, and do consider you have free reign of the greenhouse, too. It’s in desperate need of creative vision.” She smiled and waved as the two exited the small kitchen. 

Elain heard their voices as they went through the hall and then watched through the windows from the table as they entered the courtyard beneath the faelights. They embraced, their arms twining around each other while they smiled and talked and kissed. Elain found she couldn’t look away, the affection so apparent between the two that it made her chest throb. Finally, as the sky turned from a light purple to a deep orange, Vassa stepped back, flames engulfing her brightly as she changed and took off into the sky. Jurian’s hand was still raised as though in a parting wave as she took off above the trees, as though he could still reach out and catch her if only he tried. 

Then, like a boat where the wind had dropped from the sails, Jurian turned and walked back into the manor. 

“It’s hard to watch them go through it every morning.” 

Elain nearly jumped out of her skin, so focused on the scene before her she’d forgotten that Lucien sat at her side. 

“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for them.” That strange look passed over Lucien’s face again momentarily before he shifted to raise a brow at her.

“It could always be worse. We’re all lucky Koschei hasn’t called her back to the lake.”

Lucien stood and took their empty plates to the sink as Elain walked closer to the window. Vassa was long gone, but Elain could almost still see the sparks in the sky where she’d been. With the sky lightening now, the full courtyard was on display as the light of day spilled across it. She could tell by the setup it held a place for them to train, the walls of the manor surrounding it to keep them from any prying eyes. She wondered how they trained, if they did it at night while Vassa was human. 

The clanking of dishes behind her began to fade, the icy chill of the glass seeping from the pane and into her veins. 

She understood too late, too far gone to get back to the table. 

“Lucien.” She let the name fall from her lips as a warning, but she was already falling beneath, the cold taking her under again before she could stop it. 

Hands on her waist, calloused and warm and broad. She was staring out at the same courtyard, but it was different now. The light had changed, but so had the people. She was there, arms out as Lucien tilted her hips slightly as though positioning her. He lightly hooked his fingers around her wrist, pulling it back and shifting her body with his.

She could feel the tingle where his hands touched, his breath behind her ear.

Heart of gold 

Heir of light 

Soul of fire 

Cauldron’s delight 

The voice danced around her as she sent her body weight forward, throwing a punch the way she’d seen her sisters do. She was training .

And then, she was waking, her face pressed to a pink couch and a hand on her back.

“Elain?”

She blinked hard, coming back into herself as she sat quickly up. 

“Hey, whoa, whoa. Slow down.” The hand on her back moved with her to lean her against the arm of the couch. “Are you okay?”

She put the back of her hand to her forehead, shoving the errant curls that had fallen back to find Lucien crouched in front of her, eye level and staring at her. 

“Just a vision. I’m alright.” The feeling was coming back into her tingling limbs, and she clenched and unclenched her fists while he stared. 

“Is it always like that?”

She nodded. “Usually I can get myself sitting or somewhere safe beforehand, but that one came on fast. I’m sorry.”

“You have to stop apologizing for things.” His smirk was back, along with some color in his face. She’d made him nervous.

“Are you alright here while I get you some tea?”

“Yeah. Tea would be nice, thank you.” She wet her lips as she looked around, the door to the kitchen still swinging behind him. Had he carried her out here? The thought made her stomach flutter. 

She lay her head back against the arm of the couch, letting the swaying and swimming sensations that came with her visions ebb and flow from her mind and limbs. 

Training . 

Of course, it had been flippantly offered to her while her sisters did it, but with no real interest behind it. No one in her family expected her to have any real desire to do it, or to train her magic for that matter. And she’d been too embarrassed to ask herself. After those first few months, everyone just assumed Elain was happy with her household hobbies. And to a degree, they were right. She had wanted to hide; she did enjoy household hobbies. She wasn’t a warrior like Nesta and Feyre. She didn’t want to lead armies or head a battalion at war. But to defend herself? That was important to her. She didn’t want to simply be protected by those around her for the rest of her long, immortal life. She wanted to know how to protect herself, how to use the body that had been given to her.

She heard Lucien clacking around in the kitchen. He’d clearly been startled by seeing her black out. She supposed it made sense, considering he hadn’t witnessed it before. But it touched her that he was worried, even that he was fussing over her. She always knew he’d be attentive and kind where she was concerned, but seeing it in action further shook her resolve.

She knew he’d be so good to her…for a time, at least.

He came back through the kitchen door, opening it with his foot fluidly as though he did it often. He set the tea on the table beside her, and Elain noticed again that it was just the way she took it. He’d been paying attention to her, far more closely than she’d imagined. Or otherwise he was a stupidly good guess. She’d have never thought it, his greetings in the Night Court had been awkward at first, tentative. They’d eventually grown to fleeting smirks, distant bows, but never so overt that she’d have guessed he knew how many sugars and how much milk she took in her tea. 

Still, he was clearly different here. She thought of how bold he’d been with her this morning, just an hour ago. Perhaps this was a chance for her to be bold, too. With no weight on her shoulders, no watchful eyes from her sisters or their spouses. Who could she be without those expectations?

“Lucien?”

His eyes were already on her, but they focused as his name left her lips. “Yes?”

“Could you train me?” She relished the fact that she’d shocked him. 

“Train you?” He asked, and she nodded. “In self defense or magic?” 

She’d imagined defense only–she hadn’t even considered that Lucien might be able to help her with the lesser magics that she’d so sorely neglected the last two years. 

“Both?”

His eyes glittered as the side of his lips quirked up. “I can do that. What magic can you wield?”

Shame flooded her veins at the question. “Besides the visions?” She tucked hair behind her ear, the curl popping right back out despite her insistence. “Nothing else.”

“Has no one shown you anything in the Night Court?” The bite in his words was poorly disguised.

“It’s not like that. I didn’t ask.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” Clearly, the fact had angered him. She wondered now more than ever how friendly he truly was with her family in Night, how much of his visiting was out of obligation to her . The thought burnt through her like acid.

“They wanted to give me the space I asked for. I’m not like Nesta and Feyre–I have no interest in fighting. But I would like to know how to defend myself should I need to.”

He seemed to understand, to back off, shuddering imperceptibly as though he was shaking tension from his shoulders. 

“What sort of magic can you teach me?”

He shrugged. “Some of the basics are easy enough. Can you winnow?” She froze at that, the memories of his apartment flashing through her mind. The times she’d ended up there had never been intentional, and she’d never managed it outside of them, no matter how she’d tried. 

“No.” She sipped her tea. It was perfect.

“Then we can start there. My magic is primarily fire, but I can teach you some of the things most high fae learn when we’re starting out.”

“I’d like that.” When she met his eyes, they were flickering again, and she thought how apt the fire seemed for him. “What sort of things can you do with fire?”

That spark in his eyes seemed to darken with mischief, as though he had a thought he wanted to share but had refrained from it. Instead, he spoke through a grin. “There are many things I can do with fire magic.” 

The breath caught in her throat at the suggestion in his tone, his words. She wasn’t sure what came over her as she sat up. “Well,” she said coyly, “you’ll be a great help in winter. I get very cold hands.” 

He met her pace, not missing a beat. “I would happily warm your…hands–” he paused, intentional in his hesitation as he lifted a brow at her. “–any time, my lady.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, my lord.” She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, what she was thinking past how good it felt to be spoken to this way, to not be treated like some sort of fragile glass structure. 

She found her smile mirrored his own. “You’re different here.”

“How so?” The amusement was evident on his face. 

“Bolder.” She looked him dead in the eyes as she said it.

“It’s easier to be myself among friends, those I’m comfortable with,” he said matter of factly, letting his fangs show this time as he smiled at her across the couch. 

Was he including her in the people he was comfortable with?

“So tonight then?” he asked abruptly, pulling her away from her straying thoughts.

“Hm?”

“For training, would you like to start tonight?” 

“Oh, yes. That would be lovely, thank you. And thank you for agreeing to help.” She shifted from the couch, putting her feet back on the floor. She wanted to bathe and unpack, get settled and find her way around if she was planning to spend any real time here. 

His steady hand found her back as she leaned forward to stand, the warm presence of it more comforting than she’d imagined. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She’d been so distracted she’d nearly forgotten the vision entirely. 

“I’m sure. Thank you for helping, and for the tea.”

“Of course.” 

She straightened up, shifting forward to brush off her dress, and Lucien’s eyes fell to her chest. The movement was quick, almost unnoticeable until he did a double take. 

She was about to laugh at the predictability of males when she felt the chain tugging. When she’d leaned forward to stand, her necklace had fallen forward from her dress. But Lucien’s eyes weren’t on it anymore, they were focused directly on hers. A question in them, a pleading curiosity that seared through her like a fire consuming absolutely everything in its path. 

The silence between them was physical, so heavy she could tangibly feel it. 

He cleared his throat. “So, tonight then?” The words rasped out, the strangled nature of them letting her know exactly how affected he was by seeing the necklace he’d bought her dangling between her collarbones. 

“Tonight then,” Elain whispered back, then turned on her heel and hurried up to her room, leaving Lucien standing alone in the foyer.

Chapter Text

Elain stood at the top of the stairs a week later, the revelry below so loud that you’d have thought a whole party was roaring downstairs instead of just two mostly-humans and a fae male. The moon shone brightly through the massive windows that stretched from the foyer to the second story of the manor where the stairs lofted. It was a beautiful night, crystal clear, and the stars twinkled brightly over the trees. 

She’d noticed that earlier too when they’d trained–the onyx sky was crisp and sharp in a way that only the winter could produce, though the courtyard was, as always, warmed by magic. Over the past week, she’d come to love the courtyard, even though it turned out she wasn’t much for training yet. She’d been so nervous before she’d come down to meet Lucien the first time, nearly feigning sickness and backing out more than once. 

After her encounter with Lucien earlier in the day, she’d hid in her room until nightfall, busying herself with unpacking her clothes, hanging them in the closet, unfolding and folding them into the drawers. That hadn’t taken much time at all, so she re-sorted them and put them all up again. Once she’d made sure everything had a place, she took out a slip of enchanted parchment to send to Feyre.

Just checking in. All is well here! Looks very different than I remember. No new visions yet, but I will keep you updated. Send Nyx a big kiss from Aunt Lainey. 

She knew it would likely take her sister a while to respond, so she tucked the now-empty duffel beneath her bed and ran a bath. She took her time, mulling through the various oils and soaps and lotions lining the massive tub. She settled in the deep porcelain basin, the water coming all the way to her chin. In the years following their dramatic upheaval into fae life, Nesta refused to go near any water past a wash basin. Elain, however, had never felt the same. 

She’d loved a bath for as long as she could remember. And plus, the water of the Cauldron had been bone-chillingly cold. The baths she took were near-scalding–nothing like that frigid nightmare that had stolen her breath away, plucking the warmth from her very marrow. 

She wasted all the time that she could bobbing in the water until it cooled and her fingers pruned. The sun was still above the treeline, and she had hours yet to kill. The house around her was silent, but she didn’t dare to go back out alone. She wasn’t quite comfortable enough yet, and despite the fact that she had enjoyed Lucien’s company this morning, she wasn’t sure her body could handle being alone with him again so soon. 

A response had come in from Feyre, short but sweet, her adorable scrabble still improving despite years in Prythian. 

Glad you’re good! Give Lucien our hello–Vassa and Jurian, too!

Elain sighed and tucked the parchment into the drawer of her desk, then hauled herself back onto the comfortable bed. The sheets were the softest cream-colored cotton, still pulled down from this morning. As the glowing sun descended towards the treetops, it cast golden bands of light across the room. It really was beautiful here, she thought, sighing and closing her eyes. 

When she blinked them back open, she realized she must have fallen asleep. It was close to twilight now, the sky a deep purple as the last vestiges of sun dipped beneath the far horizon. Elain shot up. She wasn’t sure exactly when Vassa returned, but she felt certain it was close to sunset. Elain didn’t want to miss meeting Lucien to train either. She blustered out into the hall, tying her curls back into a braid as she went. Her nerves were fried at the abruptness of her waking, and her stomach flipped with anticipation of training with Lucien. 

Would they be alone? Would Vassa and Jurian join them?

Gods, Elain hadn’t done anything physical past gardening in years. She hoped she wasn’t about to embarrass herself so profoundly that she’d never be able to look them in the eyes again. 

As she sprinted down the hall, she nearly slammed into Vassa, hair bouncing and still smelling slightly of embers. 

“Vassa! Hi!” Elain was breathless as she slid to a stop, Vassa’s brows furrowing in concern. 

“Elain, are you alright? You look a little green around the edges.” Leave it to her to be blunt. 

But Elain had immediately spilled all her words in front of her new friend–how she’d asked Lucien to train her, how she was to meet him now for her session, but she was late because she’d fallen asleep. 

Not missing a beat, Vassa jumped in. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to join in, too! Come on.” She grabbed Elain’s arm and yanked her down the hall to the opposite wing, nearly dragging her behind as she trotted down the halls. 

“Oh, Vassa, you don’t have to–”

“Nonsense, this is the perfect excuse to get some exercise in this form. However, I need to change.” Elain looked at the dress Vassa wore, and then down at her own. Vassa noticed in her periphery and tutted. “I’ve got some for you, too. We can’t be training in skirts.”

Vassa pulled her through a set of massive wooden doors, the suite opening into a magnificently large room with huge stone windows and a bed so large she’d have thought it was two pushed together. It smelled of sex so potently that Elain was almost knocked back a step, despite her experiences living at the River House. 

She’d assumed Jurian and Vassa were rooming together, but if she’d needed confirmation, she had it.

“Truly, Vassa, you don’t have to come with me.” But Vassa was already rooting through a closet, tossing items of fabric over her shoulder at Elain who caught them mid-flight. 

“Hush, I want to!” Her head popped out of the closet as she stared at Elain. “I know pityingly little about how to protect myself. If I had, I have a list of royalty I’d have punched. Who knows? Maybe I wouldn’t even be half bird.”

Elain laughed despite herself. Vassa might be certifiably insane, but Elain could see that she was also fun and honest. Both things that elain desperately needed in her life.

“Plus, as fun as it is to watch those two idiots, it takes forever . They’d go on for days competing if I let them. But perhaps if I’m included, and Jurian has to move me around for training purposes, the training won’t last as long.” She winked at an already-flushing Elain, tossing a final garment at her. “Put these on,” she yelled, disappearing into the closet once again. 

Elain was still shuffling restlessly as the two walked out into the courtyard, her trousers riding up her butt in a way that felt foreign beyond belief. Vassa was a bit smaller than her in all regards, and these pants were tight – certainly more revealing by far than anything she’d ever be caught in in public. Lucien’s eyes found her the second she entered the space, heat searing her face as she felt him take in every inch of her exposed shape. 

His heart beat so loudly she could feel it in her veins. 

Perhaps pants were not so bad after all. 

“We’re here!” Vassa announced loudly to them as she swung into Jurian’s arms. The two weren’t shy about their affection, and if Vassa’s theory was correct, they might not be around long enough to train regardless. Elain had a feeling that Jurian’s regimen was about to take a hit. 

“Are you ready?” Lucien asked quietly, walking up to her side and swallowing visibly. Elain fought a smile and nodded. 

“Ready as I’m going to be.”

“What’s first, Captain?” Vassa asked, mock saluting from her position hanging off Jurian’s back like a baby bear off its mother. 

They began that first day starting with the bare minimum for strengthening their bodies so they actually could defend themselves. These were the sorts of things that Elain had seen her sisters and the Valkyries undertaking both at the House of Wind and the River House while they trained. Elain was embarrassed at how weak she was, shame crawling through her at her body’s inability to hold anything for more than a few moments even with fae structures in place. But Lucien was patient and kind with her, not letting her give up, but giving unobtrusive motivation to try, try again. 

By the end of the session, Elain was dripping sweat, uncaring that she was laying flat on her back and staring at the stars above. She was absolutely exhausted, but surprisingly, she felt good. Better than good. The weariness went bone deep, but so did the satisfaction. She’d done everything he’d thrown at them, even if she’d done it badly. 

It had been the same every night since then–a full week passing by in the blink of an eye. Jurian and Lucien trained with them as she and Vassa built their strength. They’d get them started on an exercise, then spar or do their own, the four of them finding peace in a rhythm. Vassa complained loudly the whole time, but Elain found, even when it was difficult, even through back-breaking soreness, she was enjoying herself. The second day, she’d been so exhausted and sore that she’d slept until near noon and could barely heft her body from the bed. But a strong tea and large lunch motivated her enough to get her through to that evening. Lucien’s encouragement didn’t hurt, either. 

The third day was somehow worse, her arms and legs feeling as unstable as a baby lamb’s while she tried to hold herself aloft for exercises. Still, despite the pain and the sweat and Vassa’s non stop groaning and grumbling, Elain finished each night both near-collapse and thrilled with herself. 

By the fourth day, she’d begun to not hurt so badly, and she was excelling quickly. However, she was still facing one incredibly difficult obstacle, which was Lucien training shirtless within range of her. She couldn’t help her wandering eyes, his form so intensely corded with muscle and covered with sweat that she wasn’t sure she was fully capable of holding her own form up in the aftermath. 

It didn’t help that Vassa had been right–she and Jurian almost never finished a lesson with them, choosing instead to dash off in a fit of giggles and leaving Elain alone with Lucien and a blush on her face. Lucien, to his credit, never put his hands on her, kept to a reasonable distance, left her with things to do, and– when she was confident– worked beside her in silence. He was the perfect gentleman, but between the training visuals and the dreams, Elain was struggling to focus on anything else. 

All that aside, the routine was working for her, her body feeling strong in a way she’d never experienced before. She was sleeping better, and though her dreams were still as regular as they’d been, they weren’t leaving her waking exhausted and desperate the way they were before. Having him so close was both a blessing and a curse.

Tonight, after training, she’d written to Feyre, giving another very vague but positive assurance that things were going well here and she was fine, then she’d taken a bath. Now, as she crept down the stairs into the loud chaos below, damp hair hanging over her shoulder as the voices filtered up loud and boisterous from below, she was about to take another step outside of her comfort zone. 

Every night after training, the Band of Exiles, as they called themselves, would stay up late into the night playing card games and drinking. Each night since she’d arrived, they’d invited Elain, Vassa pleading, Jurian taunting, and Lucien standing to the side as though he wanted very much to seem like it made no difference to him at all. 

Each night, she quietly and kindly pass on the offer, returning instead to her room to bathe and lie down or even read until sleep took her, but tonight, something had given her pause. She’d made up her mind before she could hesitate, finger-combing her hair and tying the curls back before slipping into a dress and leaving her room. 

Elain was hesitant–other than brief sips here and there, she’d never really drank before, and certainly not beer. But the way Vassa talked about it as they did their planks and pushups, trying to convince her to join them, sounded like so much fun. 

She walked through the foyer to the intimate living space with a roaring fire illuminating them all. 

“Elain!” Vassa shouted, tumbling off Jurian’s lap and running to her. “You’re here! Tell me you’re going to have some fun with us, finally, please !”

Elain lifted a brow. “Oh? Is that not what we’ve been doing in the courtyard? Fun?” She smirked as Vassa and Jurian laughed, a single lifted brow from Lucien and a glint in his eye making something that felt like approval wash over her. Vassa tugged her hand and led her back to the table near the fireplace where they sat, the warmth of it nice against her skin. 

Jurian handed a mug of beer to her from where he sat, and Vassa took her place back on his lap. Behind them, Lucien stood next to the hearth, his elbow leaned against the mantle. Her eyes, as usual, got caught on him, the glinting of the flames against his tawny skin, the sparkle of the firelight against his golden eye and his russet one. 

Gods, but he was attractive. 

Her mouth went dry at his beauty, every bit of him a piece of art her fingertips longed to memorize. 

She lifted the glass to her mouth and drank, fighting the urge to immediately sputter as she tasted it. Jurian cackled. 

“It grows on you.”

“Perhaps like a malignancy,” Vassa added, settling in on Jurian so abruptly he winced. “Do you play cards, Elain?”

“Oh, not particularly well.” 

A lie. She’d spent much of her childhood playing cards with the staff while her father was gone and Nesta busied herself making sure Feyre survived to adulthood. Still, she could already see the thrill on Jurian’s face at the thought of beating her badly at a card game he thought he could teach her. She couldn’t wait to see how that played out. 

But she felt Lucien’s stare on her, the heat of it simmering beneath her skin as he watched her. He didn’t buy it for a moment, and she knew it. When he slid into the fourth chair and Jurian dealt him a hand, too, Elain pretended to look enraptured as Jurian explained basic poker to her. She nodded appropriately, furrowing brows and planning how she might sweep the man so spectacularly that he questioned his own skills compared to her “beginner’s luck”.

Two hours later, and Elain was drunk . 

She’d bested Jurian and Vassa so many times that they'd insisted they make it a drinking game in order to slow her down. It had worked. Even with her fae body, Elain had drunk so much beer that her stomach felt sloshy when she moved and pretty bubbles interrupted her vision as she squinted to focus on the cards in front of her. 

She shifted a 9 out from the back of the pile, realizing she had a straight flush and grinning as she slumped over the table. Jurian’s face fell. 

“Oh, come on. Again, Elain?” 

She laughed loudly as she laid out the cards in front of her, Jurian sliding back in his seat so dramatically that Vassa wobbled on his lap, laughing. She’d long given up playing, choosing instead to watch. 

“A grifter, Archeron. You’re an absolute grifter.” 

She fanned herself and laughed. “I can’t imagine what you mean.” 

“Beginner, my ass,” he grumbled, shuffling until Vassa got up and walked to the shelves of the room. “Fold.” Jurian tossed his cards down and got up to follow her, leaving Elain and Lucien at the table alone. He was smiling like a wolf, and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like his hand. 

“Who taught you to play?”

“The cook,” she answered without missing a beat. “You?”

“Eris. He’s horrid at cards. Worst poker face you could imagine, if you’d believe it.” A laugh bubbled out of her at his frankness, surprising both of them. She loved how he looked at her when she laughed. She didn’t care if she was all bubbly and cloudy-headed; she’d do anything to have him keep looking at her this way. 

He set his cards down. “Sorry, my lady. I fear you’ve been had. Royal flush.”

Her eyes shot down to the cards, disbelieving, and a huff left her. “Who’s the grifter now?” 

His hands raised, palm up in defense. “I would never ,” he gushed, his smile broadening. Before she could come up with anything clever to say, a beautiful sound filled the room, notes like a pianoforte clearing through the air. Vassa and Jurian were dancing by the shelves, tumbling over each other’s feet and laughing. 

“It’s a symphonia. I brought one back for them last Solstice.” Lucien was watching them, too. Elain recognized the small box from Nesta’s house– just like the gift Cassian had given to Nesta their first Solstice. She loved the idea of them, the music so beautiful and lovely and miraculously portable. The musical notes shifted into something much more fast-paced, the tune familiar to Elain. 

“Oh, I love this song!” Her father used to sing it when he drank back when he’d return from his trips–an old tavern song that he’d picked up. She remembered it because Feyre had learned it, too, choosing to sing it at the top of her lungs, much to their mother’s ire. 

“You know this song?” Jurian asked incredulously while Vassa and Lucien shook their heads. 

“My father used to sing it. Do you?”

Instead of answering, Jurian launched into the bawdy, horrid tavern song at the top of his lungs, met with laughs from Vassa as she encouraged Elain. 

The maiden and the miller! He’s a rotten, rough, old feller. He’d be rich if grain were gold, and she don’t mind him getting old! 

“Oh Gods, what is happening?” she heard Lucien whisper over Vassa’s raucous laughter. Normally, Elain would sit and clap along with the fun, as she was prone to do at Rita’s with her family in Velaris. But tonight, she was drunk, and she wasn’t in Velaris. She stood abruptly, a little unsteady on her feet, and smiled when she saw Jurian’s eyes widen. Then, she started the second verse. 

Ohhh, she came to the mill with a coy little smile, saying “Oh, miller, my dear, I’ve been walking for miles!” He said “I’ll fix it, my beauty. Come right on in! I’ve got a barn full of grain and more still of sin!”

Vassa’s mouth fell open and Lucien looked almost scandalized as Jurian’s claps filled the room. Jurian wasted no time coming to grab Elain’s arm, hooking the crook of her elbow through his and running them in circles while they yelled. 

So raise your drinks and tell the town with me. The maiden’s still yelling, and the miller’s lowered his fees! When the sun rises, they’ll be at it again, and we’ll still be singing– naughty patrons and friends!

Elain was exhilarated as the song finished, face flushed and chest heaving as they broke apart and she laughed until she had to wipe tears from her face. Vassa was up and over to them in a heartbeat, shrieking. 

“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant, my God . You’ll have to teach me so I can join in next time.”

“I feel certain I’ve heard at least two more verses to that song before,” laughed Jurian, breathless with the joy of it all, too. When Elain’s eyes found Lucien’s, he was leaning back in his chair, his mug at his lips, but a hunger in his eyes that found her swallowing hard to steady herself. 

The weight of his gaze burned into her, pressing like a warm hand on the small of her back, against her sternum, upon her very soul. There was such an intensity in the way he studied her, the focus so singular, the interest so heavy that she lost sight of anyone else in the room. It was always this way in Velaris, too– the air leaving her lungs whenever he was in her space– as though there was no room left for anything except the two of them. The tension clung to the air, not with the sharpness of desire but with the slow, steady burn of something deeper, some unanswered call between them. Realistically, she knew it was the bond, but in these uninterrupted moments, especially lately, it felt like something more than that. Like their yearning had become a real, tangible, palpable thing that pulsed between them when they got too close. 

Vassa’s squeal broke through the trance holding Elain, and she turned just in time to see Jurian toss the head of red curls over his shoulder and make for the stairs. 

“Goodnight!” Vassa tossed back, giggling as she halfheartedly waved a hand, bobbing as Jurian took the stairs two at a time. Moments later, a door slammed distantly, and they were alone. Elain slipped back into her seat, sipping the now-warm beer and making a face. 

“My, but they are virile,”” Elain said, then covered her mouth with her hand. She couldn’t believe she’d muttered it in front of Lucien, of all people. But he didn’t miss a beat. 

“Like rabbits, they are. Or perhaps weasels. Not sure which rodent is more dead set on repopulating the land.”

Elain snorted into her mug that she’d somehow picked up again, despite the disgusting warmth of the beer. When she looked up again, he was grinning at her. It lit her up inside to see it, some part of her repeatedly sparking to life every time she got to witness his joy.

“I like how you are here. Here, you treat me like I'm not some window with a crack in it.”  His brow furrowed. 

“You aren’t some fragile trinket, Elain. You’re a person.”

“You wouldn’t know it from home,” she scoffed, raising a brow in frustration. They treated her like some precious item, some gift china to be kept in a glass-panelled hutch for all to see but never touch. She knew she’d perpetuated it, but now it felt like shackles she couldn’t escape.

“I would.” His words were soft, but honest. She could feel the truth in them. 

“You would,” she agreed. “I like how you talk to me here.” It was the most honest she could be with him, though she felt them slipping into dangerous territory as she realized how low her voice sounded, how close the two leaned in over the table, nothing but the firelight flickering low between them.

“Then I’ll keep on,” he whispered back, and Elain couldn’t help the goosebumps that broke across her arms. Her eyes fell to his lips, so close and plush and lovely.

Dangerous. Stupid. Foolish. 

The vision flashed in her mind again. Alone, tears hot on her cheeks as though the stream of them from her eyes was fathomless–endless. She pulled back.

“I suppose it’s time for bed.” She despised the disappointment in his russet eye, the glint in it fading so slightly, but the feeling enough to make her feel like a criminal. 

“I’ll walk you up, then.” 

Ever the gentleman, Lucien took his cue, walking her back up the stairs and down the hall to the rooms across from each other. 

“Tonight was fun. Thank you for including me.” 

“Any time, Elain. Truly.” Her name on his tongue sounded the way it felt in his dreams, the tone low and dripping with honey in her mind as he stepped inside his own door and closed it behind him, eyes not leaving her until the last possible moment.

Sleep found Elain hard, wrapped in her soft sheets and overheated from the drink and her closeness to Lucien. The images came on quickly, hitting her hard and in flashes. This didn’t feel like one of Lucien’s dreams–this felt like her own dreams, her visions.

Broken dishes scattered across the forest floor–fine china shattered against a tree. A dark hand on her naked hip, the thumb rubbing slow circles across her skin. The voice of the Cauldron, soft and cradling, coaxing and familiar. 

Heart of gold 

Heir of light 

Soul of fire 

Cauldron’s delight 

The vision changed, the forest shifting around her. 

Seek it out, Elain. You must seek it out. 

Deep greens and browns faded, sliding into the golds and reds of autumn at breakneck speed. The leaves blurred and shuttered as the world stopped around her. She smelled the loam of the woods, the deep scent of turned earth and the dying forest of fall. A flutter of butterfly’s wings, deep orange and black, flitting behind a woman running through the trees. 

She turned, but the figure was gone, the woods darkening before her eyes. 

“I thought you of all people would understand.” The voice was so ragged with emotion, but still so familiar to her. She’d know Lucien’s voice blind, bound, and deaf. She whipped around but couldn’t see anything except the stretching expanse of trees. 

She needed to find him, the urge compelling her feet forward, nothing but the raking of the bond in her chest and the echoes of his heartbroken voice to guide her. 

“Do you think–do you think I wanted someone else shackled to me?” The words stopped her. 

Oh, Lucien.

“Do you think I wanted someone constantly in danger because of my name? My family? Again? Someonewho doesn’t even–someone who doesn’t even want me.” A sob echoed through the woods, and though it hadn’t come from her, the pain was Elain’s own. She wanted to tell him he was wrong. He wasn’t a shackle, but a rescue boat on dark seas. A beam of light when she’d known nothing but night for years. 

She wanted him to know that she was the problem, not him. Never him. 

The grief in his voice was so palpable that the pulsing of it in her chest nearly doubled her in two. 

“Lucien.” Her mouth moved to speak the word, but no sounds came out. Still, she managed to spot a flick of copper hair in the woods. She would tell him, here in this dream. 

“Lucien.” She tried harder this time, her voice still silent, but the quiet determination made her bold. For the first time, the need to say the words overpowered all else. She needed them spoken, even if no one heard them. Even if he never would. She pulled from the nearly-untouched well of magic that lived inside her, the inky, sparkling light that sat quietly waiting. She willed it to help her speak, to push the words from her mouth as she wound through the trees.

“I do want you, Lucien. I’ve never wanted anything more. But it will kill me when you leave.” She could feel the tears, hot and wet on her face. “It will wreck anything left of my soul, all that I’ve rebuilt. When you decide I am not who you want, it will destroy me. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s me. There’s something wrong with me.” 

Elain.  

The word was just a reverent whisper, but it filled her with something like light. Something like the sun.

She breathed in, and the air changed. Her body was waking, slipping back the way it always did after a vision or dreams. She fisted her fingers in the sheets, grounding herself as she breathed with her eyes closed. 

She froze, releasing her fingers, then gripping again. 

Satin. 

Not the soft cotton of her own, but slick, smooth satin. 

Her awareness returned, the breathing in the room beside her not her own, nor the bedding nor the sheets. The heat of him was palpable beside her, but the humming in her chest was unmissable, the bond trying to scream forward at their proximity. 

Elain had winnowed into his bed. 

Her eyes adjusted to the dark as she moved silently and slowly, extricating herself from the sheets, from the unmistakable pull of him. The bond wanted her to stay, ached to bring her back into the bed where she could tuck herself against his body. His face was pressed into the pillow where she’d just been, unmoving, but peaceful. His lips slightly parted in slumber, and his beautiful hair tousled over his face while he breathed quietly. He looked young, as calm as she’d ever seen him, and for the first time, Elain truly understood the allure of being able to paint what you saw the way Feyre did. She wished she could keep this moment forever–this version of him that was happy, that felt peace in the quiet hours of the morning. It physically pained her to set the sheets back down and walk quietly away, featherlight steps on the floor and controlled motions to turn the knob.

She didn’t let herself look back. 

As the door snicked quietly shut behind her, she leaned against it, hand against her mouth and the smell of him still on her skin. She could still hear the echoes of the way he’d said her name in her dream. 

Elain. Elain. Elain.

Chapter Text

The dream haunted her for days, but strangely enough, didn’t happen again. Many times, her visions would repeat–at the very least, fragments of them would–until they came to pass. But this time, there was nothing. Well, nothing except her normal dreams of Lucien, which seemed to be continuing to ramp up with their proximity, leaving her hot and wanting each day when she woke.

When she’d returned to her room that night, she’d lay in her own bed and stared at the ceiling in silence. She’d winnowed to his bed while she dreamed of him. She could only be thankful he’d been so soundly asleep. How would she have explained it? She tossed and turned until the sun came up, then wandered to her desk and wrote down the words she could remember on a sheet of parchment.

Heart of gold 

Heir of light 

Soul of fire 

Cauldron’s delight 

Twice the vision

Yet not the right 

Heal the rift 

And stay the course 

The darkness within us

Corrupt and descend

There was a pattern, and though Elain couldn’t make anything out about it yet, something was nagging her that the words went together. 

The Cauldron’s voice had seemed direct enough– Seek it out, Elain. You must seek it out. 

Perhaps it was something more. Pieces of something larger that meant nothing apart. She scribbled a word onto the top corner of the sheet before tucking it away. 

Prophecy?

Her eyes were so tired that they hurt, and even the hottest bath she could stand didn’t help. Still, she floated in it for a while, her body bobbing in the water as the heat soothed any remaining aches and pains. Her body had become accustomed to the training, and even the small soreness she felt regularly wasn’t such a noticeable thing anymore. Elain felt strong, capable, for perhaps the first time in her life. 

But now, with the sun setting over the manor’s library while she read a book, she began to wonder if she might be able to find something here among these stacks and histories. Jurian had gone to town to finish purchasing lumber for a table Vassa wanted to build, and she and Lucien had been reading quietly together for hours. It was a comfortable silence between them, and she appreciated that any awkwardness they might have once felt seemed to have disappeared in her time here. She placed a ribbon to mark her page in the book of fairytales she’d been reading.

“Are there any books here on prophecies?” 

Lucien looked up from his own book, something on historical wars, and tilted his head. She tried not to admire the way his silken hair slipped over the shoulder of his shirt. He was always so nicely dressed in Velaris, but she had to admit, she loved this more casual style on him. It was strange to see him in a combination of the human and fae fashions, but it suited him so nicely.   

“There are mostly human books here, with the exception of a few I’ve brought back with me. Are you looking for something in particular?”

She debated for only a split second, deciding to tell him, the bond purring quietly as though content with her choice. “I’ve been having dreams–visions–and I think I’m getting pieces of a prophecy. It’s nothing I can make sense of, but occasionally I know multiple Seers will have the same vision of a prophecy. I thought maybe I could find it, or some clues.”

She clipped her words, realizing she’d been rambling. It had always driven that idiot Graysen crazy when she’d done that. He’d tell her repeatedly to get to the point, and less and less kindly as time went on. But Lucien simply nodded, furrowing his brow as though deep in thought before he set his book down on the side table. 

“Summer keeps prophecies for research purposes. Day, as well. They’ve both got extensive libraries, and historically, they’ve been fair about sharing.”

“Really?”

“I’ve never seen them, simply because I haven’t needed to, but I know they keep exhaustive records. I could reach out.”

Could it be this easy? She simply brought it up, and Lucien had provided a solution. It had taken nearly two years for her sisters to give her even a semblance of freedom, but Lucien trusted her intuition–hadn’t even questioned it. 

Her eyes turned so quickly that she was lucky she’d been sitting on the couch, her body flung back into the cushions as the milky light took over. 

Both of them sat at a table, the purple-pink twilight breaking across a brilliantly colored sky, the beach and turquoise water glimmering outside the stone and oyster-tabby windows. Tables full of books sat all around them. Her fingers glancing across a page as his met hers over the ink while they listened to the crashing waves. 

She gasped for air, coming out of the vision more quickly than normal. She wasn’t used to these abrupt visions, but her body seemed to be adjusting as quickly as the Seeing was. Lucien was on the couch with her, already a cup of water held in his hand for her and his other behind her head cradling it. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Her voice was quiet, breathless, but she didn’t feel tired–she felt invigorated. “Summer. We should go to Summer.”

He looked at her, taking it all in with that same wonder in her eyes that made her skin flush. “Did you see it?”

“I saw us there, but just looking. It may be a dead end.”

“It’s worth a try,” he replied confidently, handing the water to her, which she gratefully took. “I’m happy to follow any leads. Let me send a letter to Tarquin and Cresseida today explaining the situation and see if they’ll have us.” 

It could really be that easy. 

Even though she was fine and feeling better, Lucien returned to his spot sitting beside her on the couch as he drafted the letter and she resumed reading her book. He was close enough that she could smell him, that gorgeous scent enveloping her like a soft blanket. She knew she shouldn’t indulge in this–things were so much easier when she’d been holding him at arm’s length. But these weeks here at the manor had changed something between them so fundamentally that she knew she could never return to the way things were before. 

The bond hummed in her chest again, more and more content and simultaneously more restless these days. Like the closer they got, the happier it was, but the more it wanted . She understood the feeling. She may not be able to go back to how things were, and she wouldn’t want to, but she also knew that blurring these lines was going to lead to her heartbreak. 

She didn’t want to think about it. Instead, she and Lucien remained on the couch together until the sun started to sink below the trees. 

+++

The air had the same chill in it as Vassa and Elain walked out into the dark night, though Elain could tell it was growing milder by the day. Elain’s stomach was full and her mind was at peace, a good meal, great company with Vassa, and the single mead she’d had put her into an excellent mood. When Vassa had returned at nightfall, Jurian was already elbow-deep in work on the new table, and he’d conscripted Lucien for help after dinner. 

When Vassa had returned, she suggested that she and Elain go into town to eat at one of the taverns instead of cooking something, and Elain had readily said yes, excited to explore. She hadn’t been to the town here since she’d been mortal, and she’d certainly not spent time in the taverns. They’d had a lovely, warm meal, each gotten a drink, and had enjoyed some conversation that warmed a place in her heart that had too long gone empty. 

Now, despite the late hour, they were set to walk back through the town and the short trip through the woods back to the manor. It wasn’t too far, but enough that Elain felt lucky they’d brought a lantern and knives. Elain was stronger now in her fae body, but she was also more aware than ever of things that lurked in the darkness.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight. I can’t remember the last time I went somewhere different to eat,” Vassa chirped as they headed towards the center of town and onwards toward the trees. There were plenty of taverns in this village, the place itself large and scattered as you got closer to the outskirts. The town had truly had everything a mortal could have wanted, they’d just lacked the money or means to enjoy any of it. 

“It was my pleasure, truly. It’s nice to have a friend.” Elain flushed a bit at her show of vulnerability, but Vassa shot her a bright grin. 

“Agreed,” Vassa nodded, curls bouncing. “So how has it been being around Lucien? You two seem pretty comfortable.” 

Elain fought the urge to groan and press the palms of her hands into her eyes. She didn’t want to talk about it, but she also did. She probably needed to. It would be so nice to have someone to share this with. She wasn’t exactly sure it was advice she wanted, but even just sharing this with someone might take some of the weight off of her. She exhaled deeply.

“It’s hard. But it’s also the easiest thing I've ever done.” She scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all. “The bond is thrilled. I feel it in my chest at all times, preening and happy and pushing for more. I worried it would be awkward, but it’s not. He’s so easy to care for, and I’ve loved seeing him here where he’s so comfortable.” 

She chanced a look at Vassa as they walked through the empty market. Vassa was watching her with rapt attention. 

“Apologies if I’m being obtuse, but what’s the problem then?” 

Elain groaned and Vassa laughed incredulously. “You’re both adults. He’s so charmed by you that the sun practically beams from his ass when you’re around. Clearly, you’re equally enchanted. Why don’t you want him?” 

She did want him. So intensely. That was the problem. 

“It isn’t that simple. It’s not that I don’t want him. I want him so badly that sometimes I worry my body is going to go off without me and do it anyway. I want him so much I can feel it in my teeth, in my blood, in my bones.” She wasn’t sure why she was sharing all of this with Vassa in such detail, but she found that she couldn't stop. It had been so long since she’d had someone to talk to who wouldn’t try to fix everything for her. “I want him even more because I know I can’t–I shouldn’t.” All the words rushed out of her, so desperate to find a home in someone else’s ears.

“I understand. Things are rarely simple when they’re important.” And it didn’t feel trite, the words holding so much truth in them that Elain could feel the genuine nature of them. 

“To be honest, I’m nervous to be around him. Nervous that nothing I do is going to stop this now that it’s begun.” She was foolish, talking about this, about them as though it were ever a possibility. 

Though it was a possibility, a very real one. Just one she wouldn’t allow herself. 

“Is there a reason you won’t let yourself have this, even though you clearly want it?” Vassa’s voice was soft, caring.

“There is.” She pressed her lips together. As though remembering what gifts the horrors had given to Elain, Vassa’s face shifted in the lantern light. 

“And you think avoiding fate will save you from whatever you’ve seen?” She’d put it together more quickly than Elain had imagined, the words ringing in her head. Elain’s eyes met hers, even though she wanted to look away. Was she being selfish for forsaking this gift, this bond, in order to avoid more pain?

She looked away. 

“Elain.” Her name was a sigh, one that held great sadness. “I understand wanting to avoid pain. I understand being hurt so deeply that you never want to feel again. But why would you deprive yourself of all joy just to avoid something that hasn’t happened yet?”

“He’ll leave.” The words were out before she could stop them, the burning in her eyes overwhelming all sense. “If I give in–i f I give all of myself to him–he’ll leave. And I won’t survive it.”

Now it was Vassa’s turn to scoff. “Not that you asked for my opinion, but I am going to give it anyway.” Elain laughed wetly. “I can’t see any world in which that male would leave you. Not a single one. I’ve never seen a person so stupidly besotted.”

“You must be ignoring Jurian, then,” Elain clipped back, humor and denial lacing together as she deflected. 

“Hush, stop trying to change the subject.” Gods, she was sharp. It was nice for Elain to have someone to keep her honest like this. “That male is crazy about you. He’s done everything in his power to hold himself back while you figure out what it is that you want. But if you asked him to, he’d fall at your feet, Elain. That’s not a male who would leave you.” Elain knew the words held truth. She’d thought the same so many times. Lucien was perhaps the most loyal person she’d ever known. Most patient, most honorable, most kind…

But she knew what she’d seen, the pain even through the vision breathtakingly staggering in its violence. 

“Listen, I’m not saying you should or shouldn’t. But what I am telling you is that life is unpredictable and real love is rare.” Elain found nothing but somber sincerity in Vassa’s eyes. “You can’t live your life based around fear. It’ll kill you more painfully than any heartbreak ever could.”

Elain supposed Vassa did have the correct insight on life being unpredictable–at least as much so as Elain did. But the words knocked something loose in her. Vassa was right. Life was unpredictable, and since she’d been tossed into the Cauldron and had the course of her life changed forever, so few decisions had really been hers and hers alone. Even before that, if she was truthful, her life had never been her own. But Elain had that freedom now. The only person holding her back from this was herself. 

Still, she wasn’t going to make the decision tonight, and she was tired of talking about herself. 

“So what about you? What sort of things do you want out of life?” Elain asked.

“Switching topics, Elain? Beneath you,” Vassa chuckled. She didn’t look at her, but instead straight ahead in the dimming lights as the buildings around them grew further apart. “If I’m ever free, I would love a family of my own.” Elain wasn’t sure why, but it wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. “My parents are long dead; I have no siblings. There’s just the distant cousin who rules in my stead, and she’s wonderful, but I don’t really know her. Since I was young, I’ve always wanted a house full of laughter, family, joy.” She hummed low after she said it, bowing her head, though even her curls seemed to bounce less than normal. 

“But none of it matters while I’m like this. It’s just a dream.” 

Elain pictured the manor full of wild, rambunctious, smiling children–Jurian and Vassa chasing them around. The manor would always be filled with the love that it deserved. The smile crossed Elain’s face as she imagined it. She stopped, placing a hand on Vassa’s arm until she stopped, too.

“Those would be the happiest children to ever exist.” Surprise flashed across Vassa’s face, her eyes growing a bit misty in the low light. 

“We’ll see, I suppose.” 

Elain nodded. “We will. It’s a lovely dream. You deserve that dream.” 

Vassa smiled with tight lips as they started back again, almost to the edge of town now. Here, the buildings were set further apart, but larger–the darkness of the forest close to swallowing them up despite the lantern light. In front of them, the door to a tavern burst open, a few bodies pushing out absorbed in laughter as they stumbled into the street in front of Elain and Vassa.

The light from the open door of the tavern spilled over the men, and Elain froze. 

Vassa tugged at her sleeve to step around them, then stopped when she realized Elain had gone rigid, her eyes fixed on the man in front. The light illuminated him, brown hair tousled and frame large. But Elain’s attention was hooked on the iron band around the ring finger of his left hand. 

“Elain?” Time seemed to stop when she heard him speak her name, whipping her back to her senses and making her wish she’d fled into the dark. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to see him ever again. 

“Elain, is that you?” Her eyes finally shot to his, just as blue as she’d remembered. Her ears were ringing, her body willing her to run. Instead, she called upon years of training to present a mask of propriety, even as her mind and body fizzled violently with rage and grief and discomfort. 

“Hello, Graysen.” Vassa spoke the words and Elain could only feel relief that she’d done it for her. Still, Graysen’s eyes didn’t leave Elain, poring over her as though he might find something there that had been lacking for him before. She’d never forgotten the way he’d made her feel, the way he’d embarrassed her by breaking her heart in front of everyone. She’d have done anything for him, and now, standing in front of him again, she wasn’t quite sure why. 

He wasn’t ugly, but he certainly wasn’t as lovely as she’d remembered. He looked the same–tall and broad and strong, but it was as though someone had taken the sun off of him. He looked so incredibly….dull. 

“What are you doing here, Elain?” Graysen ignored Vassa entirely, stepping forward in the dark toward Elain as she involuntarily shuffled back. She didn’t want him in her space, in her life, in her memories anymore. 

“She’s our guest, at the manor. Not that it’s any of your business.” His eyes finally snapped to Vassa as she growled the words at him. 

“At the manor then? With your fae mate?” He said the words with a haughty laugh, the intent to bite. But Elain was surprised that her shock had thawed, her reaction simmering into something that felt a bit more like pity. She wondered what poor girl he’d convinced to marry him. Wondered idly if he’d convinced them to sleep with him before wedlock, too. Wondered if it had been just as disappointing as it had been for her, but if the girl had been trained to take it all in stride to look toward their future. 

“Yes, I’m staying there with Lucien.” Elain didn’t let her voice waver. Graysen’s lips twitched into a sneer at the name.

“I suppose that isn’t surprising. Though I assumed you lived in Prythian full time now. I shouldn’t be surprised you came back here. Did you come to find how the world has moved on without you?” 

The words were meant to cut, but Elain was finding absolute peace in the fact that they had no effect on her. Her lack of reaction seemed to anger Graysen. 

“I married anyway, you know. Thank God, a better match. A love match this time.” His desperation felt palpable, so much so that Elain could almost taste it on her tongue as she simply lifted a brow at him. 

“Edith Watts. You’ll remember her.” 

Elain did. A girl almost eight years younger than her, still a child for all intents and purposes. She’d been from old money that was running out even when the Archerons had still resided here. No wonder. 

“Congratulations,” she offered, and something like rage flared in Graysen’s eyes. “I wish you both the best.” 

Especially poor Edith . 

As though he could hear her thoughts, he stepped forward again, the two men at his sides mirroring the motion. Elain felt more than saw Vassa’s hand move to where the dagger was kept in her pockets. 

“Always so proper, Elain Archeron. So good in society. Always the right words to say, the right innocent look, the right use of your–” he looked her up and down and she felt unclean. “–assets.” He was in her space, and the rage burned within her. He smelled of rotting trees to her fae senses, liquor and hate on his breath–stagnancy and iron and vitriol. 

She forced a polite smile, gritting her teeth behind her lips. “It pays to be trained to handle all things, wouldn’t you agree?”

He chuckled, pulling back, but the laugh was mirthless. “Yes, I suppose you’d think so. How does one prepare to fuck an animal?” 

Icy rage overwhelmed Elain in a heartbeat, the dig at Lucien lighting her on fire. He knew nothing of him, and he never would. Lucien had more gentlemanly qualities in a single finger than Graysen would ever know in his life. But Graysen just shrugged, a shoulder raising as he stepped back to leave, motioning to the men beside him that they were to follow. “You would have made a lovely bride, if not for the unfortunate circumstances. But I think I got what I needed from you, regardless.” 

She heard her knuckles crack, unaware of how tightly she’d been clenching her fists. Graysen noticed it too, his eyes widening slightly as he looked down and she stepped forward, remembering what she was now. He stumbled back so fast that his feet nearly caught. He was used to demure and deferring Elain, but she didn’t feel that way tonight. She saw fear in his eyes overcoming the malice, and she relished it. But the rage was crawling through her veins, the fury at his words overpowering all else. 

How dare he speak to her that way? Of Lucien?

Her palms twitched, that flare of power that she recognized within her growing restless as she watched him.

“Elain…” Vassa whispered her name, grounding her just enough to pull back.

“The only unfortunate circumstance about that engagement was you, Graysen.” And with that, she stepped around him to walk into the darkness, Vassa jogging to keep up by her side. 

+++

“What happened?” Lucien was on the front porch as they approached the manor, Elain still plodding ahead and the shorter Vassa walking quickly to keep up. Behind Elain, a trail of night-blooming flowers covered the path, filling in her footsteps and spreading to form a blanket of dark florals behind them. 

“Graysen.” It was all Vassa needed to say to explain, Lucien’s eyes flashing even in the dark. Elain stopped in front of him, her breath coming in sharp pants. The walk home had only fueled her fury, the wrath over him speaking to her that way compounding with everything from their past. She’d dismissed so many things back then, thinking first that she was in love, and then that she was fulfilling some obligation. She pitied her human self. 

Having distance and settling in immortality had only served to highlight everything wrong with the way women were treated–raised to be breeding stock, planners, another commodity kept pretty and docile on the shelf. Even at her most sheltered in Velaris, she’d never had the same expectations thrust upon her. 

And it was people– men– like Graysen who perpetuated this. He wanted a submissive woman, had wanted her pliant and willing and eager to please. It was why she’d let him take her before their wedding–more than once. He’d given her honeyed words about love and acts of service, and she’d believed every bit of it. Convinced her that this was how a good wife loved, quietly in the dark while he sought his own pleasure from her. He’d whispered that he loved her, so the pain over pleasure was okay. And he’d told her she was lovely after they’d finished, even when he’d left her in a pool of her own blood, unsatisfied and feeling uneasy about what they’d done. Still, she’d bought it so convincingly that, even after the Cauldron, she thought he’d still love her. 

Jurian came out, taking in the scene before him, looking at the path and back at Elain.

“Did you do that?” he asked, gesturing to the flowers. She looked back, noticing them for the first time, but Lucien was already in front of her, eyes checking over her wildly as though he might find some mortal wound. “Did you know you could do that?” Jurian continued, but her focus wasn’t on Jurian.

“Elain,” Lucien whispered, concerned but firm, the need to protect so heady that she could feel it in her own chest. His hands were warm on her biceps, his fingers curling around them and grounding her back in the here and now as she took a shuddering breath, Vassa stopping beside them. “What did he say to you?”

The words were a growl, and paired with the look of absolute homicide in his eyes, Elain’s stomach flipped. She had no doubt in her mind that Graysen was a cowardly man with the heart and loyalty of a boy. But Lucien–Lucien would kill for her–he’d live for her, he’d die for her. 

The thought buoyed her spirits, and her rage deflated a bit. “He–” She didn’t even know what to tell him. Vassa stepped in. 

“He asked her what it was like to fuck an animal. Then he told her he’d gotten what he needed from her anyway.” Elain felt a flare of shame again at the words, but she was glad Vassa had been the one to say them. It’s not as though modesty worked the same way amongst the fae, but a part of her felt almost worried to confirm that she wasn’t virginal in front of Lucien.

Lucien was still for a moment, as though processing the words she’d said. His eyes never left Elain, nor his hands from her shoulders, and she watched as a thousand emotions flickered across his face. Suddenly, he was moving, taking off for the path through the woods where they’d just come. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Jurian had him by the arm. 

“Let go,” Lucien growled, but Jurian wouldn’t back down. 

“You cannot kill him.”

“Why not?” 

Elain and Vassa watched on, Lucien’s back to them, muscles tense and fingers gripped into fists. Elain was suddenly too aware of what the situation was doing to her, her face flushed and pulse ratcheting up so loudly she was sure that even the two mortals could hear it. 

“You will start a war if you kill him–show them they’re right about you. Is that what you want?” Jurian’s words were level, but imploring. “Do you want them to be right about you?” 

Lucien paused, but Elain saw the moment his shoulders slumped. He turned back to them, eyes meeting Elain’s across the dark lawn. In two strides, he was back by her side, grabbing her hand surprisingly gently for how quickly he was moving. 

“Come on.” 

She followed without hesitation, without even knowing where they were going, his warm fingers wrapped lightly around her wrist feeling comforting. They reached the edge of the woods by the manor and he turned back to her. 

“Is this okay?” She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant or where they were going, but her veins were coursing with adrenaline and she trusted him. She nodded. Immediately, they were winnowing, both his hands on her arms to steady her as they hit the ground. They landed in darkness, only the light of the moon and stars above to illuminate them. Lucien let go of her arm and flicked his fingers, fae lights flickering on around them in the trees. 

A gasp of surprise left her parted lips as she took in the sight around them. They were in a clearing deep in the woods with enough faelight cast to see a few makeshift wooden tables, all stacked high with what appeared to be fine dining ware. In the slight distance, the ground was covered in white as far as the eye could see. She stepped closer, squinting to look more closely. 

It was all broken china–glasses, cups, dishes, bowls. It looked exactly how it had in her vision, a graveyard of high quality porcelain and clay here in the woods. 

“What is this place?”

He brushed past her, taking that smoky scent of him past her nose. She inhaled greedily as he walked by to pick up a plate. 

“I come here a lot when I’m frustrated, or sad, or angry with everything. Sometimes it helps to break things.” He handed her the plate and she took it gladly, her fingers already twitching with the need to shatter it against a tree. 

He lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “There was a lot of this at the manor that no one was going to use. I, ah, hope none of it had any sentimental value.” 

A laugh exploded from Elain, near hysterical in its abruptness, and Lucien’s eyes widened. But the grin that took over his face immediately after looked like the rising sun to Elain, and she let her laugh wind down, smiling back. 

“I didn’t even know we had this much plateware,” she laughed out with a sigh. “How silly.” In a split second decision, she tossed the plate as hard as she could at a tree, watching it shatter with the force of the impact. It felt good. 

Lucien was already handing her another, which she tossed again, harder this time, and she clapped when it exploded against the bark. She threw and threw until her breath came in pants, not realizing she’d begun crying until she slowed down and touched her face. She stopped, the plate in her hand falling at her side while she wiped her tears on her wrist. 

She hated that she’d let Graysen of all people get such a reaction out of her, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t just what he’d said tonight. It was years of her life wasted, wanting something so paltry for herself. She’d pummeled herself down, sanding any hard edges until she’d fit, smiling, into every small box presented to her. She’d made herself so little, so irrelevant, that she had no idea who she was or what she wanted, so used to denying any urges or wants for herself. 

Denying herself joy and happiness for the fear of consequences–of losing everything. 

She was angry at the time she’d lost. She was angry at the parts of herself she’d given away. She was angry that she had accepted it all, never fighting for more. She was angry that she was still doing it now, denying herself the chance to love Lucien–kind Lucien–who had been nothing but lovely to her from the moment he’d wrapped a jacket around a wet stranger’s shoulders on the worst night of their life.

She felt his presence beside her, and she rushed to wipe the tears away again. His touch on her shoulder was soft, comforting and warm in a way that she felt all the way inside her chest. He almost never touched her, in training or otherwise, and the heat and weight of him felt like magic.

“Sometimes, some things have to break to make room for something new.” 

She sniffed–certainly, he hadn’t heard her thoughts? 

“No one here expects perfection, Elain. You put too much pressure on yourself. We like you as you are, and we’ll like you if you want to be someone else, too.” The sincerity of his words was so physical that she could feel how much he meant them, his genuine nature not something she’d ever question. He wouldn’t lie to her, and she knew that as certainly as she knew her own name. 

They would still like her, even if she wasn’t quiet or demure or shoved into some prim and proper box. Lucien would still want her. She put her hand on his where it lingered on her shoulder.

“Thank you for this, Lucien.”

The bond rippled with something that felt like pure, radiant happiness. “Any time, Elain.”

Chapter Text

Elain’s skin was covered in sweat and sticking violently to the sheets when she lurched awake. She could still feel his hands on her body, fingertips pressed bruisingly tight against her hips, his mouth between her legs while she gasped for air.

She pressed her eyes closed, refusing to open them just yet. Part of her hoped she’d open them and be in his bed again just for the excuse, but her cotton sheets knotted in her hands told her that she wouldn’t be getting any help on that front. 

If she wanted Lucien, she’d need to be the one to do something about it. That much had been made clear. She’d wanted it so badly that night at the card table, then again when he’d taken her to the place in the woods littered with porcelain. It had been where his dreams had manifested last night. She could still smell the woods, still hear the cracked china beneath their feet as he’d pushed her gently against rough bark and lifted her skirts to press his tongue between her–

A knock on the door made her eyes slam open finally, the light streaming through the windows making her hiss and pull the sheet up. 

The knock sounded again. 

“Just a moment!” she called, grumbling as she got out of bed and pulled her dressing robe from the back of her desk chair. It had to be Lucien or, less likely, Jurian, since the sun was up. She did her best to smooth her wild curls, swiping her fingers beneath her eyes before she cracked open the door.

In the hall, Lucien stood looking as sharp and lovely as always. 

How in the Cauldron’s name had he gotten dressed so quickly?

His eyes quickly roamed up and down her body, the lightest tinge of dusky pink smattering across his high, golden cheekbones as he realized how underdressed she was. Though her first instinct was to be embarrassed and pull her dressings more tightly around her, she quite liked the effect she had on him. 

“Good morning, Lucien.” Her voice was still covered in the low rasp of sleep, and she didn’t miss the minute shudder that ran through him.

“Good morning, Elain,” he responded, holding up a piece of parchment. “Tarquin and Cresseida have welcomed us to Summer at our leisure.”

My, that was certainly fast.

He grinned. “--provided that you conduct yourself better than your sister upon her first visit.” The laugh bubbled out of Elain before she could stop it. She knew all about Feyre’s first visit to the Summer Court. Lucien smiled down at her, looking delighted by her reaction.

“That sounds lovely. I still haven’t been to Summer. It will be an adventure.” The warmth on his face settled in her own stomach.

“An adventure for us both, then.” They were caught up staring for a moment, the silence not uncomfortable between them, before Lucien spoke again. “Would you like to join me for breakfast? Or lunch? Jurian’s gone into town for the day.”

“I’d love to. Give me just a moment to dress?” He eyed her again, his brows raising. 

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course. I’ll be out here.” 

Elain grinned, shutting the door quietly. She’d never heard Lucien struggle for words around anyone but her, his speech and presentation always impeccable. The truth was, she loved how she disarmed him, loved that he was only nervous around her and even then, got glimpses of his bold and rakish charm between. She loved when he was nervous, but she loved when he was bold, too. 

Frankly, Elain was finding she enjoyed a great deal about her mate. She shoved that miserable vision away when it reared its ugly head as though by habit. She wouldn’t think of her tears, and she wouldn’t think of that jacket. 

Vassa’s words had constantly been in her mind since their conversation.

You can’t live your life based around fear.

She was right, of course. Elain had spent the last few years doing just that. In fact, the more thought she’d given to it, the more she understood she’d spent her whole life doing that. That vision had scared her so profoundly that she’d denied herself something that seemed so lovely–something she wanted so badly sometimes that it hurt. She still wasn’t convinced that giving in was the smart choice, but every day spent here with him chipped away at her resolve. Lucien was absolutely everything she’d never dared to dream or hope a husband might be for her. Sure, he had the qualities that she’d always expected to be matched with–he was gentlemanly, kind, and proper, raised in society and able to navigate the complexities of noble social circles with ease. But there was more to it than that. She’d never imagined her husband could want her just as badly, could so clearly seek her own pleasure with his own. True, there were only his dreams to go off of, and they could mean anything. But if they meant something, she imagined it was that he was just as invested in her enjoyment as he was his own. 

She flushed as she finished buttoning her dress, fanning her face with a hand. Those dreams of his were going to be the death of her.

When she emerged into the hallway, he was still waiting, back rested against the wall beside his door and copper hair falling into his face. When his eyes met hers, she swallowed the butterflies that threatened to break free from her stomach. 

You can’t live your life based around fear.

Maybe she needed to stop.

She enjoyed her tea, made perfectly as always, while Lucien grabbed some toast, butter, and jam to place on the table for them. They spent breakfast talking about Feyre, comparing stories of her former life, and how far she’d come. Elain wondered, at one point, if she might be jealous of the way Lucien spoke of Feyre’s time in Spring. But she was pleased to find that he spoke with a sort of pride about her sister, in seeing how far she’d come. 

They may have had their differences, and they certainly continued to, but it was easy to see that Lucien had a genuine care for her sister that warmed Elain. 

“I don’t imagine we’ll find her back in Spring anytime soon,” Elain mused, sipping the last of her tea. Lucien’s face seemed to drop at this. 

“No, I don’t suppose we will.” 

Elain wasn’t sure what spurred her to say anything, but the words were out before she thought better.

“It wasn’t handled as well as it could have been.” Elain knew all about the situation, from visions of her own, from the twins, from snippets of conversation she’d heard when no one had thought she was listening. It was amazing what you could learn when people thought you were uninterested. Everything in Spring and after had been horrifically mishandled on both ends, and it seemed, even now after everything, that things were damaged so irreparably that even Rhysand didn’t know how to alter the course.

Lucien seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Both of them came from homes where they weren’t shown a healthy way to love. It’s hard to learn that on your feet when others are depending on you.”

Elain weighed the words, turning them over and over in her mind. He certainly wasn’t wrong about her own family, though she’d been fortunate to have her father. The memory stung. 

“You came from a home like that, as well,” she responded instead. It was a statement, not a question. There was no hiding the Vanserra lineage or what everyone in Prythian seemed to know about them.

“And I have mishandled many, many things because of that. I don’t excuse my actions because of it, and I’ve had many chances to refine how I handle things. Tamlin and Feyre had not. I am glad to see Feyre has been able to move on from it.” He inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly. “I don’t know if Tamlin ever will.”

She’d seen him more than once in her visions, just small glimpses of an animal prowling slowly through the woods–aimless and haggard. 

“Tamlin knows where to go for help, but he chooses pride again and again.” Lucien sighed like that sentence alone carried enough weight to crush him. “Enough of that, though. When would you like to leave for Summer?”

Elain was surprised he was leaving it up to her. “When’s the earliest we can?”

“Their letter said any time. It’s just a short winnow.” Lucien looked almost as excited as she felt, though she assumed he’d been many, many times.

“Perhaps tomorrow? Is that too soon?”

Something that looked like amusement and excitement flashed across Lucien’s face before he smiled. “Tomorrow, then, my lady.”

Since then, she’d been filled with a restless excitement. She’d gone to her room after breakfast and packed a small bag. She’d intended to read, but she couldn’t sit still long enough to focus. She’d written a short letter to Feyre explaining she’d be out of touch for a few days and where they’d be going, then she gave up on keeping herself settled. Instead, she found herself changing into trousers that she’d finally come to accept and making her way to the garden, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite places in the manor. The greenhouse was always warm, the heavy air teeming with the floral smells of life and soil. Vassa had given her free reign of the garden, and she’d taken liberties to move a few things for optimum growth. She’d also requested a few more seeds and clippings from Feyre that she knew would be appreciated here–spices and greens and edible plants that she could contribute to their dinners. Feyre had already sent two batches that Elain planted immediately–Elain was certain she was growing tired of scouring the River House garden on her behalf.

With her hands in the dirt and the vines around her, Elain felt closer to her powers than she ever did. Though her Seeing was mostly the only manifestation she’d seen so far save for the accidental winnowing, she hadn’t expected the way the earth had bloomed around her the night she’d encountered Graysen, and she hadn’t been able to recreate it since. At least not intentionally. She wondered if it had something to do with the way she gravitated towards the plants. It had been something she’d loved even as a human, but things thrived in a new way beneath her hands now. If that was an added bonus of becoming fae, she certainly wouldn’t shirk it off. She never felt more at home than she did within a garden, surrounded by the promise of new life.

She sighed, brushing her hand over her brow and patting the last of the moist soil down around her newly potted mint leaves. They’d be lovely for tea, and she was glad to contribute. Things felt good here, settled, and only a few weeks in, she already felt more at home here than she ever had when she’d actually lived here. She felt more like she belonged here than she had in Velaris, either. 

She pushed the thought aside, halfheartedly vowing to examine it further another time. She nearly jumped from her skin when she heard Lucien speak. 

“What are you planting?”

She fell back on her tailbone, hand over her heart while he rushed forth from the doorway to help her back up.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you heard me there.” He held his hand out to pull her upright again, and heat sparked through her palm at the touch.

“No apologies necessary. I was lost in my own head.” She stood and dusted herself off, already missing the feel of his hand in hers. “Mint leaves. I thought everyone might like them for some tea.” She suddenly remembered she had something to show him. “Oh, do you have a moment?”

He nodded, and she led him back towards the side of the garden they kept constantly irrigated. They were the plants that required a more damp environment, and the upkeep was too much to do by hand. Before she’d come, Lucien had enchanted this area to be warmer than the others, and she’d transferred a few things here to start, namely, the first group of seeds she’d requested from Night.

They stopped in front of the bed, a variety of trees, vines, and smaller plants, already sprouting due to the magic around them. 

She saw the moment his eye focused in, familiarity seeping into his expression.

“Are these–these weren’t here before.” 

Elain nearly bounced on the balls of her feet. She pointed as she said the names, “Cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and black pepper.” She grinned as he turned from the plants to face her. “It’s for your tea. I know the spice blend is the one you always choose when you visit–” She cut herself off.

She could have smacked herself in the head. Color flooded her cheeks. She must sound insane to know the type of tea he took when she’d gone to such lengths to avoid his visits.

But watching him stand here and blink as she’d said the words, as though no one had ever cared enough to do something just for him before, her heart pounded like it was trying to escape from her chest. Lucien deserved someone who would care for him loudly. Had he ever had that? Someone he hadn’t needed to hide? The realization hit her with such stunning solidity that it nearly took her breath from her chest–she wanted to be that person so badly. She wanted to give him everything, see this look on his face each day. 

It was getting harder and harder to hold on to that one sad vision–a single scene that had been tethering her now for two years. Perhaps things could change. Plenty of visions never came to pass, circumstances changing before anything ever materialized. And she hadn’t had the vision once since she’d arrived here. Maybe coming back here had shifted something. Maybe…

He cleared his throat, and Elain blinked back to the present.

To his credit, he didn’t call her out. He just looked back at the assortment of plants. “Elain…Thank you. No one’s ever…” He trailed off, brushing his fingers over the leaves of the evergreen. “Thank you.”

She cleared her throat, suddenly unsure of if perhaps she shouldn’t have shown him. “Oh, it’s nothing. Truly.” The silence swallowed the air between them. “Was there something you’d come to ask?”

“Oh, yes. I wanted to see if you felt like training today instead of tonight. I didn’t want to keep you up all night and have you tired for the trip tomorrow.” He seemed to register the double meaning in the words just as she did, a wicked smile hitting his face as the surprise registered across hers. 

“Of course. I’m already dressed for it. Just let me wash my hands.”

Training in the midday sun was much different than training at night, and even though it was still winter, the warmth of the enclosed courtyard paired with the sun’s ray had sweat pouring down Elain’s back. They’d started on defensive moves just a few days before, but now she wasn’t sure she wanted Lucien anywhere near her like this. Especially not with the horrifying fae ability to scent absolutely everything. It was already enough that she had to fight for her life every day to keep the scent of her arousal under control while Lucien paraded around shirtless. But now she’d have to do that with the added measure of him topless and sweating, all the while hoping she didn’t smell like a bag of garbage.

She was currently working on maneuvering herself so she didn’t need to touch him at all. He’d been so respectful since she’d been here, always careful, but with these defensive moves, they had to move in closer proximity. She could only place so much distance between them, and it wasn’t easy to ignore the way her body rioted against the distance.

Apparently, today, Lucien was feeling bold, the heat of the day and the heat between them lowering both their inhibitions. 

“Come on, Elain. You have to actually touch me if we're going to train.” She huffed, blowing a loose hair off her sun-reddened cheek and glaring halfheartedly at him. 

“I am touching you,” she growled, trying to fall back into the position he’d put her in while simultaneously trying to ignore the glimmer of his hair as it caught in the sun. 

Gods, he was beautiful.

“Then why are you acting so flighty about it? I don't bite.” The look in his eyes was pure challenge, his brows raising in a bet. The glint of his canines caught her eyes as he shot her a feline smile, and she tried not to think about how they’d felt running across her pulse point in the dream. Tried not to think anything about him at all. The subtext was there: but I would if you asked.

Elain wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she wanted to be bold, too.

She scoffed. “If you would keep your distracting dreams under control, perhaps we wouldn’t have these problems.” Lucien's composure broke then, a laugh barreling out of him as he dropped all pretense and abandoned his fighting stance. Elain was shocked into stopping, as well, the surprise clear as day across her face. When he'd finally stopped laughing, his eyes opened to meet hers across the space between them, suddenly aware of how close they were. His gaze could only be described as something hungry, and Elain’s heart flipped to see it. 

He took a step towards her, unhurried and purposeful, then another, the already tight space between them closing in. She froze like an animal in a trap as he halted in front of her, near enough to feel his breath on her neck and the resulting explosion of goosebumps across her skin as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. 

“Those dreams aren’t mine.” 

“What?” The word rushed out, breathless and sharp. 

“Those dreams where we’re together? Those are your dreams, Elain. Not mine. I’m just your willing participant.” 

And then he pulled abruptly away, Elain feeling his cold absence like the sun sliding behind the clouds. “See you at dinner, Elain,” he tossed over his shoulder with ease, sounding so pleased with himself that Elain just stood in the bright sun, shocked entirely into silence.

+++

Taking a bath hadn’t helped matters at all, and by the time she emerged, the sun was already sinking low beneath the horizon. She’d joined for cards and drinks most nights since the first, going straight into the living room with them after dinner though not imbibing quite as intensely. Still, after today, she was looking forward to it. 

Elain was pleasantly surprised to find things weren’t awkward with Lucien at all, and the conversation seemed mostly driven by Vassa asking about Summer Court. Elain listened with rapt attention, absorbing all the details that he shared about the beaches, the palace, and the architecture. As the drinks flowed, Elain consuming far more than she’d planned, his stories got more animated and detailed, and Elain thought she might be able to listen to him talk for hours. 

She’d never noticed how much he spoke with his hands, his expressions carrying the rest of his story. He was so into sharing the experience that his joy and excitement bubbled over and carried straight into Elain’s own veins. She distantly wondered through the pleasant haze of the alcohol if she could, in some way, actually be feeling those emotions of his through their unfinished bond. She knew so embarrassingly little about mating bonds–never wanting to ask him or her sisters for fear of giving anyone false hope. But now, now , she lamented knowing almost nothing about how they worked. She wasn’t sure when it had started feeling less like a confusing burden and more like a precious gift, but here in the firelight, watching Lucien speak amongst his friends, that golden cord vibrating in her chest, she finally admitted it to herself. Elain was a goner for Lucien. 

Even through the blurry thrall of alcohol, Elain knew it was time for her to make decisions. She couldn’t keep doing this to him–couldn’t keep doing this to herself, either. 

Her world tilted a bit as she stared at him, the urge to touch him so strangely strong in this moment. The dreams hadn’t been his, but hers. She’d wanted him so much that she’d dreamed of the things she wouldn’t let herself have, and she’d dragged him into those dreams with her. Not that he seemed like he minded, but Elain wasn’t sure whether to be more embarrassed or aroused at the thought. Her mind spun–she needed air.

She excused herself quietly, walking through the kitchen and out past the faelights into the courtyard, stealing deep breaths and sitting down on one of the stone benches. The stars were just as bright tonight, not a cloud in the sky. In moments like this, parts of her missed Velaris and her sisters. But still, she had no interest in leaving. She wanted to be here, and more than that, she wanted to be with Lucien. 

She could think of no more reasons to keep holding back. She wanted this–wanted him–so badly, and she couldn’t spend the rest of her life making herself miserable for nothing. She would tell him when they returned from Summer, and the rest would be up to him and fate.

As though the decision had been heard by the bond in her chest, it settled into a gentle, soothing hum as she closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the wall behind her.

She heard the door open and close beside her, assuming Lucien had come to find her. But as soon as the scent of pine and cedar hit her, she knew it was Jurian who had come outside. He sat beside her on the bench, and she turned her head and cracked a single eye open, the world spinning slightly.

“You alright?” he asked, oddly sincere compared to his normal gruff and teasing tone.

“I think I drank too much.” Elain was interrupted by a hiccup, pressing her fingers to her mouth to suppress the giggle that bubbled up.

He laughed, leaning his head back too and looking up.

Elain hadn’t spoken much to Jurian one-on-one, but she didn’t hold any bad feelings. Since becoming fae, she’d spent so many moments learning that the world wasn’t split into good and bad, black and white. Jurian was not the villain in her story any more than Feyre or Rhys or Lucien was. In fact, Jurian was one of only two people who might truly understand the way that Elain felt. She certainly had never spoken to Nesta about it. The alcohol in her veins made her bold.

“Do you ever dream of the Cauldron?” She didn’t look at him again, and the quiet stretched so long that she wondered if he wouldn’t respond at all.

“Not as much anymore, with Vassa here, but sometimes.” She nodded at his somber response. If nothing else, the way he loved Vassa would convince her that he wasn’t a bad person. “You?”

“No. Not so much. She talks to me, sometimes.” Not for the first time, Elain wondered if she’d said too much about her powers. She’d withheld from telling her family that the Cauldron spoke to her in her visions sometimes, knowing the look she’d receive–that endless concern like a single touch might shatter her into pieces that would never fit back together again. 

Instead, Jurian just hummed beside her. 

“I went in willingly. Well, as willingly as I could. I wanted my life back–or for it to be gone completely. I couldn’t live the way I had been anymore. I figured if it didn’t work, at least I would be free.” 

Elain couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through, and for centuries. 

“I never apologized to you, Elain. And I should have. Long before you came here, I should have.”

She supposed he hadn’t, but after everything, she hadn’t really blamed him. He’d been on their side, or at least not on Hybern’s. The words were still nice to hear. At one point, she would have held it against him, but things were different now. Without being Made, she would be living such a different life. And now, after everything, Elain was certain the life that had awaited her as a human wouldn’t have made her happy.

“We were all just trying to survive, Jurian. I don’t hold it against you. But I appreciate it.”

After more quiet, Elain’s head pleasantly swimming behind closed eyes, Jurian spoke again. “I still feel like I ruined your life.” At that, she did turn to look at him, his eyes fixed on her and filled with unmistakable regret. “I’m happy now–happy here with Vassa–and so often I feel I don’t deserve it for all the things I’ve done.”

Had this guilt been eating him alive?

“Jurian, you and I both know it isn’t that simple. I forgive you. There is nothing to feel undeserving about in regards to me.” And she was somewhat surprised to find how vehemently she meant it. “We were both put into the Cauldron, and we’ve both made mistakes.”

“Yes, but you were good before–wholly good. I was already well on my way to becoming a monster.” There was a self-hatred in Jurian’s somewhat slurred words that she’d never heard before. 

“You’re no monster,” she replied, and he scoffed but said nothing else.

“When we were poor, I never helped Feyre. Not once. I should have, and I didn’t. And then, I let Nesta take all the blame for it after.” The words tumbled from her, words she’d never spoken aloud and never intended to. “No one expected anything of me, so no one blamed me. And I knew that, and I still let them. Your crimes were committed during a war against enemies. You committed them fighting for a cause. My crimes were against my sisters, my own blood, and I committed them simply because I didn’t know how to be useful and I didn’t care to learn.”

Jurian’s eyes hadn’t left hers as she spoke, and she could feel her own welling with sharp tears. 

“I made those choices, and still no one blames me except myself. I will carry that guilt with me forever. So if anyone is a monster here, it’s me. I don’t know why I did it.” She swiped roughly at a tear that had rolled down her cheek. “I worry sometimes that I don’t deserve happiness either. That my punishment is the other shoe just waiting to drop. I have denied myself so much for so long because of it, and it made me miserable. So I am telling you that I forgive you, Jurian. You’ve suffered enough–don’t punish yourself, too.”

Jurian was silent, and she pretended not to see the silver in his own eyes and she shut hers and leaned her head back again. She felt shaky after her confessions in the dark, but she also felt strangely lighter.

She spoke again while the adrenaline still coursed through her, needing to say the words out loud to someone. “These weeks here have been the best I can remember since, well, ever. Even before, I don’t think I was happy.”

This time, Jurian wasn’t silent. “You can stay as long as you want, Elain. We like having you here.” He cleared his throat. “It’s not because of what you can do or out of any obligation to Night. It’s not even just because of Lucien, though perhaps you're not the only one who's been markedly happier the last few weeks. We just like having you here. We like you.”

She couldn’t answer, just reached down and found his hand, squeezing it in hers. He squeezed back, his palm warm and calloused, but missing the way that her skin sizzled when it was Lucien’s hand in hers. 

Still, the two sat in the quiet, a peace over them both that they hadn’t come searching for tonight but had gotten anyway. 

Chapter Text

Elain woke with the daylight, the alcohol from the night before keeping her from sleeping any longer. The long stretch felt good against her stiff body, and the sheets were soft against her skin. Strangely, she hadn’t dreamed at all last night. She flushed again at the thought, glad that things hadn’t felt as tense as they could have last night after Lucien’s admission during training.

Every time his lips had been on her skin, every time he ran his hands over her body, touching her just the way she wanted—those had been her dreams. She’d always thought he’d been dreaming and the bond had pulled her along, but she’d been wrong–about the origin, at least. She’d been dreaming of him, summoning him somehow with that golden thread tying them to each other. And, ever the willing participant to take whatever Elain was willing to give without complaint, Lucien had eagerly joined her. 

She supposed there were many, many things to unpack about this, but truthfully, Elain was almost relieved it had come up. The weight of looking at each other without her knowing whether he experienced the dreams she did was gone. He was in it, she was too, and that was that. Still, she wondered how they would handle it the next time she woke up tangled in sweaty sheets alone. How was she going to look him in the eye after?

She rose from the bed and dressed, grabbing the small bag she’d packed and toting it downstairs with her. Lucien was already in the kitchen with Vassa and Jurian around the table, Jurian looking a little worse for wear. Elain slid in, her tea already set out and still steaming. She looked to Lucien who just smiled knowingly and looked away. Elain fought the blush again. How could he manage this with no words at all?

“How long do you think the two of you will be gone?” Vassa asked, sipping on her tea as she buttered her toast. 

“Too loud,” Jurian groaned, his head buried in his hands.

“You could have stopped drinking any time last night, my love. You’d think after centuries you might know your limits.” There was nothing but teasing and affection in the words, and without lifting his head, Jurian managed to bump his leg into Vassa’s, who just giggled in response, rubbing a hand down his back in comfort.

“I think probably a week, maybe less. Depends on how quickly we do or don’t find what we’re looking for,” Lucien answered. “Plus, Elain’s never been to Summer. I want to take some time to show her some of the places there.” 

Elain felt her cheeks flush at the admission. It felt strangely intimate, surprisingly bold, and she was pleased with how much she liked it. She couldn’t wait to explore Summer–to explore everywhere in Prythian. She’d done so painfully little since she’d come into this new life, seen so few of the beautiful things her new home had to offer. Elain was excited to explore all the things available to her now.

After eating and saying their goodbyes, Lucien walked out into the softly effused purple of the rising morning sun. He looked perfect there, the light framing him making him appear almost ethereal as he held out his hand for her to take. 

“Ready?” he asked softly, the words tentative. She could feel him down the bond, his emotions more easily flowing into her at this proximity. He wanted this to go well.

She smiled and took his hand without hesitation. “Ready.”

The winnowing with Lucien was so unlike it was with anyone else. The strange, shapeless pressure around them was warm, welcoming almost, as their fingers twined together in the darkness. This winnow was soft, gentle–it had been that way before, even when Lucien was upset. There was no harsh tossing of her body, no accompanying nausea or dizziness. She thought she might actually like winnowing with Lucien, and his hand in hers when they landed left her heart flitting like a hummingbird against her ribs.

She could feel the air around them, heavy and humid against her skin. She was glad she’d packed lighter dresses, but she wasn’t sure even they would be light enough in this climate. The sun was bright already here, glittering off the surface of the water around them as she realized they were standing on a bridge made of white, craggy material.

“Oyster tabby,” Lucien provided. “Most structures here have some variation of it.” She ran her hand across it, feeling the shells beneath her fingers. 

“It’s very pretty.” And it was, just like the rest of the court that she could see. The buildings raised as though from the sea, sloping up an endless hill that led to the massive expanse of the palace above them. 

On one side of them, as far as the eye could see, the turquoise sea was so bright that it almost hurt to look at. Around the water’s edge were beaches of the whitest sand Elain could imagine. She had never seen water like this–never seen a beach at all except in books–and even through the oppressive heat, the sight took her breath away. Out in the harbor, boats of all shapes and sizes bobbed lazily in the slow rolling waves. The shore curved to hug the bay of ships, the distant trees of the half-moon cove marking the edges where the water opened out into rougher seas. Here on the small bridge, a breeze bustled over them valiantly, even though Elain could already feel the sweat pooling on her back.

All the buildings that rose up from the sea were composed of either that oyster tabby or a smoother, glimmering white substance–maybe pearl or coral or stone. Under the sun, they glittered like the wings of a butterfly, the turrets and spires sparkling up nearly into the sparse, puffy clouds above. 

Lucien offered his hand to Elain, and she accepted it easily, eyes still wide as she took in the surroundings and he led her towards the palace proper. There were so many sounds and smells, the food vendors yelling their wares and the smells of Summer Court delicacies surrounding her. She made a mental note to ask Lucien to bring her back here once they were done researching, her mouth watering as she smelled rich spices and cooked meats.  

Eventually, they climbed a final rise of stairs, the shade from the roofs above suddenly cool and well-appreciated on her skin. She could already see where her freckles had begun to darken in the sun, but she didn’t mind it. Upon rising over the last set of stairs, they stopped on a platform in front of four people. Elain recognized Tarquin from her short time spent near the front lines of the war, as well as from subsequent meetings and Starfall. His dark skin was set off by the bright silver of his hair, the cerulean blue of his eyes. His face lit with a bright smile as he stepped forward to Lucien.

“Ah, Emissary. It’s good to see you again.” The two shook hands, then pulled in for an embrace, clapping the other on the back. 

“Surprised you can see anything at all here with how bright the sun shines. Say, High Lord, has anyone ever told you of the delight of canopies? I’m sure if you visited Day–” Tarquin shoved at Lucien’s shoulder, who laughed and dodged. Elain was astonished to see this light behavior between the two, especially with one in such a high position. It seemed Lucien’s behavior in the human lands wasn’t what was out of the ordinary. Instead, it had been his behavior in Night that was the outlier. It sent a pang of aching through her. How much he’d staunched his own joy and light to fit into the court that had harbored her–how much he’d pulled himself back into something he thought she might find palatable.

Elain was interrupted by her thoughts by the approach of two women. One with hair so bright it looked like the sand on the beaches outside took her hand and squeezed, the warmest smile in her green eyes.

“Elain, I presume?” Her smile was kind in a way that set Elain entirely at ease as she nodded. “I’m Islara, High Lady of Summer.” Elain had woefully neglected her knowledge of each court in Prythian–she had no idea Tarquin had even married. 

“It’s so lovely to meet you, High Lady.” Elain dipped in a curtsy, but Islara tugged at her hand. 

“None of that now. It’s an honor to have you here as guests.” Her smile sparkled as Tarquin stepped towards her, hand finding her waist.

“And lovely to see you in the position you deserve, Islara,” Lucien grinned. “It was about time.”

Tarquin shot him a look, but before he could respond, the other female stepped forward, embracing Lucien, then stepping back. Elain tried to staunch whatever abrupt and violent jealousy was building in her stomach against her will at the touch. 

“Speaking of things taking their sweet time,” she shot a look at Elain. Lucien flushed bright red, and the woman smiled, not unkindly. “Perhaps the sights of Summer will be inspiring. Yaraj and I certainly have some romantic suggestions.” Elain ignored the dig ather in favor of the relief at seeing the beautiful female take the hand of the fourth member of their group. She couldn’t determine whether they were male or female, and their skin glowed almost blue under the natural light streaming in from outside. They grinned with amusement as they took the female’s hand in theirs. 

“Ah, Cresseida. Never one to mince words. Lovely to see you again.” Lucien smiled. “Yaraj, a delight as always.” Yaraj and Cresseida both grinned wickedly and nodded to Lucien.

“As always, my deepest apologies. My cousin was raised on a barge, and not the royal kind,” Tarquin added. Cresseida elbowed him in the ribs and they all laughed. Elain, despite the words from Cresseida, found herself unable to stop smiling at the exchanges happening in front of her.

Cresseida spoke again. “We’ve situated you both in the same suite for your visit, separate rooms, of course.” She shot a suggestive and pointed look at them both. 

Appreciate your kindness, and your subtlety, dear Cresseida,” Lucien added easily, humor in his voice that dissipated any remaining tension Elain might have had.

“Follow me, and we’ll get you settled in.” She turned to walk down the glowing stone halls, the gulls crying high above and the sounds of the waves filtering in around them. Tarquin leaned in to Elain and Lucien as they walked.

“Welcome to Adriata,” he said with a laugh.

+++ 

Their suite was absolutely enormous, a sitting room big enough to support at least twelve and an accompanying six rooms to boot. Elain had chosen one that overlooked the beach, the gentle waves lapping at the shore in the background. 

She’d stared at them until the moon was high over the water, sleep evading her entirely after they returned to their rooms from dinner hours ago. She was struggling to adjust back to a normal sleeping schedule that wasn’t wholly nocturnal. Part of her had been tempted to find Lucien, seek him out and maybe see if he was having trouble sleeping, too.

She didn’t feel him strongly through the bond, so she assumed he was long asleep, as she should be. Her stomach rumbled, and she set her sights on finding something to eat instead. Her feet were feathersoft on the lush, carpeted floors as she opened her door and crept into the living space. The walls were open wide to the beachfront, though they were many stories up in the palace. The moon was so bright in this space, light pouring through the openings of stone onto the couches, chairs, and tables. Tarquin had sent them plates of dried fruits and meats and breads, flagons of wines and cool citrus water, and Elain saw them all still on the table with relief. She crept across the floor, already deciding she’d grab a plate then resume her tossing and turning in her own room.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” The low, rumbling voice had Elain jumping nearly from her skin, the shriek on her lips before she could clamp them shut.

“Gods above , Lucien.” Her hand found her heart, the thudding of it thunderous under her fingertips. Lucien was sitting on one of the couches, turned at such an angle she hadn’t seen him on her approach. His head was tipped back as he laughed, his whole body shaking with it.

“I’m so sorry, Elain,” he said through tears of laughter. “I thought you’d seen me. That’s the second time I’ve managed to sneak up on you. Maybe we need to work on that in your training.” He swiped his fingers under his eyes as he grinned up at her, sharp teeth glittering in the moonlight.

Once she caught her breath, she lowered herself to the couch near where his feet had been as he raised himself to sitting. She grabbed a plate and began to load it with fruit.

“Nightmares?” he asked, stretching his arms high above his head. Elain’s gaze wandered to the golden patch of skin the action exposed across his stomach, and her pulse raced.

“Oh, no. I was restless, then my stomach decided if I was going to be awake, it might as well be, too.” She pulled a stem of grapes and some cheese onto her plate, popping a green one into her mouth and chewing. “What about you?”

“Too used to being awake at night, I fear,” he responded, grabbing a small plate of his own. “I don’t sleep very well to begin with. It’s been a long time since I have.”

“All those dreams?” she asked coyly, her eyes widening as she realized the implications of what she’d said. But Lucien just grinned at her, plucking a grape with his teeth, eyes never leaving hers.

“I don’t mind the dreams one bit.” His smile was full of mischief, and Elain felt the blush creep all the way to the tips of her ears.

He was beautiful in the moonlight–he was beautiful everywhere–his hair shining, smile glinting and just for her. Her eyes flicked just for a moment to his lips as she realized how close they were sitting on the couch, thighs nearly touching. She had the passing thought that it would be so simple to close the gap, so easy to press her lips to his and see if they were truly as soft as they looked. She felt his breath on her face, the tang of the grapes they’d both eaten swimming around them. She wanted to see if it tasted different on his lips.

She’d been in this same situation once before with Azriel, their lips almost touching in the dark, the want palpable between them. He’d called her a mistake.

The words rang like alarm bells in Elain’s mind, and she pulled back. If Lucien called her a mistake, she might never recover. Even so, she had the stark thought at seeing the disappointment flash through his face that Lucien wasn’t anything like Azriel. He was bright, he gave her the sun, even when the only light shining came from the moon.

She needs fresh air. Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden.

The memory coursed up from somewhere hazy in her mind. He’d always been caring for her, long before he’d known her at all. He had been waiting and patient and kind then, and he was doing the same even now. He was always rising to meet her challenge–he always had been–never setting expectations, but allowing her to show him who she wanted to be. Elain knew with stunning clarity that Lucien would wait until she told him not to, his patience and devotion to her only able to be stopped by the endless respect he had for her wishes.

She knew, here in the darkness, nothing but honest clarity and respect reflected on his face, that she wouldn’t make him wait much longer. She was tired of waiting, tired of remembering, tired of pushing away the things she wanted but didn’t feel she deserved. She was tired of planning around future pains, around worries that may never come to pass. Elain wanted to pursue joy.

She popped another grape in her mouth, relaxing back onto the plush couch and twining her fingers through Lucien’s beside her. He didn’t hesitate a second, his palm hot against hers, the comfort seeping into the very marrow of her. There was a long road ahead, but under the blinking stars, sinking back into the cushions of the couch and feeling him at her side…this felt like the beginning of something new and good. 

+++

The libraries of Summer were enchanted. Not like Elain might have once considered an enchanted library to look, but literally enchanted to keep the humidity from wrecking the books and scrolls and prophecies stored there. 

Still, the massive area gave the illusion of wide open windows, a magical crossbreeze still flowing across the space where they sat to keep them cool. The natural light covered everything with a beautiful glow, perfect to read in the day without any additional lights. Lucien and Elain had spent the past three days at these tables, their various research spread out in front of them. They’d spent every moment they weren’t in the library exploring the city. Elain had eaten so much seafood that she wasn’t sure how she’d live without it now. Lucien had promised her that he’d take her to Day, as well, as he’d told her about all his favorite foods at the various courts of Prythian.

Nothing else had happened since their near-kiss the other night, and they hadn’t mentioned it. But sometimes, in the library and in the city, she’d feel Lucien looking at her. There was always a small flare in the bond, a bright zip of something like adoration in her chest. When she’d look up, his eyes would be on her. The tension between them felt almost pleasant, more like a promise of things to come than the line pulled taut with anxious worry and unsurety. She’d already begun to wonder how she might move things forward when they’d returned home–already started thinking of ways she might tell him that, if he still wanted her, then she was his.

It wouldn’t be long left in Summer now. They’d covered a ridiculous amount of ground so far, but still hadn’t found quite what they were looking for. Even so, Elain and Lucien had pages of scrawled notes, some detailing further places they might find what they were looking for, others with ideas hastily scratched out. They’d had a few false leads, one they’d been almost certain had been what they were searching for. But it had unraveled quickly as they located the partial prophecy, only adding two more lines to the ones on the sheet of parchment Elain had brought with her. 

Heart of gold 

Heir of light 

Soul of fire 

Cauldron’s delight 

Twice the vision

Yet not the right 

Hands of life

But borne of force

Heal the rift 

And stay the course 

The darkness within us

Corrupt and descend

It seemed fairly clear to Elain there were at least four stanzas of four lines apiece, meaning, at minimum, they were still missing four lines. Alone, she wasn’t sure what they had was enough to mean much of anything. Riddles were tricky beasts, and though the two had note upon note scrawled within the margins, they weren’t much closer than they had been when they’d started.

“Cauldron’s delight…I hate to ask, but does that mean anything to you?” Lucien asked, and Elain shot him a look. He lifted his palms in feigned innocence. “I’m sorry! It’s just…didn’t you say that she–it?--talks to you in your visions?” They were at one of the long tables currently, chairs pushed close enough for their thighs to touch just often enough to shoot sparks through her at each contact. They were both wonderful at wordlessly pretending that they’d need to be as close as possible to do the necessary research.

“She doesn’t exactly answer my questions. She just tells me when to do things,” Elain admitted.

“Have you ever tried asking anything?” 

Elain supposed she hadn’t– it wasn’t something she’d ever considered. In the moment, her visions were so fast and violent that even the vivid ones were gone and over before she ever understood what was happening. 

“It’s always moving so quickly, I’d never thought to. I suppose I could try next time. I just don’t see why she wouldn’t give me the whole prophecy in the first place.”

“Maybe she can’t.” Another good point–perhaps the Cauldron’s knowledge was limited to only what she could push Elain to find herself. 

“Does any of this mean anything to you?” They pored over the document together for what felt like the millionth time. 

“Nothing certain. But, twice the vision, yet not the right –do you think that could be about you?” Lucien asked, his brow lifting at Elain as he did. “The visions seem a little on the nose. Maybe it’s saying something is wrong with your visions? Have they all been coming true?”

“Not all, but it isn’t necessarily linear.” But something was running through Elain’s mind–something his question had spurred in her. There was one vision of hers that had never come to pass.

“Elain?” She snapped her eyes back to him, concern filling them as he looked at her face. “You okay?”

“Yes, just thinking. I suppose the next best step is to seek the other known Seers.” Another boon of their research was finding the location of two known Seers other than Elain, one in Spring and one in Dawn. The bad news, however, was that they notoriously and understandably stayed hidden, keeping themselves mostly out of record and out of the public eye so as not to tempt others to use them for their talents. Elain understood entirely.

Still, there was enough from what they’d cobbled together from various resources that they had a fairly good idea where both might be within their courts. Elain so wanted to find others like herself, and not just for this prophecy. She had so many questions about the way her magic worked, and the answers were rarely written down. If she could just spend a few minutes with one or both of them…

“We can look for both as soon as we leave here, if you want,” Lucien offered. On the table, their hands sat close enough to touch. All it would take was one twitch of a finger and they’d be touching. Elain was especially aware of every part of him at all times, how close he was, the urge to touch him always overwhelming her while that dual heartbeat pounded away in her chest.

“You wouldn’t mind?” She hated to feel like she was keeping him from his life, but she also wasn’t entirely sure where to start.

“Not at all. In fact, it’s been a long time since I’ve had the time and reason to travel around the courts for pleasure.” His words were totally innocuous, but the word pleasure on his tongue had Elain’s body reacting against her will, her thighs pressing together suddenly. She directed the topic elsewhere and pretended she couldn’t see the wicked smile on the sly fox’s lips. 

“Well, if you’re sure, I think that would be the best way to find out more. We have what we can get about their locations, but I don’t know the courts nearly well enough to find them once I get there.” 

“Then to Dawn and Spring we shall go, my lady.” Lucien tapped the back of her hand gently, then settled his hand back on the table, their pinky fingers touching now. She knew it had been intentional. She liked it.

She’d woken up on the couch three mornings ago, gentle light streaming through the windows and her head resting on his shoulder–their hands still intertwined. His head had been tilted to lean on hers, their bodies twisted inwards towards each other in sleep. After staying perfectly still and savoring the feeling for a few minutes longer than was safe, she’d removed herself as slowly and quietly as possible, slipping a pillow beneath Lucien’s head and wishing she was still there, perhaps wrapped in his arms, instead. She hadn’t regretted the night before at all. In fact, even on the couch sitting up, she’d slept better than she could remember in months. All day, she’d smelled whiffs of him on her skin, that smoky cinnamon circling around her when she least expected it.

She’d been too nervous the last two nights to seek him out again, though it was all she thought about as she lay sleepless in the bed. He was so close, she’d almost swear she could hear his thoughts against the beating of his heart with hers. Perhaps tonight, she might wander out for another midnight snack before they departed in the morning.

Now, as Lucien sat beside her, shuffling and organizing all their documents and stacking their books, she couldn’t help but think that something vital had shifted. Months ago, she couldn’t have imagined this moment of comfort–this casual intimacy–with him. She wouldn’t have dared to dream it. But here, they were sitting peacefully together, working on something that had meaning for her. He’d joined her cause without question, helped without being asked. Lucien listened to every idea she had and followed it through, making sure that she always felt heard.

If she hadn’t already made the decision, it would be an easy one now. Perhaps she should make an event of it once they were back at the manor. She could enlist Vassa’s help and make it special– the sort of courting and care that Lucien deserved to receive. She smiled at the thought, faelights and quiet and just the two of them when she told him she wanted this, explained why she’d waited so long. Yes, once the two of them returned from Summer, she would make clear that, if he’d still have her, she wanted him wholly–consequences be damned.

He turned in that moment, his russet eye catching hers and a smile spreading slowly across his face as though he’d caught her in the act of something.

“What’s got you smiling so widely, hmm?” She loved how his eye glinted, the gentle whirring of his enchanted one beside it. In the bright light of Summer, his hair was a liquid wave of flame, falling almost like water over his shoulder like something so otherworldly and beautiful that Elain wondered how it might be real. Her mate was the most beautiful male she’d ever seen.

My mate.

The words echoed in her head as she shook it, smiling more broadly back at him. He was so lovely, she thought as she looked at his lips, her body leaning forward before her mind caught up. Her eyes found his, the want and surprise in them enough to have her breath catching in her throat. The bond decided for her that this wasn’t going to wait until they returned home, and Elain didn’t fight it, leaning in and noting the feeling of his hand now brushing gently against her jaw. 

This . This was how it was supposed to be.

Just as their lips barely grazed each other, the world lurched beneath them.

Elain didn’t have time to react before Lucien’s arms were entirely around her, wrapping her up tightly as he positioned his body over hers. She opened her eyes to see massive rocks from the tabby ceiling tumbling down around them, cracking and shattering into dust upon impact. The ground shuddered violently again, the distant screaming of the people in the city below crescendoing as a great roaring began. Elain shrieked as a huge piece of the wall fell beside them and Lucien pulled her closer.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. Stay close.” His voice was strong, but he sounded as worried as Elain felt, her body shaking in the chaos around them. It wasn’t improving as the screams from the citizens of Summer rose and the floor shook again. A great crack sounded, and Elain felt more than saw the moment Lucien’s head snapped up. She followed just in time to see the largest beam of the ceiling directly above them collapsing. She watched as the piece split off, careening down toward them. It would hit them, kill them, before they’d even begun. Why had she waited so long? The roaring grew deafening as she thought of Lucien, of what they’d miss out on together–regret washing over her despite the chaos. 

Anything, she’d do anything for another chance.

Please, please, please.

Elain closed her eyes, and all the sounds stopped.

Distantly, she wondered if she’d died–if this absolute nothingness and absence of sound was what waited for fae after their immortal lives ended. But she could hear Lucien’s breathing with her own; she could hear his heart next to hers, still beating strongly together. 

She cracked her eyes open, nothing but bright sun and white dust to be seen. Blinking hard against the light, her eyes adjusted slowly, Lucien’s arm loosening slightly against her back. His other hand was flung up high above them, his fingertips crackling with something that almost looked like flickering faelights. With her vision adjusted, the ceiling of the library was almost entirely gone, a massive hole where the roof had been, letting in the blue sky and daylight. The collapsed tabby had fallen all around them, kicking up white sand and dust around them as they held each other. But surrounding them was a perfect circle where nothing had reached. 

It was then Elain realized the flickering light at the end of Lucien’s fingers extended around them, encasing them in something that almost looked like a snowglobe. If she focused, she could see the near-translucent white shimmer of it as it extended from him to the floor beneath them. In some places, it shimmered purple and gold, flecks of light ebbing and flowing as they breathed inside it.

“You shielded us.” Her voice was hoarse, and she coughed as her eyes met his.

“Not just me.” His words were awestruck, the reverence mirrored in his face as he looked down at her. His eyes flicked down to where Elain’s hands had clenched around the fabric of his shirt in the chaos. 

There, sparking at the tips of Elain’s fingers, were countless shimmering strips of purple and gold, pulsing rapidly in time with their hearts. 

Chapter Text

The attack on Summer had been devastating to Adriata. 

It was a concentrated hit, and one look at Tarquin in the aftermath told them that this was another siege of magic, draining not only from the land but from the High Lord himself. Lucien had helped where he could while Elain joined Islara and Cresseida in sending as many letters as possible for help from other courts. Cresseida’s correspondences reached to the outer realms of Summer to make sure nowhere else had been affected, and by the time the sun had crossed over the middle of the sky, it was clear that Adriata had been the only target.

“Is there anything else we can do to help?” Lucien asked as they stood, exhausted and dirty in the largest atrium of the palace.

“Thank you, friend. But you’ve done plenty already. Reinforcements will arrive tonight and in the morning. Helion and Thesan will be stopping in to help with wards and see if they can get a signature on the magic.”

“I let my sister know, and they offered help if you’ll have them,” Elain offered. They were the first she’d written to. They already knew about the surges and were still trying to get the other High Lords to agree to meet about them. Perhaps, with them happening more frequently and in larger areas, it would push the other courts into action. Despite it all, Tarquin raised a brow in amusement. 

“Let your sister and her mate know they are welcome back in Summer to help.” His smile was warm and kind, if tired, and Elain returned it. “And please know that you both are enthusiastically welcome in my court any time. Your home is mine.” He nodded before departing, Cresseida and Islara hugging them both before turning back to leave, too. 

“I expect updates next time!” Cresseida shouted over her shoulder. “Keep him in line, Elain!” Even bone tired, Elain couldn’t help but return her smile.

She was ready to return to the manor, her body exhausted but her mind spinning. They had work to do, Seers to find, and plans to make, but first, she wanted a bath and a warm meal. Lucien’s hand was soft in hers as he took their bags and winnowed them home, the soft rushing of the wind around them nearly a comfort as she pressed closer than she might have before. She wasn’t sure when she’d become so at ease winnowing, or if it was just Lucien’s presence at her side. She didn’t mind it at all, though, and when they touched down in front of the house, she felt almost hesitant to let go.

“Did you know that you could form a shield?” It was the first time that they’d been able to properly speak in the aftermath of the attack, both too busy helping to do much else other than check on each other. But all day through the chaos, she’d felt his stare on her, his concern and something that felt strangely like possession pressing down the bond, a shiver running down her spine each time it flared.

“No,” she answered. “I’ve never done anything even remotely like that before.” It was the truth. Her magic was a strange thing, almost entirely beyond her understanding and control. Any time she’d displayed any of the fae powers she’d been given, it had been a response she’d never been able to replicate.

“Do you think you could do it again?” he asked, curiously. 

“No,” she admitted. “I have no control over my powers. Even the visions, though they’re getting easier to have and recover from, aren’t something I can summon at will.” 

Lucien nodded. “I know we spoke about training your magic, and we haven’t yet.” She hadn’t wanted to press, but she’d thought about it more than once. “Would you still be interested in me helping you?”

“I would be interested.” The words were out quickly enough for Lucien to crack a smile, though exhaustion was still etched into the planes of his face.

“Perhaps we can start with winnowing tomorrow?” 

Elain almost thought she detected a tease in his words, but it was so fleeting she talked herself out of it. There was no possible way he could know about her experiences with it so far, and she had never managed it outside of that.

“That would be great, Lucien. Thank you.” He nodded again, pushing through the front doors and holding them open for Elain to pass through.

The house was empty–Vassa still gone for hours until sundown and a note on the table in the foyer from Jurian saying he’d needed to go to a nearby village for the day and to not worry about him for dinner.

“I’ll let you run a bath first while I take our bags. Is there anything you need, Elain?” Lucien asked. 

You.

She thought the answer automatically, he mind skipping back to the moment at the library only hours ago. Gods, it already felt like years. 

Instead, she pressed her lips together, shaking her head and ascending to the second floor. She took her time in the bath, the sandy dust washing off her skin in rivulets. Perhaps she could still salvage her plans and make them something to eat. It didn’t mean a mating bond acceptance, right? 

She’d heard him say there needed to be intent behind the offering of food, but was her intention to move their relationship forward enough to trigger it accidentally? Perhaps she could simply get some food from town and bring it back for them both to eat. He could serve himself, and they could talk after without the worry of setting anything in stone without both of them being fully on board and ready. That was the safer option until she knew for sure what Lucien wanted, though she hoped that he hadn’t changed his mind. Now that she’d made her decision, the bond thumped almost impatiently in her chest. 

She toweled herself off, dressing casually in trousers and a tunic Vassa had given her that she’d taken the time to embroider some small flowers on. Even just two months ago, she’d not have been caught dead wearing this outfit in the manor, let alone in public. But as Elain twirled in front of the mirror, she felt beautiful. Her damp curls were pretty on her shoulders, her eyes bright and cheeks rosy. She felt healthy, she felt strong. Elain felt–for perhaps the first time since she’d been changed–beautiful.

The trousers were looser but still fitted, the tunic enough to show her curves while retaining her modesty. The flowers she’d stitched into the collar and down the button row were colorful and eye-catching. She felt feminine in a way she’d never experienced before–she felt free in a way that seemed thoroughly honest.

Elain sent a quick parchment to Feyre, letting her know Tarquin had welcomed them in Summer. Then, she wrote another note for Lucien. She could hear the water running in Lucien’s room as she came into the hall, and she tacked the note to his door, letting him know she was going into the town to get dinner for them and would be back shortly. 

The weather was pleasantly warmer than it had been, Elain only throwing a light cloak over her shoulders as she traveled the path between the manor and the town. She brought a small bag with her, a container and two jugs to take the food back with her when she returned. She wondered what sorts of foods Lucien liked. If they did accept the bond, what foods would he prefer? She could make a feast, every course another dish he loved. She imagined with his love for spiced tea, he liked heavily spiced deserts as well. That seemed like something Autumn might have been big on.

Elain used the walk to the village to plan, ideas forming in her mind that she intended to ask him subtly about tonight. Perhaps, if she sent a message to Nesta, Gwyn could help her find a book about Autumn Court foods–not that either of them spent much time in the library anymore. 

The town became visible up ahead, the light through the trees turning golden as the sun started its late afternoon descent. The tavern on the other side of the village had amazing food most nights, and she wasn’t looking for anything exorbitant. She passed through the market, the sellers closing for the day, but managed to snag a few sweet treats from a baker’s stall before they packed up. They even threw in an additional box of cinnamon-swirled yeast rolls since Elain was their final customer. She thanked them and tipped them heavily, money no longer as much of an obstacle as it had been in a previous life. She liked to give where she could, especially to those who worked hard for their livelihoods.

With her basket in hand, she made her way into the tavern, placing her order for chicken stew and biscuits with the kind barmaid and handing her containers over. She accepted a glass of water, paying for the food and taking a small table toward the back of the tavern while she waited. It was interesting watching people in the town where she’d grown up. So many people she recognized, knew distantly, but almost none who recognized her. Her hair was down, her ears covered so as not to draw attention. Since the war, it wasn’t like the humans didn’t understand that fae existed, but it was still a point of contention. She wasn’t itching to walk around announcing her immortality.

The tavern was busy this afternoon, men and women alike singing bawdy songs and drinking. She smiled as she waited, letting her thoughts wander. She hadn’t been here across the wall for long, but she couldn’t imagine leaving now. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. It was more so that she couldn’t imagine a life where she didn’t see Vassa and Jurian every day–where she didn’t get to see Lucien. She’d wondered if coming back to the human lands would feel like coming home after feeling so out of place for so long in this new body, in Velaris. But it was becoming clear to her that home wasn’t quite what she’d once thought. The manor had changed, the village had changed, Elain had changed. Home was movable now–not so much a place, but the people in it. 

Truly, Elain could imagine herself anywhere and everywhere, as long as Lucien went with her. 

The trip to Summer, him tugging her excitedly around the markets and sights in between their research, had been the lightest she’d felt…maybe ever. He wanted to show her things, experience them with her. And all this without her having ever acted on the bond. How much better could it be when they’d accepted the golden tether that held them to each other? 

Elain used to wonder about the bond, especially in the early days. How could it possibly decide who would be a good match? Power? Bloodlines? What did it know of her and her sisters? Only recently turned fae–how could it know? 

But she understood the draw. She saw how Feyre bloomed around Rhys, growing into the leader she was always meant to be. She saw how Cassian gave Nesta the independence and control she desperately needed while still loving her tenderly enough to allow her to feel safe. Her sisters had been matched with people who loved them for exactly who they were, not something they wanted. Their mates made them better, and they returned the favor. 

With Lucien, she understood. The quiet days spent in the library and over breakfast, the nights spent training–bodies and words and breaths close under the stars. Even unattached, he had understood her, supported her, wanted her exactly how she was. 

She sighed dreamily at the table, thinking about what could lay ahead. The promise of it was the first time she’d felt real hope in ages. Elain was excited about something again; she was imagining a future.

Elain smelled him before she saw him, spine straightening in awareness as the scent of rot filled her nose.

“Fancy finding you here, at a tavern, no less.” His voice crept over her shoulder, slurring and shitty in the low light as Elain wound her hand around the handle of her basket. What was taking the food so long?

“Graysen. Wish I could say the same.” The bite in her words was intentional. She’d had a lot of time to think after her last meeting with him, and there were to be no niceties this time. 

“Ah, the little bird grows talons. Where was this back when I had you between my sheets? I might have liked a little enthusiasm.” She refused to look at him, but she could smell the liquor on his breath. The sun was still up–had the man turned to a drunkard since she’d left? His poor wife. She snorted.

He misinterpreted the sound. “That sound of interest to you, Lainey? You miss how we were?” She nearly shot off the seat when she felt his fingers on her waist, the stool she sat on rocking back with the flinch. 

“Take your hands off me. Now.” 

She could see him in the low lights of the tavern, though the step he took back was small. He raised his hands mockingly in surrender, tilting his head as he stepped closer. She stood, slipping onto the ground and grasping the basket tightly. Her eyes shot around him to the bar, wondering if anyone could see her over here, could see what was happening.

“No one would have to know, Lainey. You’re here, I’m here. Why shouldn’t we? It could be just like it was.” Elain was too busy looking around the tavern for the words to connect properly, her body stepping back again and her spine finding the table. Graysen took her silence as acquiesce, his hands fumbling but finding her hips.

She ripped herself back, the table knocking hard into the wall behind her as she glared at him. “I told you to take your hands off me.” 

But Graysen blinked slowly, a horrid grin taking over his face instead as he continued into her space. “Oh, I like this version of you much better.” Elain continued to rear back as Graysen leaned in, swaying but placing his face too close to her neck. “That fae beast seems to have brought out the best in you.” 

Rage. Nothing but rage flowed through her. 

Still, he thought he could have anything he wanted–thought he deserved her after it all. And to call Lucien a beast? Elain felt like something was crackling in her, some strange wave breaking, letting free a storm that couldn’t be undone. 

“Now what do you say you follow me behind this tavern and let me see that pretty cu–” The choking noise was more satisfying than Elain expected as her fist made violent contact with Graysen’s throat. He went flying back against the opposite wall, heaving and grasping at his neck as his eyes sprung wide and his face turned red. But the fury wasn’t abating, the anger in her rising still at the injustices this man had committed against her, continued to commit. She stepped forward, her arm already cocked back again, some strange feeling sparking at her fingertips. Graysen’s eyes widened as she took a single step, then Elain was doused with hot water. 

She sputtered, the water splashing into her eyes and momentarily blinding her as she wiped at her face.

“Elain? ” The voice was shocked and close, but it wasn’t Graysen’s. The light filtered in and things began to come into view. 

Elain was no longer in the tavern, no longer in front of her idiot ex-fiance. Elain was in a full bathtub, straddling her very wet, very naked mate. 

“Oh. Oh, gods.” She tried to stand, her slippered foot refusing to garner purchase and sliding against the tub beneath her, plunging her back into the water onto Lucien’s lap. “I’m sorry!” The more she scrambled, the more she slipped and sloshed, eventually giving up and simply covering her eyes. Her face and neck and ears were so red and hot she wondered if she might find them on fire if she reached up.

“Did you winnow here?” Lucien’s voice was incredulous, but filled with more amusement than anything else. She could hear that laughter she delighted in dancing across his words, but her mortification kept her from enjoying it.

“I don’t know!” she squeaked.

“Has this ever happened before?” he asked, and she realized with the slight movement that his hands had come to rest on her fully clothed hips beneath the water, steadying her. If the blush could grow higher, it would have.

“Ending up in your bath?” she responded, near hysterics.

“No, the winnowing. Elain, it’s okay.” His hands left her hips and she tried to fight the urge to whine at the disappointment until the wrapped gently around her wrists, moving her hands away.

He was beautiful, his entire chest on display in front of her, golden brown and corded in endless muscle, covered in drops of water.

She would not let her eyes wander. She would not .

“Yes.” The word was quiet, a breathless admittance. 

Lucien smiled crookedly, that teasing, knowing look he wore so well in his eyes.

“You’ve been in my apartment in Velaris.” Her stomach dropped, but his excited smile didn’t falter. “I knew I smelled you there. Thought I was going insane for a time.” He chuckled.

She didn’t confirm or deny his statement, choosing instead to look anywhere but at the body of the impossibly beautiful male beneath her. 

Here in the humid air of the bathing room, his smell was amplified, sticky and fusing to her own skin. Apples and cinnamon and spice clung heavily to her, and she inhaled as subtly as she could. 

“What do I smell like?” She suddenly needed to know. 

Beneath her, Lucien closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. The gesture was so abruptly intimate that Elain could feel her body reacting, the arousal climbing within her like a fire. If her legs hadn’t been straddling him, she’d have squeezed her thighs together. Could he tell by her scent?

She needed to get out of this bath before she never left it again.

“Like everything I love,” he whispered, his hands returning to her hips. 

She wondered if she leaned forward and bit his chest, how long they might stay her in this tub. Instead, Lucien’s hands gripped her hips tighter. Then, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly as though releasing a held breath, he shook his head so slightly she almost missed it. 

“Come, let me help you out. Close your eyes if you’d like to maintain your modesty.” The restraint in his own voice was so evident that it sent goosebumps over Elain’s damp skin. She had that effect on him–he wanted her just as badly.

But they were moving, and she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to open her own as he helped her to her feet. On solid ground again, she risked cracking an eye open, nearly disappointed to find him wrapping a towel around his waist, back turned to her, before offering her one for herself with a grin.

“Any time you’d like to join me in the bath under different circumstances, just let me know.” Elain’s blush fired up again, her face burning like the sun as she skittered out of Lucien’s bathroom and into her own room, something like absolute joy and the sound of his laughter echoing as though it were traveling down the bond itself.

+++

Elain had snuck dinner into her room that evening, eating alone before going to bed. She hadn’t necessarily intended to, but the second she’d hit the mattress with a full stomach, her eyes had closed, the events of the incredibly long day overtaking her with exhaustion.

Her dreams weren’t vivid, more splashes of color, light, and sound. She could feel Lucien close, the brush of his skin against hers, the echo of his laugh in her ears, but everything passed comfortably by, more feelings of warmth and joy than anything else.

When she blinked awake, long before sunrise, she could hear the sounds and smell the food from downstairs. The soft knocking on her door a few moments later after she’d pulled on clothes for the day surprised her, but she knew from the feeling in her chest who it was.

“Morning, Elain,” he greeted her with a smile. “I was just getting up and wondered if you wanted to go get breakfast with me. I thought we might train some winnowing today while everyone’s out and busy.”

Elain couldn’t help the smile that burst across her face. She’d been almost worried about the tension she thought she might find between them this morning, but there was a new lightness she hadn’t been expecting. She could see it in the way he leaned against the door frame, the lilt of his words, the grin on his face. She could feel it in her chest as the excitement of the bond bobbed and pulsed between them. It was almost as though finding herself in his bath had brought down an extra layer between them, past where they’d left off in Summer. 

“You want to teach me how to winnow?” she asked, more teasing than surprised.

“If my lady wishes,” he shot back, that grin sliding to the side into a wicked smirk. 

He wanted to play today, and Elain would gladly entertain. They had almost kissed in Summer, their lips all but colliding before the rush of magic had stopped them. She wasn’t exactly sure how to get back to that, back to the headspace that a week in the warmth of the beach had swirled them into. But, she assumed winnowing would involve close quarters, and that certainly wouldn’t hurt. She needed to figure out how to bring up that she wanted to try between them—she didn’t want it to just be because their bodies were telling them to. Lucien had waited so kindly, so patiently, and she would not deny him the words he wanted to hear. He deserved at least that.

“Then yes. Let’s eat, then practice.”

Vassa certainly noticed over breakfast that something had shifted between the two, her eyebrow raised in smug questioning as she made eye contact with Elain. In turn, Elain blushed, steering the conversation back to literally anything else any chance she could.

They’d filled Vassa and Jurian in on the latest surge of magic, though neither of them had felt it here. They also let them know of their plans going forward.

“Well, we hate to see you leave again, but I’m happy to know you’re getting closer to answers.” Vassa responded, finishing the last of her tea. 

“Do you think the prophecy you’re looking for has to do with the surges?” Jurian asked quietly.

Elain had been wondering the same herself, though she hadn’t said as much. “We haven’t made sense of enough yet to say, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” Elain looked at Lucien, whose brows had lowered in contemplation.

“Where will you go first?” Vassa asked.

Lucien spoke up. “I’ve sent letters to Thesan and Tamlin, though I don’t know if Tamlin will respond.” He looked at Elain, eyes soft but the anguish clear in them at the mention of his once-friend. “We may have to just go to Spring with no invitation.”

She nodded. From what she knew, Tamlin wasn’t in much of a state to accept or decline visitors.

“Let’s do Spring first. If it’s a dead end, we won’t need to linger. It’ll give Thesan time to respond.” She felt good about the decision, as though some unseen hand was guiding her in it. Lucien nodded, his fingers lightly twitching on the table top as though he’d wanted to grab her hand in his own and then changed his mind. Vassa hadn’t missed the movement either. 

“Spring is closer. Is there anything you need from us?” Jurian asked, his hand around Vassa and her body leaned into him. It was just about time for her departure, and as always, it made Elain’s heart hurt to see them part each day.

“No, we shouldn’t be gone long. Let’s say we’ll leave in a few days?” Lucien asked, his eyes finding Elain’s. She nodded. 

After saying their goodbyes, they spent the better part of the morning working on training, the sun crossing the sky brightly and the heat sinking down on them. It was uncharacteristically warm, and Elain could feel the sweat pooling on her back. 

She had struggled to understand Lucien’s explanations of winnowing, how to focus, fold over her presence then expand it again where she wanted to go. He’d been patient and kind, holding her hand in his as he winnowed her back and forth across the training area while talking her through each step.

“Winnowing is all about feeling where you want to be before you get there.For most fae, the first few times they winnow, there’s no control over it. Their bodies connect with the magic before their minds can catch up. That’s why most early winnows are accidental.”

Elain focused, tried to pry her mind away from the feel of Lucien’s warm hand pressed firmly against her lower back. “So, it’s just a matter of focusing on where you want to be?” 

“Yes, if you have the place in mind, or even a feeling of a place, that lets your magic guide you there.” Elain nodded, readying herself to try again, then pausing.

“What if I get lost?”

Lucien laughed. “You can’t get lost. You’ll wind up somewhere—no one gets stuck in between.” She released a breath at the reassurance. “Your magic is intrinsically on your side. It doesn’t want to lead you astray.’

She thought of all the times she’d managed to land in his apartment in times of high stress, the way she’d winnowed back to him yesterday when she’d been ready to explode on Graysen. Elain’s magic recognized Lucien as a safe place for her, his presence and comfort and scents giving her a sense of home and security. That was enough motivation for her to try again. 

She thought about the other side of the yard, visualized the chairs there, the pretty awning over the door to the hall. She closed her eyes and breathed, imagining every bit of detail she could, then thinking of where she stood folding in on itself and depositing her there. When she opened her eyes she hadn’t moved at all.

“Ugh, Lucien, it's useless.” She scrubbed a hand over her face.

“No, it’s not. It takes practice. What were you thinking of the other times it happened?” Her face flared in embarrassment.

“There’s no pattern. It happened the first time when I was…” She stopped. She wanted to word this carefully. “I was very upset. Other times, it’s happened while I was asleep. Once, it happened when I was at the market.” 

Lucien badly held in a laugh. 

“It’s not funny,” Elain whined.

“Not at all. But still, you know you can do it, it’s just a matter of motivation.” Elain supposed he was right, but she needed the right guidance for her magic. She flushed right from her chest to the tips of her ears when it occurred to her. Lucien didn’t waste a moment in noticing, which only deepened the flush, the feral grin on his face telling her he understood without her voicing her request.

He wasn’t about to let it go, though. “How can I help motivate you, dearest Elain?”

She mumbled. “Canyoupleasegostandbythetables?” 

“What was that, dove?” The teasing endearment only made the blush burn across her skin while she risked shooting a scowl at him, to which he only chuckled. “You’ll have to say it again. I would love to help however I can.”

She crossed her arms but asked again. “I said, Lucien, could you please go over by the tables?” His smile broadened.

“Of course, my lady. Anything to help.” And then, he had the audacity to shoot her a wink as he mock-bowed, moving across the yard gracefully. She was so frazzled by the time he reached the chairs, sitting back and spreading broad thighs while he tossed another winning smile at her, that she was certain there was no way she could do it now. Still, each time her body had done it for her, bringing her to Lucien when she’d needed him—even if he wasn’t there, even when she couldn’t admit it to herself. 

She closed her eyes and stretched her fingers, thinking of each time she’d done it before. The stress of the time with Azriel, where she’d thought how different things might be with Lucien. The dreams that had left her longing to be with him. The one time she’d fought with her sisters about her ambitions. The time she’d winnowed from the market, she’d just bought and bit into a spiced apple pastry that she’d thought had smelled so overwhelmingly like him she almost couldn’t take it. Each time, she’d sought a comfort she hadn’t allowed herself before, sun-drenched apples and warm pine needles in the sun, copper hair, the shining gaze of russet and gold, the quiet whirring as he took in each detail of her in turn.

Her mate.

The breath whooshed from her, her body colliding with something hard and the sound of wrought-iron scraping across stone beneath her. Her eyes shot open to find Lucien’s wide eyes staring into hers. She had fallen straight into his lap, her legs draped over his and her arms around his neck. Her breathing was hard, but his breathless laugh beneath her was filled with nothing but awe and joy.

“You did it! Elain, you winnowed.” She felt his thrill and happiness bubbling within her next to her own.

“I did it!” His smile was blinding, the pride in it so evident even without the bond.

“I knew you could. Come on, again.” He stood, holding her waist and righting her. By the end of a few more attempts, she could do it to anywhere Lucien stood in the yard. She was sweating and exhausted, but she could winnow. 

On the last one, Lucien went outside the manor walls, having her count to 200 before trying again as he winnowed himself further into the woods. When she successfully winnowed to him, he caught her in his arms again, her dismount still not quite elegant, but she’d managed it. Her laughs were excited with his hands around her back. 

She’d done it—she’d learned how to manage part of her powers. He’d helped her do it.

She stepped back from him, clearing her throat as he looked down at her, arms moving from her back to her shoulders as she pulled away. “What happened yesterday?”

“What?” Her brain was hazy as she blinked, her eyes still focused on him as she tried to think through what he’d asked her.

“What made you winnow yesterday? I never asked you.”

“I punched Graysen.” Lucien made a strangled noise that sounded so out of character that a laugh bubbled out of Elain. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle it.

“You what?”

The laugh was borderline hysterical as it poured out of her. She lifted her hand long enough to say “I punched him right in the neck.”

The look on Lucien’s face was incredulous, but filled with such a bright light of awe and adoration that Elain could feel it in her bones. 

“You punched Graysen in the neck?” he repeated, the shock morphing into a flare of amusement that danced across his face like fire in the night.

She nodded rapidly. She hadn’t given herself much time to think about it, about how great it had felt. “He propositioned me in the tavern while I was trying to get us dinner.” Lucien’s gaze darkened so rapidly that she wondered if she imagined the air around them cooling. “When he wouldn’t back off, I punched him in the throat, then I wound up in the bath with you.”

There was a stirring in her chest then, something bright like rage and fury mixed with something smooth and simmering–something like lust, something like adoration. He didn’t ask for any clarifying details, just ran his eyes over her as though searching for some invisible wound, then settled his gaze on hers.

“Let me take you somewhere tonight?”

Instead of wondering if she should, she simply responded “Where?”

“Somewhere I think you’d like. Do you trust me?”

Elain didn’t have to think to answer. 

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

The setting sun found Elain in the courtyard, dappled tangerine rays slipping behind the trees and effusing the air with a purpling golden dusk.

Jurian had asked for Lucien's help in town, and though they'd be back soon, Elain didn't like the idea of Vassa coming back to no one. Jurian was almost always there to greet her, but Elain wasn’t sure what their process was. She’d tried to think of everything, the tea platter set out beside her on the wrought-iron table. A hearty tea blend, sugar and honey, cream, some tea cookies as well as more savory biscuits. She’d added some fruit and dried meats she’d found, as well, and a tall pitcher of cool water beside it. 

She could see Vassa’s approach in the purple sky, the blaring orange wings of flame brightening the horizon then lighting the sky above her entirely as she crested over the darkening trees. She was a thing of beauty, though her shriek was a noise of deep pain that wrenched at Elain’s heart.

The transformation back to human was just as awe-inspiring as her change into a firebird, her limbs changing and twisting fluidly until she returned to her more familiar form. She looked exhausted momentarily as her shoulders and back adjusted to their full straightened position. Then she caught sight of Elain and the table of food.

“Oh, Elain. You didn’t have to do all this.”

Elain blushed, the heat coming to her cheeks, wondering suddenly if it seemed like too much. “I just didn’t want you to come back alone.”

The emotion in Vassa’s eyes was enough to tell Elain this had been the right move. Vassa had Lucien and Jurian, but perhaps she’d been longing for a female friend the same way Elain had.

“Come, come sit. Elain hustled to pull the other chair out for her, and Vassa glided into it, her body ragged with weariness.”

“Thank you for this, Elain. It’s so, so kind.”

“It’s nothing, truly. Lucien is taking me on a date tonight, and this was a great way to stop pacing around the manor.” She tried to inject some humor into the moment, and it worked, Vassa grinning as she took a piece of fruit.

“A date, hmmm? Seems we’ve missed quite a few chapters of your story while you were away in Summer.”

“Just a kiss. And I might have landed in his bath the other night after punching Greyson.” She murmured the last bit and Vassa tilted her head back and full on cackled. 

“Gods, do I need this story.”

The two munched on their snacks as Elain detailed everything for Vassa, basking in how good it felt to share with a friend. She could be transparent about things with Lucien to Vassa, and Vassa seemed to get it. There wasn’t the expectation she’d felt with her family, the wariness of giving her the wrong idea.

“Where are you two going?”

“It’s a surprise, apparently.”

“Well, Lucien is so thoughtful. I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.” Elain was sure she agreed. “Last summer solstice, for my birthday, Jurian wanted to do something sweet for me. He begged Lucien to help him. Jurian ended up taking me to an abandoned castle across the wall—Lucien winnowed us there. He said he wanted to make me feel like a queen for a night again.”

“Bunch of romantics, they are,” Elain teased, but the thought was so sweet it made her lungs clench. This was Lucien’s family. Could it be hers, too?

They were quiet for a beat, the sighing joy easy between them in the gentle quiet.

“Can I ask you something?” Elain asked.

“Of course. Anything.”

“Where do you go when you change? Back to the lake?” Elain had dreamed of it, had seen flash after flash of the dark, wet stone walls.

“No, he hasn't called me back. Mostly I just soar around the countryside. I’m not entirely in my own head when I change, but I’m present enough that I try to appreciate the views. Truthfully, I haven't felt him in ages.”

“Do you remember all that you see?”

“Most of it.” She nodded, as if thinking back. “I like flying out to the sea, and sometimes up to the mountains.” She got quiet for a moment, staring out across the trees. “But something is different—something has changed lately.”

“With your flying?”

“No.” She shook her head minutely. “With him. I think he’s going to call me back soon.” The words felt like an ice cold shock down Elain’s back.

“How can you know?”

“I can’t. It’s just…a feeling. My days here are numbered.” Vassa sounded so incredibly sad, reciting the words as though they were already fact. Elain reached out to touch her hand, Vassa’s curls bouncing as her head snapped to take in the gesture of kindness.

“No, don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth,” Vassa responded sadly. “Jurian doesn't like it either, but we’ve got to face it. Not talking about it isn’t going to keep it from happening, no matter how much I—” Her voice caught on a sob and she looked away. Elain was out of her seat in an instant, coming to embrace Vassa in her arms. When had she last hugged anyone outside of her family? A friend? Had she ever had just a friend?

“I don’t want to go back, Elain," she whispered. “He’s terrible.”

“What is he like?” Elain almost regretted asking, but she wondered if Vassa ever got to talk about this—if she ever felt like she could with anyone else.

“He’s awful—cold, but not to the touch. It’s like the air around you chills in his presence. You can never quite look at him—never quite see his true form. He blurs around the edges, and your eyes play tricks. I know his hair is dark, his eyes so deep that they have no true color. He feels…like an absence, a void.”

A shiver crept down Elain’s spine at the description—so visceral, yet lacking such physicality. She feared for her friend, too.

“The time I spent there, at his castle by the lake…You lose time, lose days. I have flashes, memories, of the others there. Swans on a lake, bars on a dungeon. He made me eat with him. Sometimes we all did. He carried an onyx box with him, shining and as fathomless as his eyes. At first I wondered if it might contain his soul—he took it everywhere with him as though he wanted to protect it.”

Elain recognized that description. She had seen that box in her mind, over and over again.

“I don’t want to go back, Elain.” Her voice was strained and hoarse.

“You know we will do anything we can to keep you safe, Vassa.” And she meant it. She cared for Vassa, just as she cared for Jurian. These were her friends. They’d let her in here, into their home and lives, and she felt like a part of something here. She truly would do anything to keep her friend safe.

Vassa took Elain’s hands back into hers and squeezed.

“I know. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Elain.” The words buoyed something in Elain’s chest, splitting her open and stitching her back together just as Vassa’s eyes blazed with something entirely different, a smile spreading across her face.

“Come on, let's get you ready for your date.”

+++

When Elain emerged from Vassa and Jurian’s room, she was dressed in a soft blush dress and with enough rouge on her cheeks to kill her mother once more.

Her curls were pinned back, her boots were tidy, but broken in. She felt comfortable, but she also felt beautiful . She’d never realized how many different ways there were to dress—to feel lovely and pretty and practical all in one. She’d once scoffed at how Feyre preferred to dress, but she understood it now. She might never don a pair of leathers daily, but she certainly wouldn’t shun the idea of trousers ever again either.

Lucien was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, leaned against the wall cavalierly and chatting with Jurian.

“Ta-daaaaa,” Vassa loudly exclaimed, framing Elain with her arms like a work of art. Elain tried not to shy away, giving a silly little curtsy while her face flamed. But when she lifted her eyes to take in Lucien’s face, it nearly took her breath away.

He was looking at her like she held the world in her hands. Like everything he’d ever wanted was right here, right in front of him. His lips parted, the corners quirking up in a wide smile.

“Beautiful.” She could see him mouth the word even from the stairs as she descended. If she hadn’t made up her mind before, she would have now. It seemed unfathomable she’d waited even this long. 

She reached the bottom of the stairs, and, ever the courtier, Lucien broke out from whatever spell he’d been under and stepped forward to take her hand.

“You look lovely, Elain.”

“Thank you, Lucien.” He smiled when her response was sweet and light, the excitement palpable in her voice.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, quieter now that they stood so close. She nodded enthusiastically.

“Alright, you two have fun.” Jurian’s booming voice right next to them nearly sent Elain jumping from her own skin. For a moment, she’d forgotten they weren’t alone, Jurian and Vassa standing right next to them beside the staircase, beaming manically.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Vassa said with a wink as Lucien sighed. He turned his eyes back to Elain, the stars re-emerging in them. 

“Shall we?” She put her hand in his without hesitation, allowing his warm palm and the winnow to take her breath away.

+++

Elain opened her eyes and had to blink a few times to take in all that she was seeing. It was nighttime, but the city they’d landed in glowed so brightly that you’d be hard pressed to find a single star in the sky. Somewhere distantly, she almost thought she could hear the sea.

The deep midnight blues of the sky were washed almost purple in the stunning lights reflecting from the city, the bright white buildings of polished stone reflecting the lanterns and fires and faelights so extravagantly that the entire air around the city in front of them held a sheen of gold around it. It was so warm that she was glad she’d dressed lightly, the heavy air brushing languidly against her skin.

Lucien took her hand in his, tugging it gently when her eyes pulled away from the sight ahead and back to his smiling face. “Welcome to the Day Court, Elain.”

Her feet followed his movements, and he slowed to make sure she could walk beside him. Her body filled with warmth as his hand found her lower back and stayed there, guiding her down the streets from where they’d landed and into the city below. 

“Lucien, it’s gorgeous.”

He gave her a grin. “It's gorgeous during the day too. Maybe we’ll have to plan a second date.”

She couldn’t help but return his smile. “Maybe we will.”

The sounds of revelry below rose in volume as they traveled closer, merriment and joy in the air. “You certainly are familiar with all the courts, aren't you?” she asked as they came upon what looked like the main street of the sloping city.

“Yes, but this one's always felt like another home to me.”

“And you wanted to show it to me?” Elain’s steps stuttered a bit, but Lucien’s hand held fast, not letting her fall.

“Of course I did.” 

The roads of stone laid out before them became well lit and loud as they approached, the smells of spiced foods and mulled wine sharp and lovely in her nose. One of her favorite things once she’d adjusted to this new body was the ability to truly smell everything she cooked and ate. There was a new depth to everything when you could pick  out each spice, know every flick of the wrist added another layer of taste to your food. She loved to go through the markets in Night, hand selecting the best foods based on smell. And the smells here were absolutely decadent.

They made a final turn, something that looked like a main street market absolutely filled with people despite the time of night. Elain was entranced, the music pumping in time with her heart. The humidity soaked across her skin, the sweat beading on her back feeling almost at home here as the scents and sounds took her in. Faelights were draped back and forth over the street, illuminating all those who congregated here. And there people—there were hundreds of people.

Everyone was in strips of cloth, loosely draped across shimmering skin. Some looked dark and beautiful the way most of the people in Summer did, others were glittering shades of the rainbow. One woman, dancing gracefully with her fae partner in the streets, has rose-tinted skin that led up into great white wings. Another, scooping what looked like powdered cakes into a bowl for a couple, was covered head to toe in blue scales, the coloring tapering to teal down what looked like a vast tail.

“This is incredible,” she whispered, almost out of her own body.

“It is,” she heard Lucien murmur back, much closer to her than she had anticipated. Goosebumps pebbled across her skin as she turned to him. His eyes were focused solely on her, and her breath caught, eyes dropping to his lips again.

“Would you like to get something to eat?” he asked, breaking some of the spell she’d been easily slipping into. Her stomach suddenly rumbled its approval. She smiled up at him.

“I’d love that.” 

Lucien and Elain traveled to stall after stall, each with more options than the last, until both their arms were piled high with different things to try. They laughed, nearly drunk with excitement by the time they went to find a table. Nearby, a large band was playing. It didn’t seem like a group that matched together, different people joining at times as they’d stood in the various lines. Instead, it seemed as though any and all artists were welcome to join, bringing their own instruments and voices to join in the merriment. It was like nothing Elain had ever seen, her eyes locked on the absolute joy and fervor with which the people played and danced and sang and clapped.

Lucien touched her hand once all the food was laid out, and all she could manage to say as she looked upon him, looking so strangely but perfectly at home in this new place, was “thank you so much for bringing me here. This is like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

Lucien beamed in response, the sun practically shining from the broadness of his smile. She loved that joy. She loved even more that she’d put it there,

They listened to the music, alternating between wild and folksy, from shanties to bar songs. They ate and ate, the best foods Elain had ever eaten in her life, hands down. And then, Lucien ventured back out to get them wine and desserts. When came back to the table, a pitcher in one hand and a plate in the other, Elain was delighted. The plate was made of what looked like hammered brass, shimmering like heat waves. The cake perched on top of it was towering, eight tiers by Elain’s count, and soaked in what looked like candied cherries that were layered around the base. The cream decorating the top was whipped high into stiff, yellow peaks, studded with sugared flower petals and pistachios, then dusted in what looked like gold. It was almost too pretty for Elain to ruin by eating it. Almost.

The first taste of it was enough for Elain to know it might be the best confection she’d ever eaten, her mouth watering and her mind wanting more. She was already trying to figure out how she might replicate the recipe on her own. Which stall had it come from?

When they’d finished, Lucien poured them both a deep red wine, slices of oranges and chunks of nectarine floating amongst cinnamon and jalapenos and berries. It, too, was like nothing Elain had ever experienced, hot but refreshing, spiced and spicy. When she lifted her eyes from the table in front of her, she found Lucien staring at her again.

“What?” she asked softly. “Is there something on my face?” She brushed her fingers around her mouth, wondering if she’d missed some of the cake. His expression softened further, his gaze looking at her in a way that left warmth settling in her stomach, that left her feeling calm, feeling bold .

He shook his head minutely, smiling and holding out a hand instead. “Dance with me, Elain?”

“Oh.” The word slipped from her lips quietly, but the excitement was already building. She loved to dance–she always had. Even though she’d had to dance the restrained forms expected of society women, she loved the moments she’d always snuck away from prying eyes. She loved the way the staff back at the manor had danced in the kitchens, the jogs they’d taught her when her father and sisters weren’t around. She took his hand.

Lucien spun her out to the floor where others were dancing, the music loud and beautiful in her ears. The sound had a pulse of its own–vibrant and alive, spilling from the side of the street where the musicians all performed together. The people around them danced, no regard for steps or rhythm, but simply feeling the music and letting their joy guide them. Lucien’s hand was hot in hers, fingers wrapped firmly as he guided her to an open spot.

Then, it was just the two of them, pretending they weren’t orbiting each other like two stars itching to collide.

She stepped closer, his other hand finding her lower back. He smiled down at her, tipping his chin enough that he could see her, and he smiled. It was all Elain needed to relax. Then he spun her. Elain’s laughter burst out of her chest so loudly that there had been no hope of tamping it down, but she found she didn’t want to as he pulled her back.

“I love the way you laugh,” Lucien whispered somewhere above her head, somewhere that her eyes couldn’t see pressed back against his body. They swayed now, feet moving as though there was some other song only the two of them knew–that their bodies knew even without them.

Their hands stayed between them, fingers interlocked and warm. The music kept on, and Elain wasn’t sure if they were even on beat with it, but she found she didn’t care. Her cheek twinged, and she realized it was because she’d been smiling so broadly. With a sense of wonder that had been lapping at the walls of her heart since she arrived in Day, Elain realized that, for the first time in what felt like maybe her entire life, she was happy.

Something fluttered behind her ribs, the motion reminding her of that glimmering, golden bond that she’d gotten so used to living around . She searched for it, rifling through feelings and emotions until it seemed so obvious and apparent that she wasn’t sure how she’d ever operated around it at all. 

She tipped her head back to find Lucien already staring down at her, his golden eyes whirring just softly enough that she could hear it. What did he see when he looked at her?

“Why did you wait for me?” The words were out before she could regret them, and she searched his face as they landed.

He didn’t pause, even for a moment. “You are worth waiting for, Elain. You always have been, and you always will be.” 

She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to articulate that the words had barreled straight through her, blasting through whatever walls she’d ever erected against this male. She couldn’t remember why she’d ever pushed him away, couldn’t imagine a life where she didn’t see him every day. 

She took the golden cord, imagining it wrapping around her fingers and tugging it so gently. Lucien’s eyes widened and he gave a breathy inhale that did something to her, flipping her stomach.

“I don't want to wait anymore, Lucien,” she said, plainly, then tugged that beautiful cord down again until her lips met his.

It wasn’t the same as their kiss in Summer. It wasn’t like any kiss Elain had ever experienced, or even like any she’d seen.

It wasn’t soft, or slow. At least not after the first press of their lips. It felt like waves crashing–like mountains collapsing and lightning striking. Time fell away, the music, the food, the wine, the people all becoming secondary. That was a life far away–something that didn’t matter. What mattered was the sweetness of that wine on his lips, the spices mingling with something that some place deep inside her identified as just being Lucien . She let her tongue trace the seam of his lips, and he opened without hesitation, her kiss falling into his. Their tongues brushed, and she was distantly aware of her fingers in his hair, silky sweep of it soft, and perfect, and so him. Their mouths moved together like they’d been made to. Elain supposed they had been, but her mind had gone away what felt like eons ago. All that mattered was the press of him against her, the feeling of their mouths, their hands, their souls finally, finally, finally touching as they’d been meant to.

When they pulled apart–breathless, stunned, entirely different from the people they’d been just moments before–time seemed to have stood still. The music still rang out around them, the people still danced, and the stallkeepers still peddled their wares.

But something had changed within Elain. 

As Lucien looked at her and she at him, their chests touching with each breath and their eyes hazy, Elain understood that even though it all looked the same, it wasn’t.

Everything was different.

+++

The rock walls were almost red as Elain traced her fingers along them. They matched strangely lacquered floors, so deeply colored they almost looked painted with blood. They shone, her heels clicking against them as she walked down the deserted hall. With floors like that, you’d think the walls would be covered with a gilded wallpaper, not sconces and stone.

Distantly, she could hear voices. A crowd.

A woman’s voice above the rest, strangely warped and almost hissing. Elain couldn’t make out the words.

She could see the doors ahead, the light shining through an odd macabre glow. Her brow furrowed. Somehow, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be here, but her feet carried her anyway. 

The crowd in the room was packed, people–no, fae–standing shoulder to shoulder. There was an energy in the room, something dark, something violent. Elain moved through the crowd like she wasn’t there at all, her body winding easily through the ones who stood in her way. They were all looking at the same thing, all listening to the same voice.

The crowd felt tense, almost perched on some imaginary edge. As though they were all waiting for some other shoe to drop. Elain was almost at the front now, just a few more feet and–

The copper hair flashed in front of her, Lucien crouched at the feet of a woman in dark clothes. She recognized her. She’d seen this woman in her nightmares.

“--back to the shit hole you crawled out of.”

Before she could even scream, Lucien was. His voice was so raw, the scream so piercing, that Elain felt it in her own chest. She was running, her feet ahead of her mind as she closed in on him. His face turned to hers, eye socket gaping and face covered in blood. 

She didn’t care. She just needed to get to him. Needed to–

“Elain?” he asked.

Elain.

“Elain!”

Elain gasped for air, body jerking upright in sheets that were entirely too silken to be her own. She whipped her head to the side, finding Lucien beside her, hand on her arm, chest glinting with sweat and bare , rising and falling with his panting breaths.

This was not where she’d fallen asleep.

She came back into herself slowly, the frantic rise and fall of her chest making her eyes blur in the dark.

“Elain…” Lucien’s voice floated through the air beside her, breathless and quiet.

“I was there. She took your eye. She–” A sob tore up Elain’s throat, the visceral need to be with him, to touch him, to stop it all overwhelming her. But he was there, and his arms were around her. She’d sweat through her thin nightgown, and the material clung to her skin, pressing against his bare chest.

“I could see you there. I could feel your terror.” Lucien sounded aghast, horrified. “I’m so sorry.” He held her like he needed this, too. Like neither of them was willing to chance letting go for even a moment as they clutched the other to them.

Time passed, still and silent in the dark. She was partway across his lap, their limbs still tangled and their breathing synced.

“It was your dream we were in, right?” she asked after a while.

“Yes. It’s a nightmare I have often.” A pulse of pain shot through her chest, a throbbing ache. She wasn’t sure if it was him or her. Maybe both of them. 

“I’ve spent decades wondering how I might have handled that particular situation differently.” She could tell he was trying to inject some levity into the situation, but the attempt sounded hollow in his throat. She pulled back.

“Do you regret it?”

She wasn’t sure why she asked, but he appeared surprised by the question, his face stalling momentarily as though in deep thought. “No, not exactly. Someone needed to tell her.” Another attempt at humor, this one a bit more hearty but still fragile sounding in her ears. He pulled back just a bit, tilting his chin to look down at her. The moonlight caught his whirring eye, making it glint. The ridges of his scars cast shadows, pouring over his high cheekbones and up through his thick brows. “I wish that it hadn’t left such a physical reminder.”

She shifted her weight, balancing herself across his legs as she reached a hand up to touch his face. He flinched back and she paused, hesitating. He closed his eyes and breathed, then reached his own hand to layer over hers, pressing it slowly to his face.

The scars felt strangely smooth beneath her fingers as she traced each slowly, the ridges crossing over his eyelid and cutting through thick lashes. In the light of the moon, they appeared an almost translucent blue. Funnily enough, it reminded her of a particular storybook she’d owned as a child, the near periwinkle shade matching the one used for the wings of the fairies it depicted.

“I know it’s hard to look at,” Lucien offered, his voice rough and ragged, suddenly loud in the silence.

Is that truly what he thought? That the scars bothered her?

She could see it then, in his furrowed brow, the tight hold of his shoulders. 

Oh, Lucien.

She tipped her head up, leaning just barely forward to graze her lips over his. It was the softest brush, but with his eyes closed, he hadn’t been expecting it. He exhaled abruptly, sharply, and the noise lit something up within Elain. There was a sense of wonder in Lucien every time she touched him–almost as though he was marveling at whether or not all of this was just another dream. The felt that some awe echoing through her own body, but for a different reason. How had she ever denied herself this? Denied them this.

“Lucien,” she whispered his name like a prayer, and he opened his eyes. She dragged her fingers from his cheek to his full lips, running her thumb against the lower one. “I think you’re the most handsome male I’ve ever seen.”

She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but they had crashed together, their bodies flush against each other and her legs around his waist. She was settled fully in his lap now, her thin nightdress rucked up over her thighs. His hands gripped over her hips, large fingers on her backside in a way that she hadn’t been expecting, the effect of him touching her mind melting. She could feel his own heart beating against hers–keeping in time with the pulsing of it she always heard in her mind–both of them fluttering like trapped birds as their lips, then tongues, explored.

She let her fingers wind into his hair again, pulling him tighter against her, pressing him deeper into her mouth. She wanted to taste him, needed that sweet, spiced scent of him so inextricably tangled with hers that she’d never get it out again.

Lucien groaned somewhere deep in his throat, the sound flipping Elain’s stomach in a way that made her roll against him. His fingers tightened on her hips, her ass, and all the sensations at the same time prompted her to make a sound of her own as his lips descended across her jaw and down the column of her throat.

“Lucien, please,” she found herself saying, though she wasn’t even entirely sure what it was she was asking for.

“Tell me what you want, Elain. Tell me, and it’s yours.” His voice was ragged, rumbling through his chest with a sense of undoneness she’d never heard from him. It was driving her mad, fueling the need for him that was threatening to overtake her entirely as he pressed a kiss directly beneath her ear, then nipped with his teeth.

“Everything. Give me everything.” As though a switch had flipped, Elain was on her back, Lucien’s mouth never having left her skin. The sensations ran through her like a river, the shores torn apart with the ferocity of the water rushing past. His lips traveled down her neck again, nestling in the crook of her shoulder. Goosebumps littered her skin and a shiver skittered down her spine. It had never felt like this. She had never felt like this.

Though she would rather do just about anything else than think of him, Greyson popped into her mind. Sex with him had been…in retrospect, horrendous. At the time, she’d thought it was just the way things were. It had hurt, then it had been disappointing, then over—all in one fell swoop. As time had passed, she was embarrassed at her willingness to accept that for the rest of her human life.

With just kisses, Lucien had made her feel a thousand times more. With just dreams, he’d made her understand that pleasure was the purpose–not just for him, but for her, too. She wasn’t sure how much control he’d had in her dreams, but feeling his mouth on her now, she was certain that he’d prioritize her pleasure over all else.

“Is this okay?” he asked, mouth pressed to her skin as he traveled further and further down. She couldn’t think of anything more okay as she nodded. “Words, baby. Give me words.”

Elain could think of plenty of words she might use.

“Yes,” she gasped instead. “Please.” The plea came more quietly, an entreaty to not stop, to never stop. He obliged, his lips and tongue leaving a chill in their wake as he worked his way further down. Outside of her dreams no one had ever touched her like this, never done this with her. Graysen had told her men didn’t do this, that it was disgusting.

Insecurity overrode pleasure momentarily, and Lucien didn’t miss the way her body flinched inward as her legs pulled back.

“Don’t hide from me, Elain. Not anymore. Let me see you.” The words soothed that jagged edge of insecurity inside her, the warmth of his hands drawing soothing circles on her legs enough. But Graysen’s words haunted her.

“You don’t think it’s disgusting?” 

Something dangerous flashed in Lucien’s eyes, and she knew immediately that he understood where the insecurity stemmed from. He rose just slightly from where he’d settled between her legs, eyes fixed on hers and face set. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously low, boiling the blood in her veins until that alone was enough to make her bite back a sound crawling up her throat.

“I am many things, Elain, but I am not a liar. So believe me when I tell you I would drag myself through hot coals to have a taste of you.” Her lips parted at his words, the crassness of them doing something absolutely unthinkable to her body. She could feel her own arousal, smell it in the air around them, and when Lucien lowered himself back down to have that taste he’d spoken of, the groan that left both of their mouths was enough to tell her he’d been honest.

She could think of nothing, fathom nothing except for him. He ate her like a man starved, alternating strokes of his tongue while she broke apart around him. She knew from the many nights alone in her bed, thighs pressed together with her hand between them, that she was hurtling violently toward the edge. She’d never come this quickly, never felt so much.

Her body bowed and her back arched, and Lucien banded a forearm across her to hold her steady. The sounds he made against her made it seem like he truly was enjoying this, and through the haze she could see his body moving against the bed. The orgasm snapped through her like the crack of a whip, like the breaking of thunderheads. She was exploding, fractals of light and sun and broken glass littering the bed and being built back together around him. She’d barely come down before he was over her, kissing her, the taste of her bright and musky on his tongue. She loved it, was mad with it, wanted more, more, more of him. Of this.

She expected him to crawl between her legs, thrust forward without preamble now that he’d made her come. Instead, he settled his body beside her, slowing the kisses but deepening them, the intimacy nearly enough to bring Elain to tears.

“We don’t have to do anything more tonight.”

She wanted to, wanted him inside of her, but there was relief in the admission, too. Instead, she reached to the waistband of his sleep pants, tucking fingers beneath the hem wordlessly.

“Let me touch you,” she whispered, filling the air between them,

“You don’t have to–”

“Please, Lucien. Please.” She felt him nod against her, and she was pulling him from his pants. She understood on some level, from her dreams, how large he was. But holding him in her hand was something entirely different. His skin was warm and feather soft, but he was so hard she could feel every vein that covered him. She wrapped her fingers around him gently, but he still bucked into her hand, a sharp exhale escaping with a muttered curse behind it.

She liked knowing she could elicit that response, and when she held him tighter and began to move, she felt bold, body still humming with pleasure. She tilted her head to press lips to his neck, sucking lightly as he’d done. The reaction was immediate, and he grew impossibly harder in her hand, his hips twitching. She moved her mouth up and down the column of his throat, licking and nipping and suckling until the sounds he made satisfied some deeply primal part of Elain.

She moved her hand over the head of him, smearing a bead of liquid from the crown and back down the other side as she moved. Faster and firmer, tightening her grip as he moaned in her ear, the deep, peppery smell of him making her vision white out with desire. She felt manic, absolutely unhinged. He wanted her—the sounds he was making deep in his throat were for her. With a final graze of her teeth along the front of his throat, his grip on her hip tightened and he jerked forward erratically.

She felt it as he came on her stomach, the heat of it branding her skin in a way that was so delicious she couldn’t find the words to describe. It felt like a claiming, and the golden bond within her seemed to hum and purr with pleasure as he panted above her.

The room was silent save for their breathing, the sheets rumpled over their tangled legs. There was plenty to clean up, but Elain, for once, couldn’t have cared less. Her head fell to rest against his chest, and his hand immediately cupped the back of her head, running fingers through her hair.

“Stay with me,” Lucien asked quietly, his voice a hoarse whisper against her forehead.

“Always.”

She thought she’d said the word aloud, but she was already falling into the blissful void of sleep, Lucien’s arm tucked tightly around her.

Chapter Text

When Elain woke, the sun was already streaming through the curtains and painting the room in a broad swath of warm light. It was late—far after sunrise.

She was a little sweaty, the sheets twisted up around her legs. The nightgown she’d worn to bed the night before was rucked up to her breasts, bunched beneath her with all else exposed. Not that she’d want to, but even before she’d noted the heavy, warm arm resting over her waist, there would have been no denying the previous night’s activities. 

She smiled. 

How many times had she woken abruptly, startled from a dream just like it? How many times had she stared at the ceiling, confused and hot and frustrated?

Behind her, Lucien rustled against her, his nose and cheek pressed into the space between her shoulders. Her smile widened as he moved against her.

“Morning,” he mumbled, the brush of his lips against her spine sending goosebumps skittering over her. She felt the moment his smile spread across his face, his fingers dancing down over her pebbled skin. “I like this.”

She turned, body shuffling until she was facing him. He looked beautiful in the morning sun, the dappled rays of gold giving otherworldly light to his mussed hair. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him so rumpled—one side of his hair tangled and sticking up, a fabric line pressed into the sharp arc of his cheekbone, eyes still hazy with easy sleep.

“Good morning, Lucien.” She thought she might feel embarrassed in the light of day, after she’d decided to stay. Worried that it might all feel like it had been too much, too soon. But here—pressed against the heat of his chest, the evidence of what they’d done the night before still painting her body and his sheets—she felt nothing but a bone deep contentment.

As though he could see it too, his shoulders relaxed. He leaned forward, nosing down into her hair, inhaling deeply before pressing a kiss to her crown. It sent a bolt of heat straight between her legs, the gesture so possessive, but so natural between them.

“Did you sleep?” His low voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against hers. She had slept. Better, in fact, than she could remember having slept in ages.

“Like a stone.”

He pulled back, grinning down at her, a twinkle in his eye. “Not too hot?” he asked. “I’ve been told I run warm.”

He did seem on the warmer side, his skin heating beneath her fingertips as she brushed them over his chest. It was smooth, a smattering of deep reddish brown hair curled neatly against his pectorals. She knew that hair trailed down, led down to dust around the waistline of his pants, and then further still. Her fingers itched to run through it again, to reach beneath that waistband and…

She took a deep breath, almost laughing at how shaky it sounded.

“I’ve always gotten a little chilly at night,” she finally responded, Lucien’s eyes brightening at her response.

His hand cupped her jaw softly, so gently, as he tilted his head down to take her lips in his. There was none of that frantic energy of the night before, no rush as their lips moved together, carving a space for each other in the soft light. He tasted like candied apples, like soaked cherries and cloves and coffee. Deep, rich flavors on her tongue that reminded her of the weather changing, the leaves shifting colors. She didn’t focus on the kiss, or the moving of his lips against hers. Instead, she relished the taste of him, the way they moved together languidly as though they had all the time in the world.

When they finally drew apart, eyes fluttering back open, Elain wondered how she might ever return to her old life now knowing what it felt like to kiss Lucien Vanserra. The spark of mischief in his eyes made it seem like he’d somehow heard her thoughts—like he not only knew, but felt the same way. It wasn’t lost on her, though, that she had no intentions of returning to the way things were before. If she hadn’t been certain of it before, last night had solidified it for her.

They parted ways with a few more chaste kisses, then a few more after as those devolved. When she finally drew herself from the bed, pulling her nightgown back down before flitting to the door with a shy wave, it must have been nearing noon. She ducked into the hall, needing a wash and a change before the two took off for Spring, only to hear the creak of a step. Elain just about flew into the doorframe of her room as she startled.

Jurian stood by the stairs, grin a mile wide as he raised an eyebrow at Elain. She froze momentarily, then, realizing she was still in only a nightgown, jerked her own door open and raced inside.

She was suddenly glad they were leaving for the Spring Court today. She had no regrets about what she and Lucien had done, but she wasn’t certain she could joke about it over tea, either. 

In the bathroom, she traced her fingers over her throat, featherlight touches where his lips had been, where she wanted them again. It had all felt so impossibly good—so much better than anything she’d ever experienced before. It was hard to not be angry as she realized how much time she’d wasted—how much of it had been her own fault. She reminded herself that she was here now, and all she could do was move forward and not make the same mistakes again.

Lucien was hers, and she thought she could just as easily be his. And after all, Vassa was right. Lucien was perhaps the most devoted male she’d ever encountered—certainly no human men considered their partners even a fraction of the way he considered her. The odds of him growing tired of her and leaving felt so laughable that she nearly rolled her eyes. Perhaps coming here had changed the course of something, had altered the vision and even the future, too. 

Regardless, she’d spent enough time stalling her own happiness about things that hadn’t come to pass. She couldn’t continue living that way. Instead, as she bathed, she thought about all the things that she’d always wanted in a partner, in someone to love. She thought about how easy that might all be when she pictured Lucien, and for the first time in ages, Elain looked to the future with delighted anticipation and not fear.

+++

Spring was, perhaps, the most beautiful landscape she’d ever seen. Beautiful rolling hills, dappled patterns on the forest floor as the sun streamed through the trees. Lucien had let Elain practice winnowing them closer to The Wall then taken over to get them nearer to the manor. There were still some wards, he’d explained. Walking in instead of winnowing would seem less threatening than outright breaking through them.

She hadn’t encountered much of the High Lord of Spring at all, past her shaky memories of the war. Not surprisingly, he wasn’t a very big part of her life in Velaris, and though she’d heard her sister and Rhys speaking of him and the condition of Spring, it never seemed very positive. 

As they walked closer to their destination, the land began to change. It was still beautiful, still verdant and filled with life, but the terrain was overgrown— wild . The wildflowers bloomed strangely, deep colors that Elain had never seen before. Some of the plants had bright red petals that almost looked to be dripping down their tall stalks—they looked like they were bleeding. Trees’ sprawling branches bowed out and touched the earth, thick oaks with gnarled branches twisting towards the sky and back again. Even the blowing dry grasses seemed to whisper that something was wrong here, that something within the magic was behaving oddly. Elain could nearly feel it beneath her skin, a distant humming that felt distinctly separate from the bond in her chest and the powers she could use.

The life here felt distressed , and it was getting worse the closer they drew.

Lucien’s hand was in hers as he walked ahead, a building dawning on the horizon of the rolling hills. Whatever Elain had been expecting of the home of the High Lord of Spring, this was not it. It towered over the landscape, a massive series of buildings and walls that had clearly once been great. It stretched across the land as though it were a part of it—not only by right of itself, but because the ivy and plants seemed to be eating it alive. It was quiet as they neared, the buzz and hum of insects and wildlife quieting as though even they didn’t dare to step inside.

Lucien led her up steps of cracked marble, a hand on her back and his eyes whirring and observing. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve visited,” he said, almost apologetically.

“Do you usually come more often?” she asked. He almost winced in response. 

“After the war, yes. I helped with repairs after Hybern tried to tear the land to pieces. Rhys did too. Tamlin was…unsurprisingly resistant to the help.”

Elain thought about the High Lord of Spring, about his past. She should hate him for what he’d done, but her experiences with him were few and strange. He had risked his life to save her, willingly given power to save her brother in law. Not unlike everything else, it was complex, and her feelings were conflicted.

The double doors to the foyer weren’t locked, Lucien opening one and stepping in. 

“Tamlin?” he called out. His voice echoed in the emptiness. The manor did look as though it had been repaired, if not poorly managed, since. A thin layer of dust covered everything, the sconces empty and clean as though they hadn’t been used. He led her through dark halls, the quiet so encompassing it made her ears ache. After receiving no response, he led them out through the back doors onto a porch that stretched the length of the manor’s backside. 

Ahead was what appeared to be a garden, a now-abandoned maze that had clearly once experienced beauty. Now, it was overgrown, a mass of bushes and florals that were growing wild and unwieldy without tending. Still, she wanted to go to it, to try and see what it might have once been.

Lucien walked to the side of the manor, calling out again for Tamlin while Elain stepped down to where the hedges began. The air was heavy, sky darkening with the clouds of an afternoon storm. In the distance, she could hear the deep rumbling of thunder. At the entrance, the hedges bordered stone walls, dried vines with withered flowers swishing in the low breeze. Without thinking, she reached out a hand, pressing it to the vine—prickly beneath her fingertips—and sighed, thinking of how beautiful they must have once been.

She felt the change before she saw it, the vine plumping and smoothing beneath her hand as she jerked back. The verdant green spread—leaving life in its wake over the cracked carcass of dried vine that had been there moments before. It spread the length of it, the petals coming back to life in explosions of pink and lavender hydrangeas up and down the wall.

How had she managed to—

The roar caught Elain so off guard that she stumbled back violently, crashing into the other stone wall hard enough to hurt. 

Everything moved so quickly that Elain barely had a chance to lift her arms to protect her face before the beast was upon her, hot breath searing her skin as it snarled. 

“Tamlin, no!” She could hear Lucien roaring, the violence in his voice startling even her.

“Why would you bring her here?!”  

Her eyes were closed, but the voice was distorted—too deep—as it came from the beast in front of her. Even with the strange tone, it sounded riddled with grief. Elain’s heart ached oddly to hear it. 

Lucien’s voice was closer now, right beside her as she cracked her eyes. “It’s not her, Tamlin! It’s Elain!”

She understood then what had happened. Still, at Lucien’s shoving, the beast turned, instincts overriding whatever part of the High Lord of Spring existed inside. She watched as he moved fast as lightning, jaws opening to snap towards the flash of copper that had rushed back to protect her.

She wasn’t even thinking before she was moving, some primal part of her operating her body without anything else involved. She was hurtling in front of Lucien, in front of her mate , as the massive beast roared his defiance. But it didn’t matter as she slid to a stop, arms out as though to protect. Tamlin roared again and Elain snarled.

The sound sobered her, her body straightening immediately as a small squeak left her lips in response. It seemed the reaction had startled the High Lord too, for he cocked his great head minutely, strange eyes widening and focusing. He took a single step back, then another before huffing out a breath of hot air and turning to amble into the woods. 

Elain watched as he disappeared into the trees without another word, and everything was silent. As the adrenaline died, the embarrassment crept in. Had she truly just….snarled? At a High Lord? At Lucien’s former best friend?

Gods, above. 

Her face burned red, the heat drifting all the way to the tips of her arched ears. She was nearly afraid to turn around, mortification burning deep. This wasn’t ladylike—nothing like the demure and delicate damsel she had been brought up to be. Lucien was a courtier, a male of high society, and he’d just watched her all but turn into an animal in front of him.

She dug her heel into the ground and turned, body so aware of Lucien’s only feet away.

Would this ruin the progress they’d made? Would he change his mind?

But just as the first drops of rain started to fall, the breeze kicked up. Her nostrils flared as her eyes snapped up, deep clove and pepper wrapping around her like a blanket. Lucien was staring at her like he’d never fully seen her before—his eyes dark and hooded, his face set in a sort of dangerous, hungry determination that could only be described as feral.

Lucien took a step forward, and Elain’s heart beat so hard she felt it like a punch to the chest.

Not her heart. The bond.

The second she acknowledged it, she understood. Lust and desire so strong it nearly bowled her over flooded through her chest. She could feel it all—she could feel him. A crack of thunder split the sky and the clouds opened as Lucien closed the space between them in two quick steps.

Cold drops of rain splashed against their skin as Lucien’s mouth crashed against hers. She could feel the want in every fiber of her, the need to have him in her hands, her mouth, her body overwhelming anything else. Their mouths were open, teeth clanking and tongues exploring. There was nothing of the tentative passion of the previous night—this was a primal need that went beyond anything Elain had ever experienced. His hands were under her ass, lifting her against his body. And as though this was a song their souls had been singing together since the dawn of time, her legs wrapped around his waist, pressing her to his hips. She could feel the length of him through his pants, hot and hard. She twined her hands in his hair and tugged, angling his face back so she could kiss him more deeply. She felt insane—dizzy and wild and knowing that she needed more of him.

She arched her back and pressed into him, grinding against the erection that was impossible to ignore between them. Even through layers of clothing, it rubbed against her in a way that had her letting loose a whimper. It was all it took for Lucien to lose whatever scrap of control remained. He growled deep in his throat, his fingers tightening across her ass. Gripping her tightly to his body, he rolled his hips against hers, and then they were winnowing.

Elain barely acknowledged the whipping of the winds between worlds, but she did feel the jarring as Lucien’s feet hit the ground. He was already walking again, the rain pouring down here, soaking their heated skin. The thunder cracked violently above and she opened her eyes long enough to see that they were beneath a canopy of the tallest trees she’d ever seen, woods on all sides.

Lucien’s mouth grazed over her jaw, teeth nipping and biting as he made his way down the column of her throat. She could smell his arousal, smell her own rising as if in answer. She wanted to wrap it around her forever, mix it with her own in a way that she’d never thought of before. She wanted to claim him, every part of her a part of him, too. She wanted to see if he tasted the way he smelled.

She pulled back, dropping her legs and stepping back abruptly. Lucien’s perfectly arched brows furrowed, concern painting his face until the moment she dropped to her knees in front of him, understanding and lust washing his expression out. He looked like a god there above her, hair mussed and wet, clothes rumpled with the way they’d touched each other. The rain was still coming down, the drops tracing slow lines down his skin. She watched one follow the pattern of his scar, dripping delicately from the tip of a single line of skin down onto the cupid’s bow of his lips. He licked them, eyes searing into her. He looked as though he was ready to eat her alive, and Elain had never been so hot in her life.

“Let me taste you, please,” she begged.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back as though her words pained him. His throat worked under the gray light of the openings in the canopy above. Every part of him was broad, strong. She wanted to bring this man to his knees.

She was already moving when he tipped his head back down, darkened eyes giving her all the permission she needed. The contrast of the cold rain against his heated skin felt sinful, nearly erotic as Elain took him from his pants. He hissed as she flicked her tongue out, tasting the liquid pearling at the crown. It tasted musky, spiced—everything she loved about Lucien’s scent concentrated. She felt untethered, and she understood the way he’d eaten her last night. 

She took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around to taste more. 

More, more, more . 

Her body demanded it. The bond in her chest was pounding, pulsing like it wanted this as badly as she did. Her mouth watered as she moved, focusing on the feel of him beneath her hands, moving on her tongue. His thigh shuddered beneath her other hand as she heard him gasping from above her, and she was dizzy with the power of it. The power she had over him.

She wanted to touch herself, could feel the slick gathering between her thighs. She pressed her legs together for friction, for relief, before dropping her hand from his leg and giving in to the urge to touch herself. She moaned around his cock as she stroked through her own arousal, letting it coat her fingers before she switched hands, spreading it over Lucien’s cock.

“ Fuck , Elain,” he cursed above her, his hands brushing her hair from her face. She chanced a look up, expecting to find that same hunger and lust in his eyes, but surprised to see something like adoration there too. He was looking at her like the world started and stopped in her eyes, and it tripped her up momentarily. Lucien simply ran his fingers along her scalp, the other cradling her jaw. 

“You look so pretty, Elain, taking my cock so well.” If she was hot before, the words lit an inferno in Elain. She felt consumed by the fire, and the responding look on his face told her he felt it too. She resumed the pace and doubled down, both hands working over the part her mouth couldn’t. His fingers tightened in her hair, and Elain wished he’d pull harder. As though he’d heard her, he tugged, and Elain nearly came herself. She hollowed her cheeks as she hummed in pleasure, and Lucien cursed low again.

“I’m going to come,” he warned, but she didn’t slow. She wanted all of it—she had meant it when she said she wanted to taste him. His whole body shuddered, hips bucking forward as she took him deeper. 

“ Gods –” The word cracked out of him like a strangled yell as she felt the first ribbons of his come coating her throat. His fingers tightened on her scalp as he emptied into her, and Elain was near delusional with how much she liked it. He tasted perfect—the smells of the forest and autumn treats and something so unmistakably Lucien that she nearly swayed with euphoria. 

Mine. He’s mine , her mind hummed as she pulled back. 

Above her, Lucien was panting, breathing heavily in the rain. He didn’t hesitate a moment, reaching down to pull her up by the hand, but not stopping until he’d tugged her up with a yelp from her lips and slung her into his arms. Only then did Elain take in the rest of her surroundings. They were deep in the woods, but it wasn’t just the trees. Behind where they’d been was a perfect white house. Lucien was walking them towards it, and Elain felt the moment she passed through the wards around it, sticky magic clinging to her skin for just a moment before letting them go.

It was paneled in perfect white wood, dark green shudders surrounding big windows and vines creeping over the sides and up to the two twin chimneys on each side.

“Is this yours?” she asked, voice quiet as though it might break some sort of magic between them.

Lucien nodded. “I built this a long time ago, just for when I needed some time from the manor.”

“We’re still in Spring?” she asked.

“Yes, not far off, but it’s warded. Just me, and now you,” he added, reaching beneath where he held her to open the door. As though by magic, the fire roared to life in the hearth, faelights illuminating the rest of the space in low, warm light. He closed the door behind them with his foot, the lock clicking with a wave of his fingers. He didn’t break stride as he walked them towards the fire. 

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, following it with a giggle as he sank them slowly to the floor in front of the fire. His eyes were shrouded in the shadows of the flickering lights, but they were focused on her as his mouth quirked up into a smile.

“Beautiful,” he echoed, never looking away from her.

Slowly, he lowered himself down her body, sitting back onto his legs and untying her boots one by one. He removed each, setting them gently beside the fire. Next, he stripped her wet stockings, the knees irreparably stained with mud Elain couldn’t help but smile at. His warm hands trailed up her bare legs, exploring beneath her dress as he dragged it up to her hips. She lifted her arms to undo the buttons down the front, cold fingers from the rain fumbling with the soaked material while Lucien wrapped his fingers in the band of her underwear. She grabbed the hem of the dress, tugging the entire thing over her head and tossing it to land on the floor away from them with a wet plop. She was bared before him now except for the small scrap of cotton. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the pitch of their breaths. His eyes were locked on her chest, breasts heaving with the breaths she took. He stared like it was something holy to behold, and Elain felt herself flush. 

They’d touched each other in the dark, and they’d seen each other in dreams, but this was the first time it had been real—open and in person and with the lights on. As though remembering he had a task to complete, Lucien lowered himself, face directly over Elain’s underwear before licking a stripe up over the fabric. Between the rain and her arousal, the fabric was soaked, and Lucien’s gruff sound of approval landed somewhere low in her stomach before he finally moved the material down her legs.

Once she was bared in front of him, she rested back on her elbows while he looked.

“You’re entirely too dressed, Lucien.” Her voice sounded husky in her ears, almost unrecognizable, but Lucien responded to it like a whistle, his hands immediately pulling his shirt over his head, ignoring the buttons entirely. Elain swallowed dryly, his entire torso on beautiful display in the warm glow of the fire. She wanted to run her tongue along every dip, divot, and scar—each tendon and muscle beneath her lips. His pants were still untied from outside, and something about that felt so erotic to her as he pulled them and his undershorts the rest of the way down. 

She understood, then, the way he’d been staring at her before. Lucien was truly a work of art—something so far past anything ever captured in a painting. This was worthy of books, of museums, of churches. She leaned back as he crawled back over her, skin hot where it touched against hers as the curtain of his hair fell around them and he took her lips in his. The kiss was soft, but insistent, and she returned it with enthusiasm. Her blood still simmered in her veins, that need only having momentarily paused instead of abating. 

She wanted him like she’d never wanted anything before. Wanted to know what it was like to feel someone move inside of her when she wanted them there, when they cared about how she felt, too. When they cared about her.

As though reading the emotions raging inside her, Lucien pulled back just enough to place a kiss on her forehead. 

“Are you certain, love?” The word bloomed in her chest like the flowers had in Spring—bright and new and full of promise. It was a question about what they were about to do, yes. But it wasn’t just that. She could see the nerves flickering in his russet eye, the nearly undetectable dip in his brow as he held himself back above her. She reached up and tucked a piece of soft, scarlet hair behind the peaked arch of his ear. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want you, Lucien. All of you, all the time.” There was a moment where time stood still, where the air between them crackled with something more. The bond surged in her chest, and for the first time, she welcomed it, opening it as much as she could. She wanted him to understand the way she cared about him, the way she had for so long.

His breath caught above her as she reached for him, notching him at her entrance as his eyes closed. 

“Please,” she whispered, letting that need and joy and relief soak into the golden tether between them.

At the first press of him inside her, Elain knew that this was something different. The stretch of him at her entrance, the stirring in her chest—she could feel the sting and burn of her body as it made room for him inside her, but she could also feel it in her soul. A soft sound worked its way from his throat as he pressed his hips forward, both the noise and the motion drawing a whimper from Elain. She rested her hands on his shoulders, her fingers toying with his ears, his neck while she closed her eyes and just felt .

Lucien pushed forward slowly, then drew back, over and over again for what felt like an endless amount of time. Elain was vibrating with need, that razor sharp edge of pleasure warring with her violently every time he withdrew himself from her body. She was sweating, the cold forgotten, her skin hot against his as she writhed beneath him. 

“Gods, Elain. Fuck .” She loved the ragged hush of his voice, loved to hear the strain in it. She loved knowing that it felt just as good for him, that he was struggling to hold himself back for her.

But Elain was tired of waiting. Nearly shaking with need, she surged up, grabbing the lobe of Lucien’s ear in her teeth then pulling back to whisper.

“Don’t hold back, mate .” 

The groan that escaped Lucien’s chest was like nothing she’d ever heard, and it broke whatever remaining tethers were keeping him gentlemanly as his hips surged forward, their skin meeting as Elain cried out, Lucien sunk fully inside her. She’d never felt anything like this, knew she was ruined for everyone else permanently and languished in the feeling as she gasped.

He didn’t give her a moment to catch her breath, his arm banding behind her back as she’d arched and his hips spearing into her now like he couldn’t stop it even if he’d wanted. Her legs wrapped around his hips, body pulling him deeper still as she tilted her head back in his arms. She could feel every inch of him moving inside her, every ridge and movement, every push and pull. It was euphoric, and when he let his mouth fall to her neck, she was all but keening against him as he nipped and sucked his way around the skin.

Suddenly, he was pulling back, taking her with him. He pulled Elain up from the ground, her body tingling as the angle changed while she straddled his lap. Here, he could cup her backside, controlling the pace in an entirely different way. Elain wondered if she’d died, if this was whatever heaven waited on the other side as she draped her arms over his shoulders.

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” The words babbled out of her like nonsense, begging and pleading for what she didn’t know. She wanted to come, but she wanted it to last forever. She wanted to be here, pressed against this male, until all the stars blinked out of the sky.

Elain was already teetering on the edge when Lucien reached between them, his thumb finding her clit and rolling it slowly beneath it. The pleasure wrapped a hand around her spine and tugged violently, her whole body shaking against his as she plummeted over the edge. A choked sound left Lucien as she tightened like a fist around him, her thighs clenching and her arms squeezing. He exhaled her named like a prayer, fucking up into her while holding onto her like she was his last hope. He cried out as he came, arms flying up to wrap around her back as his body quaked against hers, breaths hot and heavy against each other’s skin.

They remained there, bodies fused together in front of the firelight, until their breathing fell back to soft pants and Lucien lowered them back to the plush rug beneath them. He settled her slowly, coming to rest at her side and then gently brushing the hair from her face.

She felt it then, as their eyes met. Understood what it was that her sisters spoke about so reverently. Knew why everyone called this bond sacred as he reached out and touched her cheek so softly that emotion welled in her chest. Lucien—kind, sweet, patient Lucien. Her mate, her friend. He’d have kept waiting as long as it took—he’d known from the beginning, and he’d waited for her to catch up, hand outstretched, for her to make the decision on her own.

She knew it to be true as certainly as she knew her own name

“I love you,” she whispered into the space between them. He didn’t seem surprised, but the tears immediately welled in his russet eye. “I think I have for a while now.”

His lips on hers were soft and slow, a gentle press that felt more like a promise than anything else. His fingers brushed over the skin of her face like he wanted to memorize it, like she was more precious than any wealth or knowledge or treasure. He pulled back, his gaze scanning hers so thoroughly that she thought she might be seen—truly seen— for the first time in her life. 

“I’m so in love with you, Elain Archeron. Every part of me is yours.” 

And when he spoke those words, she had the thought that she could understand the way he saw her. That she might see him exactly the same.

Chapter Text

Lucien smelled like fall—the spiced, warm scent so reminiscent of the seasonal delicacies that she remembered from the kitchens in her early childhood. When she was still knee-height to the staff, Elain often found herself in the kitchens, especially around the holidays. She was always drawn to the cozy scents, the lengthy processes. She loved the effort and time that the dishes needed, and the yield and reward when the house smelled so lovely.

As she lay there, eyes still closed, that same warmth and comfort and excitement unspooled in her chest, the bond a steady, pulsing glow around her ribcage.

This felt like safety. This felt like home. 

Her eyes finally blinked open to the warm light of morning washing through the delicate, muslin curtains and spilling over white sheets. In front of her, the bed was empty, but on the pillow lay a small bundle of wildflowers tied with a bit of twine.

Elain sat up, smiling so hard that her cheeks hurt as she pulled the tiny scrap of parchment from beneath them. In Lucien’s sloping script, it read:

Gone into town for food. I’ll be back soon, sweetheart.

-Lucien

He hadn’t wanted her to wake and miss him—hadn’t wanted her to wonder if he’d left her there. The fluttering of her heart made her feel almost dizzy with emotion. A clinking in the kitchen caught her attention, the gentle hum that followed paired with the humming in her chest told her it was Lucien. She must have slept longer than she’d thought for him to have already returned. 

She picked up the flowers, smelling them, before wrapping the sheet around her and padding out to the kitchen. The physical reminders of the night before left a delicious heat swimming through her veins, an unfamiliar satisfaction spreading through her at the ache between her legs. She flushed, loving the idea that she’d be reminded all day of where he’d been, where he’d claimed her. She wondered if there might be other ways she could convince him to do the same—leave his marks.

In the streams of morning sun, Lucien’s hair shone like burnished gold. He was dressed casually, his shirt buttons nearly opened halfway down his chest, rumpled from where they’d dried overnight. He moved in front of the counter, stirring something in a bowl while occasionally turning to check something else in a pan on the stove. It smelled delightful, whatever it was. His movements were elegant, graceful, and Elain found she loved simply watching him. 

After a moment, as though he’d sensed her eyes on him, he tilted his face up, smiling wide when he saw her.

“Good morning, Elain,” he said, his grin nearly splitting his face for how wide it was. She loved the way he looked at her, like each time he was discovering something new. She thought she must look a sight, curls askew from the rain and activities of the night before. Still, he beheld her like a gift, a treasure, and it lit her up inside.

“Good morning, Lucien.” She spoke the words through a smile, strangely much less shy than she thought she might be after she’d spent hours on multiple surfaces of this cabin before they’d made it to the bed.

“Did you sleep well, my lady?” His tone was teasing and light, the smile still stretched so widely across his face that her heart leapt to see it. She’d never beheld such absolute joy on his face, such unabashed happiness. He was glowing like the sun in front of her, and she’d done that. She was the reason.

She felt an awe beyond words as she took in that revelation.

Why in the world had she waited so long for this?

“Not much,” she shot back, her humor and contentment matching his as she crossed the space between them. She almost thought that he might ravage her there in the kitchen, whatever was on the stove be damned, as he leaned down and cupped her face in his hands. Instead, the kiss he pressed to her lips was soft, domestic, familiar . It felt slow and purposeful, a million conversations pressed lovingly and gently into the meeting of their lips. It was everything Elain had ever read in her love stories—every bit of hope she’d never dared to have for a future of her own.

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead against hers, everything about the moment feeling so delightfully warm and right that Elain exhaled shakily across his lips before biting her own. He echoed the exhale, sounded just as content as she felt—right before he lifted her by the hips to set her on the counter. Her startled yelp dissolved into a laugh as he set her down with flourish, returning to stir what appeared to be onions and peppers and maybe even some sausage in the pan on the stove.

“It smells amazing. You’re a better cook than you let on.”

Lucien scoffed. “Hardly counts as cooking. I’ve just learned to get by. I spent a lot of time alone, and taverns get tedious when you’re attending in the daylight hours.” He shot her that delightful grin again over his shoulder. 

Still though, she hated that little offering. Alone . 

He’d spent so much time by himself, flitting between courts, never feeling he fit. She knew enough about his past to know that he’d set down roots in many places, but the bond gave her enough of his heart to understand he wasn’t sure where he’d call home.

It occurred to her that she understood that better than she might have thought. The thought flooded her with both sadness and understanding.

“I thought we’d eat then start with some villages close by. I know of some towns where we can start. Even if we don’t find the Seer, they’re good for some gossip that might get us where we need to go.” 

Elain nodded, swaying her feet over the side of the counter while Lucien cut what looked like a fresh loaf of bread. It all seemed so painfully and incredibly normal, and she was stunned with how much she loved this sight. This beautiful kitchen, walls of green and polished wood, bordered by white cabinets and delicate brass knobs. This was the kind of kitchen she wanted to bake bread in, standing at Lucien’s side while he helped cook a meal. She could suddenly see eons here, a simple life in the woods, flowerbeds inlaid and overflowing in the windows. 

The thought caught her breath just as Lucien finished pouring the eggs, stirring them just so into a fluffy scramble.

It was a future she wanted. One she felt so deeply she might swear it was making a home in her very bones. But it had just been a very nice thought, not a vision. 

Lucien’s breakfast was delicious, and Elain was half-tempted to crawl right back into bed instead of searching Spring for a Seer they may or may not find. But he stretched out over the chair like a cat, offering her a quick hand up.

“I’ll stop back by the Spring Manor tonight and get the bags we left.” She blushed to remember the hurry they’d been in as she put on her dress from the previous day. Sometime overnight or this morning, Lucien had hung it up to dry. Something inside her preened to see how he took care of her without any instruction, to see how he knew and anticipated her needs without direction or complaint.

Lucien’s voice called out, “I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready!” as she pulled on her stockings and boots. Mysteriously, they were dry, too. She had a sneaking suspicion that the male with the incredibly warm body and fire magic had everything to do with it.

She walked towards the door, taking in the rest of the cabin without distraction. It truly was beautiful here. Not too large or showy, but not so small as to be cramped. Lucien had clearly put time and thought and care into each aspect of this space, and his personality shone through the decor. She liked how Lucien everything felt—she could see him in every piece of it.

As she emerged onto the pretty porch and down the stone steps to the walkway, she caught a glimpse of copper hair between the trees. She startled to see the massive beast looking at her from over Lucien’s shoulder. 

He wasn’t much different from the version of him that had haunted her nightmares once—still large, imposing, deer, bear, wolf, and something other . But now, at a distance and in the daylight, she could see the mats in his fur, his coat dulled from the lustrous shine she remembered from the firelight the night he’d taken Feyre so long ago. 

As he looked over Lucien’s shoulder at her, there was a draw to his face, a sadness in his eyes. His grief was something palpable even at this distance, but Elain stood still on the walkway, unsure of what she could offer to the situation. 

He blinked once, slowly, then huffed as he turned his great head to walk back off into the woods. When Lucien turned to her, she saw he was holding their bags in his arms.

+++

It had been two weeks since Elain and Lucien had arrived in Spring, and they were hardly any closer to finding what it was they’d come for. 

Still, it hadn’t stopped them from exploring every town and village the Court had to offer as they worked their way across. She’d seen towns close to the border of Autumn, already swathed in leaves of all colors. She’d seen rolling hills of deep green with trees so wide it would take twenty of her to span the base. She’d met countless people, all of whom seemed to somehow know Lucien’s name, who wanted to buy them drinks and teach them songs and dances and feed them until their bellies burst.

They may not have found their Seer, but Elain had never had so much fun in her life. 

She’d grown so adjusted to the cabin, to the little village not far off, that it had all begun to feel alarmingly like home. Each night, without fail, she and Lucien cooked something together, careful of how the food was served as they both stammered and blushed. 

Truthfully, she’d found herself asking more than once what the harm would be at this point. But still, she wanted them both on the same page. It was all so soon, and she was enjoying how things were. Plus, from what she’d heard from her sisters, they wouldn’t exactly be able to track down a Seer while dealing with the mating bond.

But Lucien didn’t rush her, and she didn’t rush herself.

In fact, Lucien might have been the least rushed person she’d ever met in her life. Everything he did, even with purpose, felt slow and steady. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Her sisters, so determined, so fierce, had all been full paced forward. Everyone she’d met in Prythian, truthfully, had been that way.

But Lucien, here, at his home where he felt most comfortable, seemed to move at his own pace. For the first time in years, perhaps in her entire lifetime, Elain felt like she could slow to a speed that was comfortable. He didn’t rush her as she lovingly kneaded the dough, or potted the new flowers he’d bought her. He didn’t seem like he was constantly looking at a clock as she browsed in the villages, or wanting to be somewhere else as she spoke to vendors. On the contrary, he was there at her side, enjoying things with her. As though there was all the time in the world.

For the first time in her life, Elain felt at peace .

At night, they would fall into bed together—or the floor, or the couch, or the counters. Anywhere they could find a moment in each other’s arms, they would. And just as he didn’t rush in any other aspect of his life, Lucien didn’t rush bringing Elain pleasures that she’d never thought imaginable. She knew she’d been missing out, but she couldn’t have even fathomed the sort of things that he could do. She thought she might spend centuries with this male, only to still be learning new ways he could make her feel, new sounds to draw breathlessly from her lungs. 

They’d just finished exactly that as they lay in the bed, wrapped around each other, heavy breaths cascading in rhythm with the cicadas humming low through the cracked window. A light breeze coursed over her skin as she sighed, tracing the skin of his chest with featherlight fingertips.

“I’ve never taken anyone here,” he said suddenly, his voice a low rumble in the dark. Elain lifted her head to look at him, only the fading twilight illuminating his features. 

“I built this place little by little when I was permanently in Spring. It was a project, a way to get away for a while. Tamlin always knew about it, but he understood this was my place to unwind. A place for me to call home.”

Elain didn’t speak, just laid her head back on his shoulder to listen.

“I thought—” he cleared his throat. “Back then, I wasn’t sure why I even bothered to make it larger than a single room.” The cabin held four rooms, each spacious and mostly empty. A desk, weapons, some chairs, another with a bed that looked like it had never been touched.

“It seemed silly. At the time…” He let his voice drift off, and Elain sensed where this was going before he even spoke again. She pressed a kiss into his chest, urging him on. She felt him exhale deeply. 

“I thought my mate was already dead.”

Jesminda.

Elain had heard the name before, had dreamt of her. Or had seen Lucien dream of her. She was beautiful, the wings of a butterfly and the face of an angel. Elain knew how the story ended, holding her breath as he shared the words with her.

“Beron and my brothers killed her. Made me watch.” She could hear the strain on his words, feel the pain crawling through his skin. It felt like her own, echoing in her chest. She tried to soothe him, both through the bond and physically with her touch while his breaths began to shake.

“For a long time, I thought it was my fault. That the way I was born had made them hate me so much they’d take the one thing I’d ever cared about. Even now, I wonder. But I knew it wouldn’t bring her back.”

Elain wondered what he meant—the way he’d been born. She pressed another kiss into his skin.

“Even when I thought there was no future for me, no one to build this for, something told me to make it large enough for a future. Some nagging piece of me wanted to make it bigger every time I tried to size it down.”

Somewhere in her body, Elain’s stomach summersaulted.

“I think, even then, I was waiting for you.” Each word landed with the impact of a mighty blow, falling around her as tears she hadn’t realized she was crying crept down her face. 

“A part of me will always love Jes—for what she taught me, for what she was made to sacrifice. And I will always be thankful for that.” Elain understood. She would never ask him to give that part of himself up. She was thankful for her, too. For teaching her mate about love, and not whatever the High Lord of Autumn had tried to show him it was.

“But I built this house for you, Elain. For us.” She tilted her face up to his, finding nothing but shimmering emotion in his eyes. Love and adoration and grief and joy painted so plainly across his features. “Sometimes I can’t believe that you’re real,” he whispered, his lips meeting her forehead.

“I love you, Lucien.” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. “I would never ask you to not love her, or to leave her behind. She’s a part of you, and I love every part.” 

His next inhale was wet in his throat, but she could feel the relief through the bond, low and quiet and happy between them.

“And I’m honored that you brought me here. In fact, you’re going to have to bribe me to leave,” she offered as he laughed into her hair. He shuffled further down the bed, cradling her in his arms as her body slumped into the heat of his skin. 

It felt perfect. It felt like home. 

“Maybe we should stay,” he whispered, a yawn overtaking the end of his over. A zip of something ran through Elain at the words, those images of a life there with him flitting by as they had so often over the past two weeks.

Perhaps, it wasn’t such a far-fetched dream.

“Maybe we should.”

+++

The sun was fully behind the heavy gray clouds as they reached Dilmark by the Sea. The air was humid and warm, but the breeze blowing in off the water was gusty and strong. Elain’s hair whipped as Lucien spoke to the fishmonger with black hair streaked with gray. She’d been staring at the rocks of the cliffs they stood near, wondering why they looked so familiar.

This happened more often than not to Elain, though it hadn’t been as often in the past year. Sometimes, she’d see something and half-recognize it from a vision. It was oftentimes impossible to trace it back, to find where it had originated. Instead, it left Elain often with a feeling of nauseating deja vu. Now, she was staring at the dark rocks of the cliffs above the beach and the jetty that jutted far out into the crashing waves below, wondering where she’d seen them before.

Lucien’s hand on her back startled her as he led her away from the stalls.

“We’ve got a lead.”

“What?” She gasped back in shock. They’d had next to nothing so far.

He nodded at the rocks. “Down that way, he says. A few miles down the beach. There’s a hut, he thinks. Said we didn’t hear it from him, though.” Lucien tossed a wink at Elain, stepping forward to search for something along the cliffside before nodding back at Elain. 

“There are some stairs here that’ll take us down.” He held out his hand, and she took it without hesitation, the warmth of his palm a familiar comfort. 

The stairs themselves seemed almost carved into the face of the cliffs, the salty spray of the ocean below rising as a mist to settle on her skin.

“Did he seem to understand what we were looking for?” she called ahead to Lucien. He responded without turning back.

“Yes, I wasn’t subtle. His son is an old friend, so I felt I could trust him.” That explained the bright smile he’d shot Elain when the two had come up to his stall.

They meticulously strode down the stone steps for what felt like hours, the massive expanse of dark gray sand below endless cliffs rising up to meet them. The tide seemed low, far out into the sea, as they approached the bottom. It was firm under their feet, though, Elain’s steps sturdy as they finally reached sand.

Despite the gray clouds, it felt lovely on the beach. For a moment, Elain might have forgotten their reason for being there as they strolled hand and hand parallel to the crashing waves. She’d always longed to visit the beach as a child, her father’s stories of faraway lands making her ache for the crashing waves of a distant shore.

Now, she was entranced by them, sneaking glances out at the water while Lucien anchored her to land. They didn’t speak as they walked, instead basking in the silent comfort of each other’s company. It was another thing she had noticed in her time here with him. They didn’t need to fill the silence—they were content to exist around each other. 

Finally, Lucien stopped, the tug on her hand and the surge in her chest pulling her gaze back from the water. There, tucked right against the cliffs, was a small house. A hut, really. The paneled walls looked like they’d once been painted blue, but now sloughed off in flecks of grays and whites. Elain realized that they looked like waves. The house itself was built onto stilts, a precarious staircase dipping down to the sands below. Lucien helped her up, balancing her before letting go as they began to climb. 

The outside was surrounded by a makeshift deck, bordered by pieces of driftwood and dangling shells. Each time the wind blew, she could hear the shells clink with sea glass, a strangely haunting song filling the breeze as they ascended. When they finally reached the top, Lucien stepped in front of Elain protectively, calling out to the house’s open windows.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

A rustling from inside caused Elain’s shoulders to tense, but then the smallest woman she’d ever seen ambled out of the door. She was ancient , hair down past her knees and white as snow. She looked up at the two of them, skin so gnarled that it looked like tree bark as her brow furrowed.

“Well, are you coming in or not?” She turned on her heel and hobbled back inside, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder as Elain and Lucien exchanged a look. 

How old did a fae need to be to look ancient?

“What’s your name?” Lucien thought to ask, but the woman laughed, a rough, haggard sound scraping out of her.

“I’ve gone by many, but you can call me Aisrey.”

Inside the house, the trinkets continued, shells and dried sea sponges and jars filled with sand. Elain’s eyes widened taking it all in.

“It certainly took you long enough,” the old woman grumbled, dropping back into a wicker chair and settling in. She gestured out at the small matching loveseat across from her. They sat politely down, thighs touching in the tight space.

“We were looking, to be clear,” Lucien offered. The woman huffed.

“Well, Lucien Vanserra—” Elain felt him stiffen beside her. “You’ve found me. Now what have the two of you come for?” she asked in a way that told Elain she already knew.

“You know why we’re here, don’t you?” Elain questioned, sitting forward in the seat. For the first time since they’d arrived, Aisrey grinned.

“Elain Archeron, some bite to you after all. You’ll need that for this one’s family.” She nodded at Lucien. “Of course I know why you’re here. You’ve come to find a prophecy.”

Elain supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. The Seer had known they were coming, known their names. With all her time alive, she had probably long since honed her gift.

“Please,” Elain asked. “I can’t get the entire thing. Just pieces.”

Aisrey nodded, almost to herself, gripping the arms of the wicker chair tightly. Suddenly, her eyes flashed white, her head tipping back to the bowing ceiling and then snapping back down at Elain and Lucien. When Aisrey spoke again, it was with a strange blurring of voices, genderless and ageless, almost a hum in Elain’s ears—terrifying and familiar.

Heart of gold 

Heir of light 

Soul of fire 

Cauldron’s delight 

Twice the vision

Yet not the right 

Give thyself

To fate rewrite 

Hands of life

But borne of force

Heal the rift 

And stay the course 

But should you fail

Drawn powers win

The darkness within us

Corrupt and descend

As she finished, Aisrey’s body went suddenly rigid then slumped back into the chair. Elain and Lucien were deadly quiet and still in the aftermath, their breath the only sound past the quiet tinkering of the shells outside.

Elain’s mind whirred over the prophecy. It fit, each line matching with her suspicions. She repeated it over and over in her head, trying to memorize each word, fitting it with what she’d seen on her own. 

Heart of gold 

Heir of light 

Soul of fire 

Those lines danced circles in her mind, over and over, like something was pulling Elain to them. She barely felt Lucien’s hand in hers, the warmth of it distant and vague. Then, Elain was falling backwards.

She splashed back, the cold a shock to her skin after the balmy beach air of Spring. She was sitting in the water, only a few inches of it lapping at her body. When she looked up, she saw the figure across the shore, her breath freezing in her lungs. He was draped in black, robes from a different time layered over broad shoulders. He was crouched to the ground, hand pressed firmly to the earth. Up his arm, flicks of bright light traveled like veins, the ground around them beginning to shake beneath her own hands. His skin was pale like the shining surface of the moon, eyes deep, black gouges in his strange face. He looked both old and young, the edges of him blurring oddly so she couldn’t quite see him. Power rippled around him, leaving him looking almost incomplete. As though he’d felt her eyes on him, his face tilted up. A gruesome, dark smile split the macabre face, sharp teeth glinting in the light across the lake.

“Seer,” the figure spoke, and Elain was gasping back into her body.

“ Elain! ” Lucien’s voice was the first she heard back in the cottage, her skin clammy and cold and wrong in the humid warmth of the beach. She could see Aisrey behind him, staring as though she understood.

“It’s the Death God,” Elain breathed. She wasn’t sure how she knew, what information she’d stumbled into without knowing how. “Koschei is the one causing the flares.” As though to confirm, Aisrey nodded, but there was a somewhat detached hint to the motion. 

They hadn’t heard anything of the lake in over a year, past what they’d done to try and free Vassa with Helion and Rhys’s help. They’d been naive to assume he was simply waiting.

“He’s pulling power from the earth. It’s what’s causing the flares, isn’t it?” Aisrey nodded again, but she looked almost ill, and Elain felt Lucien’s fingers clasp more firmly on her shoulder. When Aisrey spoke again, her eyes flicked out of the front door towards the coast, her skin paling.

“You are powerful beyond measure, Elain Archeron.” Her eyes flicked to Lucien. “But there is always power in numbers.” Suddenly, the cottage gave a great groan, a shudder passing through the structure around them as sand and dust fell from the cracks between ceiling planks. Aisrey closed her eyes. 

“You both must go,” was all she said, standing and making her way to the deck of the small house just as the ground far below them began to shake. 

Had he tracked them here? Had he seen Elain in her vision?

“Come with us!” Elain shouted, the roar of the land splitting around them and the shake of the cliffs thundering now. Aisrey simply turned, shaking her head as she stepped back out into the light.

“Elain!” she heard Lucien scream, turning just in time to see the rocks falling around them. She grabbed Lucien’s hand, hardly having time to twine their fingers together before they were hurtling through the darkened void.

Chapter Text

When Elain’s feet hit solid ground, the sun was so bright and hot on her skin that she flushed. She wasn’t certain how she’d managed to winnow them both, or where she’d thrown them to, only that the air was humid and heavy.

Her hand was still grasped in Lucien’s, the other gripping his shirt tightly in her fingers while his arms banded around her back. 

“Where are we?” she gasped out, blinking against the harsh sun as white marble and stone came into view.

“Day Court,” Lucien responded, straightening. As soon as he said the words, she recognized the stone streets as the ones where they’d eaten and danced together. They looked to be in a different part of the city, the buildings taller and grander than where the musicians had played. Still, she wasn’t sure how she’d managed to get them there.

“You winnowed us here,” he whispered, echoing her thoughts. 

“I didn’t realize I could,” Elain responded, eyes scanning his face, but all she found there was awe. 

“I didn’t either.”

“Vanserra?” A deep baritone echoed around them, and the two whipped around. Behind them, Elain had failed to notice the massive steps that led up to an even more enormous building. The stone was a sparkling marble, so bright that it seemed to be absorbing the sun itself. And on those steps stood Helion Spell-cleaver.

Elain hadn’t interacted with the male much, though he was close with her family, and he loved to harass each of them for his own amusement. She always found herself a bit otherwise occupied when he’d visited Velaris, unsure of how to react to the male who seemed to have no shame and enjoy flirting openly with everyone within arms reach. 

But here, on these steps, he didn’t look like a rake ready to coax her in-laws into an orgy. He looked concerned, brows furrowed deep and worried as he beheld the two of them. As though he’d noticed Elain a moment later, the worry on his brow deepened further.

“Elain? Are you alright?”

Elain shaded her eyes as she looked up the steps at the High Lord, and in the quickest moment, as he looked down at her with eyes assessing, some understanding clicked into place inside her. 

“We’re okay,” Lucien answered. “There was a flare in Spring, right where we were. We winnowed out, but we were in a hurry, and it was Elain’s first time winnowing someone with her.”

Helion nodded in acknowledgement, the concern still stark on his face as he gestured them up the stairs. “Come. Come in. We can get your sorted.”

But Elain was still blinking up at Helion as Lucien’s hand found her back, pushing her gently forward. 

“The way I was born…” he’d said. Now that she’d seen it, she would never be able to see it any other way.

The way his smile curled to the side, those thick brows quirking in amusement and charm, bunching down in the middle in concern. The shape of his eyes, the broadness of his build. All the time she’d spent in Lucien’s company lately, studying every bit of him, every expression.

Did Lucien know?

They walked inside the palace, the air cooling substantially as she walked through what felt like wards. 

“Did you feel the surge here?” Lucien asked as Elain collected herself, staring at the beautiful carvings on the smooth walls. The palace was gorgeous, subtle but somehow still extravagant. Even indoors in the shade, everything seemed to glow. 

“We did, but hardly. Not like some of the ones before.”

“Are they—do you feel an effect on your power?” Lucien asked, as though he wasn’t sure he was supposed to.

Helion turned back, lifting that familiar brow at him before giving a curt nod. “Every time.”

The halls of the Day Court palace were enormous, natural light streaming through them all as Helion led them deeper inside. Finally, he stopped in front of a wide set of doors. 

“These rooms can be yours. I’d give you separate ones, but based on the scent coming off the two of you, I doubt it’s necessary.” Elain flushed twenty shades of pink as Helion’s typical teasing tone returned. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to contact your sister and mate and let them know you’re here. Avoiding inter-court wars and all that.” He waved a hand as he said it, mischief and amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“We’d like to let our friends in The Human Lands know as well, if that’s alright,” Lucien added. Helion waved his hand, and a piece of parchment appeared. No matter how long Elain spent in this world, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the displays of casual magic. 

“If you’re interested, dinner will be served at seven. I can have someone escort you.” 

Lucien spoke up as Elain nodded. “Thank you, Helion. We appreciate it.” He looked Lucien up and down, something strangely soft in his eyes, then shifted them to Elain.

“Anything for allies and friends.” Then, without another word, he was turning to walk back down the hallway, an easy pace as though this was nothing out of the ordinary at all. 

The second the doors shut behind them, Lucien was turning towards her. 

“What is it?” he asked, eyes curious and wide.

“What?” 

“I felt your chest flare when you saw him. Shock and something else. What was it?” There was the smallest hint of something almost desperate in Lucien’s eyes as he asked, and Elain understood.

He did know. Or suspected at least.

She was more relieved than anything else. Revealing his own parentage to him was hardly a conversation that she wanted to have to figure out how to breach.

“He’s your father, isn’t he?”

The relief she felt in her chest then wasn’t just her own, smooth and palpable and filled with a sense of calm. He shut his eyes and exhaled, his arms coming around her as his body seemed to relax.

“I haven’t confirmed it, but I’ve suspected for years. I haven’t told anyone, but I’m sure he knows, too.”

“How could more people not know?” Elain asked, almost aghast at how long it had taken her to figure it out. Lucien laughed wryly against her hair. 

“I think the red hair and the scars throw them off. I favor my mother in many ways, too. The fire magic runs through her line as much as Beron’s.”

Gods , his mother. Elain understood that the Lady of Autumn wasn’t so unlike the noblewomen in The Human Lands from the few times they’d interacted. Beron Vanserra, from what she’d experienced and heard, was a horrible male. She could only imagine the risk on the Lady’s life if anyone were to find out about the secret she held.

“I suppose it’s good that no one knows,” he whispered, but sadness painted his voice and the space inside her ribcage.

“Does Beron know?”

“I’m sure he suspects too. But the only thing worse to Beron than betrayal is shame. He wouldn’t wound his pride by ever admitting aloud that he was cuckolded in any sense of the word.” 

She sighed, what a horrible childhood Lucien must have known. Never feeling quite accepted, never quite part of the family or the court—

Elain’s gasp caused Lucien to rip back from her, terror in his eyes as though he might find some mortal wound upon her chest. 

“What??” 

“The prophecy, Lucien! The prophecy said Heart of gold, Heir of light, Soul of fire.”

He looked at her like he wasn’t following, and then understanding dawned upon him. “You think it’s about me?”

“It makes sense,” she responded. He paused, thinking.

“None of the rest does, though. Twice the vision? And how would I heal the rift and stay the course ? I don’t have any idea what that means.”

Truthfully, Elain didn’t either. Perhaps she needed to think on it more. Or perhaps, she was seeking answers where there weren’t any.

“The rift between the two courts?” she mused aloud. “Maybe we just need to think on it longer,” she suggested, brushing her fingers across his chest as they parted. The room they were in was enormous, a massive bed in the center of it leading out to an even larger balcony that overlooked a body of water so vast that Elain wondered if it might be the ocean, too.

“I can think of some things we could do in the meantime,” he whispered, his body suddenly at her back, fingers caressing as he brushed the hair from her shoulder and pressed his lips to her neck. 

Elain smiled and closed her eyes. 

+++

Elain wasn’t sure what she’d expected from dinner, but it certainly wasn’t a quiet meal in a massive hall with only her, Lucien, and Helion at the table. Despite the quiet atmosphere, the food was delicious, each course decadent and cooked to perfection. 

“Feyre wrote back immediately. She said she can be here any time, just say the word.” Elain had assumed that would be her response, but she wasn’t entirely sure what good it would do for Feyre to come here. She wasn’t even sure how long they would be staying.

“Thank you for sending that for us. And for the parchment, and the rooms and food,” Lucien offered, almost haltingly. It was rare to see him so off, but something about Elain knowing too seemed to be making it a little harder to be in the room with Helion. 

“It’s not a problem at all. Of course, you’re both always welcome here.” Something in the way he said the words—the briefest flicker of longing in his eyes as they grazed over Lucien—told Elain that it was more than just a suspicion. 

“After speaking with Rhysand as well, I’ve decided to host a summit here in two weeks time for the High Lords. Rhysand had suggested it months ago, and it’s been getting lost between courts since. But these surges have gone on long enough, and it’s time to find a solution.” Elain was relieved to hear it, though she wasn’t sure what solution there could be for power surges with no known origin, no matter how much magic was in the room.

“Can we send missives to Vassa and Jurian, as well? I don’t like them being left out of these talks after how much they’ve done.” Elain loved how firm Lucien was on this point. Vassa and Jurian had been through more than enough to be considered when the rulers of Prythian met. She was glad he always worked to include them.

“Of course. We’ll add them to the list of the missives. You both are, of course, more than welcome to stay here until the meeting. Those rooms are yours as long as you’d like them.”

“Thank you, Helion. Truly. We haven’t talked yet about what we’ll do, but the offer is too kind,” Elain added. At the very least, she knew how to charm her way through a social situation. Truthfully, she knew that Lucien likely wanted to go back to The Human Lands to wait, or perhaps even Spring to the cabin.The quiet thrum of appreciation in her chest confirmed it.

Helion simply offered a warm smile and a nod. “The offer still stands any time.” 

Helion seemed so earnest in his offer, that wistful look still tracking quietly across the table. She could feel the subtle shift in Lucien’s emotions, even before he squeezed her hand beneath the table. They’d discussed this before leaving for dinner. It was long past time for the conversation to be had. She returned the squeeze of his fingers, then turned to place a kiss on his cheek.

“I hope you won’t think me terribly rude. Today was a lot, and I think I’ll retire. I’ll see you in a bit?” She directed the question to Lucien, but didn’t miss the suddenly hopeful look on Helion’s face.

“Of course, love. I’ll be up shortly.” 

She turned to Helion. “Thank you, again. For everything.”

“Any time, Miss Archeron,” he returned with a sly smile. 

In all honesty, Elain was exhausted, her body dragging as she made her way back into their rooms. The sun had long since set, and the room was draped in a pretty, almost-purple darkness.

She didn’t bother turning on the light as she made her way to the bed, turning down the soft covers, removing her shoes and dress, and slipping in. The air smelled like fruit and the ocean, the salty breeze light and lovely. If she listened closely, she could hear the crashing of the waves. It was beautiful here, and the bed was soft as feathers beneath her. Still, she couldn’t help but miss home.

Home. When had she begun to think of the cabin as home? 

But she did miss it—all the little pieces, the creaking floorboards, the pretty kitchen and the large hearth. She missed the nights spent with the open windows listening to the sounds of the woods waking up as they fell asleep, her cheek on Lucien’s chest as she drifted off. It was more of a home than Elain had found in years, someplace she could see becoming theirs. A place they would build a life in together. 

Even so, she wouldn’t mind visiting Day. Especially if the discussion currently happening downstairs was going well. Elain blinked slowly in and out of slumber, her face pressed to the pillow as the warm breeze drifted over her skin. Finally, maybe hours later, she felt the light brushing of Lucien’s fingers against her back. He had slipped into the bed with her, body long and firm and warm against hers. 

“Hello, love,” he rumbled low, nuzzling her ear. His cinnamon and clove was twisted with a sweetness that she felt reflected down the bond, something that felt like happiness pulsing inside it. She rolled over, tucking herself into his chest and breathing deep.

“How did things go with Helion?” she asked as he wrapped his arm around her, settling in beneath the sheets. 

“He’s suspected for years.” He sighed. “It was what I’d assumed—my mother refusing to leave her other children behind, choosing to suffer on our behalf instead.” The pain of that statement alone razed both their hearts, the ache in it doing nothing to prepare her for the wash of agony at his next words. “She’s his mate.” 

Now that Elain knew what it felt like, she couldn’t imagine anything worse. To be separated from the other half of your soul, to know he was out there, and you were stuck somewhere else. Even the thought caused the bond to writhe with false alarm, the discomfort so deep under her skin she could feel it in her bones. 

It occurred to her, abruptly, that that had been exactly what Lucien had been willing to sacrifice for her happiness. He’d been willing to tamp down that agony, that pain, to give Elain what she’d wanted. The emotion nearly choked her.

“Elain?” He sounded concerned, either hearing or feeling the emotion as she suddenly couldn’t get close enough to him. She clambered over him. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

She realized she was crying, the tears tracking hot down her face

“You would have—” She cut herself off, a sob wrenching from her throat at the thought of him living a life of grief because she’d been so selfish, so unwilling…

He understood immediately what had happened, tugging her closer and wrapping both arms behind her. “Come here.” He patted her hair down, hushing her lightly until her breathing steadied.

“I love you. I have told you before, but I’ll tell you again. You are and have always been worth waiting for. This had to be something you came to on your own.”

“But I hurt you, Lucien.” The words were opening a great chasm inside her, a darkness that she’d kept herself from looking too closely into before.

“Elain, look at me.” She didn’t, and he reached beneath her chin to tip her face up to his. “You’ve had every choice taken from you your entire life. I didn’t want to be another thing on that list. I wanted you to choose me because you wanted this. Wanted me.”

She remembered his dreams, how he’d worried she’d feel shackled to him. She had chosen him, and she’d do it again in a thousand lifetimes.

“There is no world in which I would not choose you, Lucien.”

Instead of responding, his lips found hers, soft and insistent in the dark. She buried herself in him, every piece of her skin touching his. She wanted all of him, wanted to impress herself on every piece of his body to show him how irrevocably she wanted to belong to him forever, the way he was written across the very fabric of her heart.

“I want to accept the mating bond.” The words were out of her mouth, resting against his lips as he froze against her. 

“Are you certain?” The question was filled with such surprise, such awe, that Elain bloomed into a smile against him.

“Well, not here. But I want to go back to the cabin. Let’s spend the next two weeks there, accept the bond while we can be alone.”

It was quiet for a beat, then another, Lucien’s breath skirting across her lips, and then he was moving. His hands surrounded her ribcage, hoisting her to him with a crushing enthusiasm. He was standing, twirling around the room as she laughed in his arms.

“I suppose that’s a yes then?” she asked, her arms circling his neck tightly as she held on. But when Lucien pulled back to look at her, the joy on his face nearly knocked the wind from her lungs. 

“I’ve never been more serious about a yes in my life. It’s taking everything I have not to winnow us off in the night this very second.” 

“I suppose we ought to let someone know, hmm?” she teased, kissing his nose this time. He lowered her gently to the bed, following close behind until he hovered above her, kissing slowly and featherlight across her face.

“I don’t want to be parted from you again, Elain. Never again.” She understood the feeling, every bit of her aching to be attached to him forever. 

“Never again,” she agreed, her hands twining through his hair.

He let his mouth wander up and down her throat as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of him above her, against her, with her in every way. 

“Will two weeks be enough?” she asked, unsure of what the typical couple did since Nesta and Cassian had left the entire court for months when they accepted it, and Feyre and Rhys had been on an expedited timeline.

Lucien didn’t break in his kisses, but she felt his lips split into a smile against her skin, the teeth scraping delicately beneath her jaw.

"No amount of time would be enough with you, Elain," he whispered against her skin. She smiled.

“Then I guess we’d better start now.”

The following morning, Helion found their suite left open, three letters left on the bed. One was for him, the other two addressed to Feyre and Vassa. Helion cracked the seal on his to find, in a delicate script, the plans Elain and Lucien had scrapped together as they snuck out before dawn. They’d be back before the summit, and they’d like discretion until then.

Helion simply smiled, tucking the letter into his robes and bringing the others with him to send before asking the rooms be cleaned for their return.

+++

Elain stirred the simmering soup, the steam coating her face and smell filling her senses. The entire cabin smelled of stew and the three loaves of bread she’d finished cooking. Two were plain, crunchy breads that would pair well with the soup and roast she was preparing. The last was a sweet bread—cinnamon and sugar and spice swirled inside and coating the round outside. 

She’d made Lucien wait while she did it all, though he was never far. He’d been preparing the rest of the house for what they’d need since, pressing kisses to her skin every time he passed by the kitchen. They knew once they began, once the bond took hold, there wouldn’t be much time for anything else. So, they’d agreed on this morning to prepare.

Outwardly, Elain was serene, in her element in the kitchen, tasting and seasoning lovingly, preparing calmly for what was to come. But inwardly, Elain was just as jumpy and anxious and ready as a dog being held back from a bone. As if the bond was aware of their intentions, she’d felt the not-so-subtle humming of it in her chest as a constant companion since they’d left Day. It wasn’t that gentle buzz of magic she’d come to be so familiar with. This was like bees trapped beneath her skin, the pull to take Lucien and pull him to the ground with her so overwhelming she could barely breathe. She’d nearly forgotten how to make bread each time he passed the kitchen.

Now, finally, finally , she was nearing the end of the process. 

The breads all cooled on a wire rack, the roast would need at least a few more hands-off hours in the oven, and the stew had come to a low simmer where it was fit to stay. As if he felt it, too, as though the bond was riding him as furiously as it was her, Lucien appeared at her back. She felt him, the warmth of his broad chest searing against her. She hummed as his arms snaked around her waist, hands dangerously close to the point of no return.

“How much longer does the bread need, love?” he asked, nipping with sharp teeth at her ear and drawing a sigh from her lips. Every inch of her skin pebbled in goosebumps, every nerve ending in her body standing at attention at his nearness.

“All done,” she whispered, letting her head rest back against his chest. “Just cooling now.”

“Mmm, and how long to cool?” His tongue traced up the column of her throat, hands tightening on her hips in a way that sent sparks of heat through her.

“It’s still hot, Lucien,” she chided, her heart not in it as he scraped sharp teeth over the skin where her neck met her shoulder.

“It absolutely is,” he confirmed, biting down and eliciting a soft moan from her. She opened her eyes only long enough to lean forward and turn the stovetop to low.

She had hardly done so before Lucien was tugging her back, shifting her away from the oven and forward again against the adjoining countertop. She was putty in his hands, the bond pulling her towards the depths of pleasure she knew was coming. She bent forward slightly over the wooden counters, hands braced and Lucien still at her back, not a breath between them as his hands coursed up her thighs, lifting her dress slowly.

“Certainly we can find something to do to pass the time.”

She nodded, the words not coming to her as he pushed the dress over her thighs, her hips. She was waiting, not so patiently. Lucien paused abruptly.

“Elain Archeron, do you mean to tell me you’ve been in here all morning without anything beneath this dress?” The command in his voice threatened to buckle her knees, the slick that had been building between her thighs doubling at the hunger in his question.

She felt more than heard him dropping to his knees behind her, large hands smoothing over the curve of her ass. Then, he surged forward, leaving Elain no time to process before his mouth was on her, consuming her wholly. Full lips covered every inch of her sex, her body lurching forward to bend over the countertop and splay herself out farther to chase her pleasure. 

She was mindless, boneless, as his tongue laved at her, circling her clit slowly, purposefully. The movements were focused, mind-blowingly precise as his lips alternated kissing and sucking at her. She’d never experienced this with anyone else, but there was zero doubt in her mind that no one would ever be able to do this as he did. That there was anyone in all of Prythian who knew her body so well, who could make her so undone.

He drew back just enough to press a finger inside her, enough distance to make her whine as he crooned quiet comforts and lowered his mouth back to her. She was babbling, whispering pleas and praises against the wood as he drove her closer and closer to madness. Every time she reached the edge, ready to fly off, he’d draw back just enough, slow down just barely, until Elain was a quivering, begging mess. 

“Lucien,” she gasped out. “ Please.” She was mad with the need to come, every touch as oversensitive as lightening across her skin. 

Wordlessly, he complied, tongue circling her entrance as his fingers moved to apply firm pressure to her clit, smoothing slow circles. His mouth climbed higher, tongue exploring. Elain tensed slightly as it brushed over her other hole, the sensation entirely new to her. But Lucien never once let up on his ministrations with his fingers, and within moments, she was losing herself entirely to the pleasure within this new feeling.

Elain had never felt anything like it, her senses overwhelmed. She screamed her orgasm, vision tunneling and ears rushing as the forest around them heard her come undone on her mate’s tongue and fingers. 

She panted as she came back into herself, slow strokes of broad hands across her skin as she lay across the countertop. Ahead of her, the bread still cooling on the rack drew her eyes. Without thinking, she turned in Lucien’s arms. He lifted her effortlessly onto the counter by the hips, pulling his body to hers as her hands found the clasp of his trousers. He hissed as she freed him, her hand encircling his cock as her other reached behind her to break off a piece of the cinnamon bread.

Lucien tracked the movement, body rigid with arousal and awe. She held the piece of bread, still steaming, to his lips.

“Tell me you’re sure, Elain,” he whispered. She could see it then, his love, his insecurities, the need to be loved unconditionally by someone for exactly who he was. It was everything mirrored in her—evenly matched, perfect for each other.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you, Lucien. Eat the bread. Be my mate.” She pushed every bit of affection she felt through the bond, her hand still tight on his erection.

“Please,” she added, voice low and pleading. His eyes flashed to hers, then he opened his mouth and slowly closed it around the bread she offered, lips brushing her fingers. She felt the swipe of his tongue, letting her fingers fall away to touch his jaw while he chewed it slowly, purposefully.

Then, she felt the first tug. It was so strong in her chest that she nearly pitched forward. Lucien’s eyes flared, widening, and she knew he’d felt it too. She could see it on his face, feel it in his body, feel it through the bond . Something swam between them—more than shared flickers of emotion, more than sharing dreams. It was like being inside him, curled inside his ribcage, hearing his thoughts, experiencing his feelings.

Do you feel it too?

It was Lucien’s voice, but it wasn’t. It was Lucien’s thoughts , his feelings, his intentions.

Then, it happened again. This time, an unleashing of light, a burst of something in her chest. And then, there was nothing but pure, unfiltered need. She saw the moment it passed over Lucien's face, the echoes of it in her own chest, immediate and overwhelming.

In the passing of the single heartbeat it took to recognize that the bond had fully snapped into place, Lucien was kissing her, lips hungry as they consumed her. She closed her hand firmly around him, his length hot and solid in her hand as he groaned. The need for them to join was all she could see, all she could want, all she could imagine. 

If he didn't claim her right this second, she thought she might die right there on the countertop. His lips roved to her neck, hot kisses and drags of teeth along her skin as she gasped out.

“Inside me, now.”

Lucien didn't make her wait, lining himself up against the wet heat of her. He pressed in with one smooth glide, her arousal so overwhelming that he met hardly any resistance at all. Both of them cried out at the feeling, clinging to the other and letting panting breaths crash between them.

Then they were moving, bodies rocking together—a question and solution, a call and an answer. Their bodies matched rhythm like it was a dance they’d done their entire lives, as though their souls knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what the other wanted, what they needed. Her hands wound through his hair, tugging his mouth back to hers. Lucien’s movements became harder, her name murmured from her lips as he gripped her thighs, spreading them and pulling her closer across the countertop.

Elain’s head fell back, Lucien sucking along the column of her throat just hard enough to have her seeing stars. She could feel the slick between them, her arousal, their sweat, as they moved. He felt so good, so deep, so intrinsically a part of her that she wondered how she'd ever gone without.

And it was his pleasure she could feel alongside hers, thick and syrupy sweet and so heady that she was dizzy with it. She could feel him , more intimately than she’d ever felt anything or anyone. 

“Lucien,” she breathed, his name a prayer, a blessing.

He liked the sound of his name on her swollen lips, pitching forward then pulling them both back, somehow carrying them to the ground until he was laid back and she was astride him. Elain didn’t miss a moment—her body following feeling over instruction, her hips circling and her hands grabbing at Lucien's chest.

He was short of breath, panting, eyes wild as he watched her, golden eye whirring like it wasn't sure where to focus.

“I would bury myself inside you every day for all eternity, and still it wouldn't be enough,” he grit out.

His voice was rough, commanding, and it sent sparks between her legs, the tension rising, pleasure coiling around her spine again. She rode him harder, the sounds between them filthy in the otherwise silent cabin.

“Use me, mate. Feel how deep I am, and take what you need. Take everything. It’s yours.” His broad palms slid over her hips, fingers gripping and kneading at her ass cheeks, spreading them as his fingers traced closer to her ass. She was falling apart, her breath catching as the orgasm rolled through her so violently that she screamed, thighs clenching, body fulling tightening around him as Lucien roared beneath her. He took over as he body faltered, his hips slamming up into her as she lost control entirely, the pleasure pulling her under like a heavy blanket.

She came to blinking on his chest, their breathing still heavy, their bodies covered in sweat. At some point, he’d laid her down—or she’d collapsed—against him, their hearts beating together loudly as one.

“Wow.” The word emerged from her unbidden, a sigh of relief and pleasure and satisfaction and sheer exhaustion.

Her body shook as Lucien paused then broke into a laugh. She loved the sound of it—open and unashamed and filled with the sort of joy she thought he always deserved to feel. She turned her face just enough to press a kiss to his chest.

“My mate.” The words were reverent, soft, but a claiming nonetheless, and she felt the surge of affection as it floated from his body into hers.

“I hope you don’t think I’m done with you yet, Archeron,” Lucien laughed out, his hands wrapping around her again. She smiled against his skin.

“I’d hoped you’d say that,” she managed to get out, cutting herself off with a yelp as he gathered her up and stood, walking them back to their bedroom, in their home, in the cabin in the woods.

Chapter Text

Elain had woken the way she’d woken nearly every day for the past two weeks—with her ass in the air and Lucien’s tongue between her legs as the sun rose through the trees.

Perhaps it was selfish, but she was worried she’d grown accustomed to it and wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up another way ever again. After starting her day with a handful of orgasms and her mate in her arms, she couldn’t quite imagine what life would look like when they needed to return to responsibilities. 

She was still stretched in the bed now, the streaks of sun much stronger as they splashed across her naked skin and the sheets beneath her. Lucien had winnowed to the village to get food since they’d run entirely out.

Finally, two weeks later, they were starting to emerge from the frenzy of the bond just in time to go back to Day for the summit. It had been hard to do much else, her mind and focus only on him. They fed themselves and slept between touches, but all Elain wanted to do was be with him, beside him, connected to him in some way. And Lucien hadn’t been reluctant in the least to fulfil those needs. 

They’d finally left the house yesterday, wandering to a field of wildflowers not far from the cabin. 

It took maybe fifteen minutes to get there, the lush trees of the Spring forest clearing steadily as they approached the clearing. They’d only stopped once in the meantime, the imprints of the tree bark still pressed into Elain’s palms and chest. 

The flowers swayed in the wind, the colorful petals moving in a rainbow cascade on the breeze. Lucien told her he’d discovered it accidentally while building the cabin, and he’d spent much of his time here after the war. 

“Do they bloom all the time?” she asked, pressing a petal between her fingers.

He nodded. “Spring plants function on different life cycles. I’m sure you experienced something similar in Night.” 

She had, and Rhys had shown her enchantments to keep the flowers growing year round with less light. She wondered how it might be in Spring, nothing but warm temperatures and full sun to help the plants thrive. Once the summit ended, she planned to add planters to the cabin. She had big plans for a vegetable garden to rival the greenhouse at the manor.

They sat in the field, the wind blowing gently around them. Elain leaned against Lucien, eyes closed, the sweet smell of the wildflowers dancing wildly around them.

“When I die, an eternity from now, I’m going to come back to this field and lay in these flowers for the rest of the afterlife until you join me.” Elain had shoved him, laughing, but she understood the allure. It was beautiful here, the sun resting lazy and golden across the florals. It smelled like honeysuckle and lavender and gardenia and, on the breeze, that lovely smell of her mate—sunshine and spice and apples. There, amongst the flowers, they hadn’t made it long before they lay each other down in the tall grass—they didn’t make it long in general these days.

It all felt different now, a gentle haze lifting to reveal that golden sun of the bond glowing bright between them. She’d felt him before, but this was something entirely new and different. It wasn’t just flutters and feelings, but full blown emotions and intentions and thoughts coming at her at full force.

Instead of it being overwhelming, though, it felt like a gift. 

Elain had never felt more honored in her life, and feeling the adoration Lucien had for her in real time as they lay pressed together was something she never imagined she’d be lucky enough to experience. She never had to guess if he loved her, if he valued her—she knew with every fiber of her being that he was hers, just as she was his.

Now, she stretched like a cat in the bed before swinging her feet over the side, padding across wood floors to the adjoining room.

One of Elain’s favorite things about the cabin was the tub in the master bathroom. It was far larger than the ones she’d been accustomed to in her old life. It was big enough for multiple people and it sat in a far corner beneath a window that looked like slabs of ice—transluscent enough to let in the natural light, but frosted enough to keep her privacy. She and Lucien had spent many of the more lucid moments of the last two weeks in that tub, washing each other gently and, unavoidably, dirtying themselves again. 

The bathroom also boasted a shower—a tiled off area, quartered off by more frosted glass on the inside this time. There was a faucet inlaid into the wall, water tumbling out of it at the turn of a knob like a warm waterfall. They’d spent plenty of time there as well, and even now, Elain felt her cheeks pinking remembering some of their more adventurous moments.

For now, she decided a bath would suit. She wasn’t sure how long Lucien would be in the nearby village, but it had been a long time since she’d just relaxed in the tub. She filled it with the warmest water she could stand, sighing as she lowered her body in. She still ached in the best of ways, the reminders of the last two weeks hazy and lovely and delectable. She was enjoying this quiet, relaxing moment, but she wasn’t surprised to realize how much she missed Lucien already. 

She sent a little burst of affection down the bond, the glowing light of it a tangible thing in her chest. Immediately, he sent one back, a little bubble of adoration with a message that she swore almost sounded like I miss you too. They couldn’t communicate the way Feyre and Rhys could, but they might as well have. Over and over in the past days, she’d found she could tell what he wanted before he’d asked for it, and vice versa. Sometimes, she swore it was more than just emotion—swore she could hear glimpses and glimmers of his very thoughts as they flitted through his head. 

Elain smiled as she ducked down into the water, coming up to slick back her curls and rest her head on the lip of the tub. The bathroom was filled with steam and gorgeous in the streaming light. She’d all but begun to consider this home, knowing truly and honestly she would never go back to Night on a permanent basis. 

She and Lucien had briefly discussed it, somewhere in the flurry of the frenzy, that they’d split their time between here and Jurian and Vassa’s house, but that this would be where they’d call their own. She’d had no complaints, and neither had Lucien as he ducked back down between her legs to show his appreciation for their new living arrangement. 

Elain licked her lips. Perhaps she’d do the same to show her appreciation for him returning back home from the village with food.

The warm water shuttered around Elain enough to warrant her cracking an eye open.

“What—”

She was abruptly ripped beneath the still surface before a cry could even leave her mouth. 

A vision. It was a vision. But this wasn’t the soft falling into it that she normally felt. It was abrupt, jerking. It felt violent. 

The water was dark, suddenly so cold against her skin.

It reminded her—

No. Not here. Not again.

She could feel her body trembling, the cold void of nothing stretching on forever and ever. This time, though, the voice wasn’t calm and feminine and soothing. There was no motherly tone. 

Instead, the voice that greeted her in the dark was gritty, rough and demanding.

“Where are you? Where are you, Seer?” 

In the darkness, it sounded horrible, nails scraping along stone. She had the strangest feeling the owner of the voice would see her before she could see him.

Her hair floated in her face, drifting absently as she moved to brush it aside, only to find that she couldn’t move. She was suspended in the water, but there was no feeling in her limbs, in her body.

Her mouth opened to scream, but the words that rang out of her were twisted. Not hers.

Borne of two yet none at all,

The shadows rise where light dare not fall.

Unwinding all the wards that hold,

Powers meant to heal unfold.

She couldn’t see anyone, but she could feel the smugness, sticky and cloying around her, as though she’d given it what it wanted. She was being thrown, torn through the water now at breakneck speed as the cackling of the darkness faded behind her.

Her eyes snapped open onto the ground as water heaved from her lungs, spilling onto the tile.

“Elain!” Lucien’s voice was terrified in her ears as she retched over and over again, the water flooding the pretty bathroom floor until she’d expelled it all from her body. She fell back against him, body sagging into his, naked and exhausted.

His fingers gripped her so hard that she could feel the skin almost bruising. As though if he let her go, she might be lost to him forever. She could feel the desperation swimming down the bond, the pure horror. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“A vision,” she gasped. “A vision, but it was wrong.” She turned to wipe her eyes on his shirt, felt his heart hammering in his chest, his terror echoing in her own ribs.

“Wrong how?”

“It wasn’t like normal.” She paused.

There was a truth sitting on her tongue, but she wasn’t sure how she knew it. She wasn’t sure how she could. 

But Lucien’s eyes were open and worried and focused only on her. She was wracked with uncertainty, but she said the words anyway. As each left her tongue, she felt the truth of them.

“I think it’s Koschei. And I think he just managed to force a prophecy out of me.”

+++

Before the meeting had even begun, Elain and Lucien winnowed in to explain everything to Helion. No one had arrived yet, though people would start coming in that night. They were in the same rooms as before, though this time Elain picked up on the fact that they were in the same wing as Helion.

He met them in the main hall, his already bright smile turning brilliant as he paused briefly, looking between them. 

“Bonded, hm? I’ll keep my distance.” He sent a friendly wink to Elain, and Lucien turned a low growling in his chest into a throat-clearing cough, the peaks of his cheekbones dusting pink.

Helion’s laugh was thunderous, bouncing off the pretty marble walls like music as he clapped Lucien on the shoulder. 

“Now, now. None of that. I’m sure it’s all still riding you hard this soon.” Elain flushed a bit, too. But there was truth in his statement. They hadn’t really been out in public together since they’d accepted the bond, and the whole way into the palace, Elain had been fighting back the strangest urge to bare her teeth at everyone who so much as glanced at Lucien. Clearly, she wasn’t alone in the feeling as he wordlessly twined their fingers together. They followed Helion to sit on the couches in the massive receiving room, floor to ceiling windows reaching two stories up and peering out to sea.

“So tell me, what is the news you spoke of?”

Bit by bit, Elain explained the prophecy—how it had started, how her visions had brought her to The Human Lands and then to Spring. With Lucien filling in the gaps, they told Helion everything that had happened up until she’d been plunged into the bathwater by some unknown force, the new prophecy torn violently from her throat.

“How do you know it’s the Death God from the lake?” he finally asked, eyes pensive. 

“I don’t know how I know, but I feel certain. It was like…it was like he knew me. He knew where to look. And without him telling me, I felt like I knew his name.”

“You know we have extensive prophecy records below the palace, yes?” 

Lucien had mentioned them before, but they hadn’t made it to look before Spring had brought them to Aisrey. 

“Perhaps the prophecy from today has been recorded before. People will be coming in tonight, but I will spare some time to look before the meeting tomorrow. The High Lords should know of the danger. Do you have reason to believe this is all connected, other than a feeling?”

Elain winced, but Helion sat forward. “Please don’t misunderstand. I just want to confirm. Sometimes, a feeling can be more motivating than proof.” 

The words surprised Elain, and the care and compassion in Helion’s voice reminded her so much of her mate that it softened her heart.

“Just a very strong feeling. Vassa said it was strange that she hadn’t heard from him—hadn’t been called back to the lake. Doesn’t the timing seem suspicious?” Both Lucien and Helion nodded, twin brows furrowing as Elain had the strangest urge to laugh.

It seemed impossible that anyone who had seen the two of them in the same room hadn’t put the pieces together yet. 

“I think you’re right, but it will be a matter of convincing the others,” Helion added.

“If their power is at risk, which it seems to be, my guess is that they’ll be more willing to act,” Lucien said wryly. 

Helion smiled. “That we can hope. On the topic of Vassa, I’ve found a counter ward I think we can use while she’s here.” Elain immediately perked up at the news.

“A way to break the curse?” she asked, deflating when Helion’s face fell.

“Unfortunately, only temporarily, and only while she’s here. It works with my wards, barring any other curses from interfering. But it’s temporary. Prolonged use could harm her more than help her.” 

Elain nodded. Vassa would still be thrilled. A few days free of her chains would be better than nothing. 

“Thank you, truly. She’ll be so happy,” Elain offered, Lucien seconding the sentiment as Helion nodded.

He slapped his hands on his thighs as he stood, clapping Lucien on the shoulder once again. “I don’t dare get any closer than this, Elain, but I extend my congratulations to you both. You’re family now, and I hope you know you’re welcome any time.” His smile was bright and eyes twinkling as he looked at Elain, then at Lucien again. Something passed between the two of them, and Elain saw as he squeezed his son’s shoulder. 

There was something so simple in it, but she could feel the contentment in the bond. The understanding from Lucien’s side that he had a father who wanted him there—that there was another world where he’d been wanted by both his parents the entire time. 

They made plans to see each other at the meeting the next day, then walked back to their room. The golden sun poured in off their balcony as they sat on the swinging bench beneath honeysuckle and a purple hanging flower that Elain had never seen before. It smelled of a candy her father used to bring home from The Continent.

She leaned her head on Lucien’s shoulder, body relaxing as they watched the sun swoop down across the sky.

“You feel happy tonight,” she whispered, not turning her head to look, simply content to be pressed against him.

“I feel happy,” he replied, laying his head down upon hers. “It’s the first time in my life I’ve felt wanted. Really, truly wanted.” The words poked holes in Elain’s heart, the happiness overwhelming and twisting with the heartbreaking despair in the statement.

“You’ll always be wanted by me, Lucien. And your mother, and your father. You’re easy to love.”

He hummed, nuzzling down into her hair until a knock on the door alerted them that dinner had arrived. He only rose to bring it back to the swing, the two taking turns feeding each other then snuggling back together as the sun dipped low and tucked itself beneath the horizon.

+++

Elain and Lucien rose with the sun, their bodies talking before their mouths formed words. As the pastel beams of early light shot across the dark sky, Lucien made sure to mark Elain in every way possible before the High Lord’s meeting. She couldn’t say she minded at all, relishing in his claiming of her. She was nervous about the day ahead—not just being around so many people or finding a solution to the power surges, but also seeing her family again.

A lot had changed since she’d left Night.

They reached the meeting early, though many people had already gathered, the massive room where they were meeting awash with voices. The far walls were lined with tables upon tables of food—fruits and meats and varied delicacies that made Elain’s mouth water. She found their seats as Lucien went to fetch them both breakfast, Jurian and Vassa already sitting and looking every bit out of place.

“Elain!” Vassa yelled, shooting up from her chair and bounding over, embracing the female in a tight hug. “God, we’ve missed you both!”

Elain held on a little longer than was necessary, but she had missed Vassa, too. Seeing her in the sunlight was a strange and lovely experience, and her heart warmed to know she had this brief reprieve. More than she realized. When they finally pulled back, Jurian was there too. He reached out to pull Elain in for a hug. Just as Elain cautioned “I wouldn’t”, Lucien’s body slammed jovially into Jurian’s, playing it off as a rather violent hug.

Vassa, however, seemed to understand immediately upon seeing the flush on Elain’s cheeks.

“Are you—did you two—?” Elain’s grin must have given it away, because Vassa was hugging her again as Jurian clapped Lucien on the back, pulling him in for a true hug and muttering about godsdamn time .

Elain barely caught the tail end of Lucien’s response of your turn now , as Vassa tittered and smacked him across the chest. 

The four sat to eat, waiting as the other seats filled. She beheld each court in turn, the differences in appearances, styles, and attitudes. When Autumn walked in, her body clenched in tandem with Lucien’s. She hated the way Beron’s eyes skirted right over Lucien, as though he wasn’t worth looking at. Behind him filtered in Eris and the Lady of Autumn, looking beautiful but sad. Truly seeing them all here together felt almost dangerous in itself. How could anyone see her and Helion in the same room as Lucien and not put it together?

Night was, of course, the last to enter, Elain’s entire family dressed in varying shades of black. As always, they held an air of detached coldness on their faces, but both Feyre and Nesta’s eyes flared as they beheld Elain. Elain stifled a laugh as she saw Feyre not-so-subtly jam her elbow into Rhys’s ribs, his eyes widening as he looked at Elain and Lucien. 

She didn’t need to be a daemati to figure out what had just occurred.

Mated? Her sister's voice all but screeched into her head.

Yes , she smiled so Feyre could see it across the room. Talk after, she shot back, feeling more excited than nervous now.

The only empty seats were those of Spring, each empty and expected to stay that way. She’d thought about Tamlin more than once since the day he’d come to the cabin. Lucien had told her that he’d come to apologize, to bring their things. She’d told Lucien that if he came back to invite him inside, but he’d never returned. Some days, she thought she’d seen a large figure moving through the woods, but it was always just a flash before it was gone.

Elain was broken from her thoughts as Helion began the meeting, debriefing the High Lords on what had happened so far. She was thankful to not have to tell the story again. Most seemed interested and empathetic, no doubt feeling the strain on their powers during each surge and eager to stop whatever was causing it.

Everyone, that is, except Beron. He sat impassively, a sneer planted firmly on his face as though he was above it all. 

Elain already hated the male, but something about his demeanor here in such a vital time was driving her to the brink of rage. She was fighting something primal rising up inside her—an urge to maim that she’d never felt before in her life.

Momentarily, she wondered if it was the bond causing this. But she couldn’t feel anything this violent coming from Lucien. This was all her.

“Are you alright?” he leaned in to whisper in her ear. He must have felt it, too. She nodded curtly, lacing their hands together. Across the room, she caught the briefest flicker of Beron’s eyes to their hands and felt Lucien wince against her. The rage came flying back in full force.

“It doesn’t seem to be taking any power away from those who are not High Lords or Ladies,” Thesan intoned, almost as though asking.

“It might be anyone with royal blood. We’ve noticed that Nyx is mildly affected, too,” Feyre supplied. Kallias and Viviane nodded, adding that their child, too, seemed to be feeling the effects. 

Tarquin turned to Beron. “Are your sons more affected by it as fully grown fae?” Beron’s sneer turned to a snarl as he snapped.

“ None of us have been affected by it.” His growl was curt and violent, and when the Lady of Autumn visibly flinched, Elain’s hackles rose. Ignoring him entirely, Helion began speaking again.

“In my research, I think I might have an answer.” He waited for all eyes on him before continuing. “Each court has a ceremony—a celebration of some type—that brings magic back into the court. Calanmai, Starfall, the Sun Festival here in Day. The magic returns to the court, to the land. What if that’s where the Death God is pulling from?”

“Why would we be feeling the effects of that?” Thesan asked.

Helion shrugged nonchalantly. “We are part of our courts when we wear the crown. Our powers are tied to the land. If the land is being drained, then why wouldn’t we feel it, too?”

The silence in the room told Elain that the realization was dawning on them all. Helion was right—their magic was tied to the land. 

“And we’re certain this is the Death God Koschei?” Kallias asked.

Elain almost went to speak, but Helion saved her from needing to. “We’re almost certain. All signs point to him being behind it.” Elain noted Vassa shifting uncomfortably beside her, Jurian’s arm coming up around her to smooth soothing strokes over her arm.

They were brave to be here, strong and courageous and eager to help. Elain had such love in her heart for her dear friends, and the thought of Vassa’s fear over Koschei upset her.

“Do we have any inkling how this might be stopped? How he might be managing to do this while trapped in the lake?” Tarquin asked.

Helion shook his head. “He is leeching our power, but we still outnumber him.”

“Do you think he could be overpowered?” Vivianne asked.

“I think that’s the best bet we have against him,” Helion answered. 

Beron broke his silence. “Up to this point, he’s only wanted the human bitch.” He nodded his head curtly at Vassa. “Why not let him have her?” 

Jurian was already starting to stand when Lucien rose to hold him back. A growl sounded low in the room, and it took a moment for Elain to realize with a start that it was coming from her own chest. She cleared her throat as the eyes in the room shot to her.

“Queen Vassa and Jurian are an invited party in this meeting, and they will be treated with respect.” Helion’s volume hadn’t changed, but the deathly stillness in his voice held enough authority that even Elain flinched.

Beron, on the other hand, looked affronted at the show of power, violence dancing in his eyes. “Is that a threat, Spellcleaver?” 

“You may certainly read it that way, Vanserra.” 

Lucien stood. “Enough of this.” His voice boomed, and it did something to Elain’s stomach to hear him sounding off so much power. “If we’re done measuring cocks, perhaps we can form a plan for how we’re meant to deal with this.”

Helion sat, looking almost more smug than affronted by Lucien’s tone. But Beron was already standing, fire curling up his forearms. 

“Beron,” Kallias growled, almost in annoyance over warning, as though they’d all seen enough of him to feel this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“I’ll not sit here while my worthless son pretends to be in charge.” His flames flared, and the sound of a snarl ripped so tightly across the room that everyone was silenced. Suddenly, Beron was looking down at his arms in shock, the flame entirely gone as though a stiff wind had snuffed them wholly out. Slowly and in deathly quiet, he and everyone else in the room looked up, eyes finding Elain.

At some point, she’d gone to her feet, pitching her body between her mate’s and the High Lord of Autumn’s. Her snarl was still burning in her throat, her posture violent and tense. Everyone’s eyes were on her like they’d never seen her before, but all she could feel was the warm touch of Lucien’s hand on her back.

“It seems we’ve reached as much of an agreement as we can today. We’ll adjourn for now,” Helion’s voice rang out. Elain was almost certain she heard something that sounded like pride mingling with the surprise there. “There will be food sent to your suites, and we’ll regroup tomorrow morning.”

The bustle of people moving began immediately, and in the chaos, Lucien’s mouth was at Elain’s ear. “That was the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen, mate . And if we weren’t surrounded by people, I might already be taking you on this lacquered floor.”

The words went straight to her stomach, flipping it and sending heat through her body. But it worked to calm her, her sense coming back into her just in time. 

“Cauldron, Elain. Who turned you into an animal?” Jurian prodded, Vassa whacking him in the chest.

She felt the embarrassment all the way up to the points of her ears, but Lucien’s nuzzling into her hair brought her right back again.

“I’ve—uhm, been feeling a bit possessive lately.” 

Jurian’s bellowing laugh matched that of her brother in law as he approached behind her.

“Quite a show, little sister,” she heard Rhysand drawl as they turned. He held up his hands from a short distance away and stopped. “No need to rip my head off, Lucien. Though I think your mate might be able to handle that all on her own.”

Feyre had no such qualms, rocketing into Elain’s arms so hard it took the breath from her lungs.

“I leave you alone for less than three months and you’re mated?” Feyre asked into her hair, the laugh resounding. She’d missed her, missed them all. But she hadn’t missed Night.

Nesta came next, embracing her a bit more primly, but Elain felt the love nonetheless. “I suppose you chose a proper enough male,” she observed, looking Lucien up and down like she was considering stock at the market. Lucien rolled his eyes, but she felt the good humor through the bond.

“Most entertainment I’ve seen since the last High Lord meeting, Elain,” Cassian added from a safe distance.

She smiled again, tucked closely back into Lucien’s side. Feyre’s eyes looked her up and down, bright and surmising as she did.

“You look happy,” she said simply, the observation filled with such joy that Elain didn’t need a bond to feel it in her chest. 

“Happier than I ever thought possible.” Even Nesta smiled at that, the group moving as one out into the hallway, her body tucked against that of her mate right where she fit perfectly, her family surrounding her again.

+++

That night, in the darkness of their room, Elain waited.

She knew from the bond and his breathing that Lucien wasn’t sleeping. His head was on her chest, and as they had been for nearly an hour, her fingers carded through his hair. His mind was spinning—she could feel it. But he would tell her when he was ready.

Finally, he spoke. 

“I think it’s me.”

“Hmm?” she hummed, urging him on.

“I think you were right. The prophecy is about me.” She’d had the same thought over and over these past two weeks, more so even in the last day.

“I still don’t understand it all, but the new prophecy…” he quieted. “ Borne of two yet none at all. What if that means courts?”

She hadn’t considered that, but now, hearing the words from his lips, she was struck with the truth of it. She could hear it in the words, feel it deep within her bones, and she knew that he was right.

“What do you make of the rest?” she asked, quietly.

“Nothing yet. Though I can unwind wards. It was one of the first connections I made about my parentage.” 

She nodded over him, her chin bumping his head. “What do you think it all means?” he asked, sounding younger than she’d ever heard him.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.

“Do we tell them?”

She knew her answer—didn’t need to think about it at all. She’d just gotten him—they were finally happy. She’d be dead before she offered him up to the High Lords or anyone else, especially a vulture like Beron Vanserra.

“No,” she answered firmly, and he relaxed into her arms. Her heart broke at the simple movement. “No one needs to know that yet.”

She stroked a hand through his hair as his breaths finally evened out, the stress in the echo chamber of her chest easing into something looser, something calm.

She didn’t care about the rest of it right now, and she wouldn’t risk Lucien over something neither of them even understood. He was in her veins, in her heart—the bond thrumming low and happy between them.

She wouldn’t risk him— this —for anything.

Chapter Text

The evening sun glowed over the expanse of Day, the water glittering like gems in the distance as the light closed the gap toward the horizon. Elain stood on the balcony, the breeze warm and just light enough to toss her curls around her shoulders. She’d donned a dress fit for Day, the material gauzy and soft in her fingers and against her legs as it billowed out. 

Below, the people moved about as lights sprung to life, the smells of food and the swell of music rising up in a way that made Elain smile. She loved it here, something about this place appealing to a part of her she’d never truly gotten to explore before. This court was so open, so free. She’d have never imagined people dancing in the streets where she was from, could never imagine such spices and sounds and joy. She loved the manor with Jurian and Vassa, and she’d enjoyed Night well enough. But something about the little cabin in Spring and the wild streets below the palace of Day felt like homecoming and peace to her in a way nothing else had before.

Privately, she and Lucien had discussed whatever previously undetected power of hers had been able to extinguish the fire of a High Lord. However, when they’d tried to recreate it with Lucien’s fire in their rooms, she hadn’t been able to summon so much as a weak gust. 

The meeting had gone substantially better today, Elain making sure she’d had a better hold on herself. Thankfully, it seemed Beron had reigned his violence in at least temporarily, and she wasn’t as tempted. Still, the meeting had been productive. A plan and time had been agreed upon. It would need to be an ambush, the element of surprise hopefully working in their favor. A day had been set, a little over a week from now in order for the High Lords to return to their courts and get things in order. Then, they would strike. It left a horrible feeling of dread inside Elain that she couldn’t explain, but she also didn’t have any alternative suggestions. She’d tried to spur a vision—tried to force anything helpful— but she’d come up empty.

Elain knew that there were many, many things she still didn’t understand about whatever powers the Cauldron had given her. But Lucien had folded her hand gently, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before looking up into her eyes, that russet sparkling just as fiercely as the gold.

“There’s no rush, Elain. We’ve got nothing but time, and I’m more than happy to spend all of it with you figuring it out.”

He was right. They had nothing but time ahead, the promise of immortality never having sounded as good as it did now that she had him. She understood what her sisters felt, understood that nothing could ever feel as perfect or right as this did. The idea that she’d ever thought she could be happy with anything less was absurd. He was every part of her, entwined with each strand of her happiness and delight. She would spend every single second from here into eternity learning everything she could about him—the male she loved.

Beautiful—the word was a familiar and light whisper in her mind as she turned. Behind her, Lucien stood in the doorway. He’d also adopted a more appropriate look for Day, though she couldn’t convince him to don the sort of body wrap that Helion wore. Still, the tunic had short sleeves that left his arms to glow in the setting sun. His hair was down, a single braid down the side holding it back from his handsome face.

Perfect, she thought back, hoping he’d hear it. The grin spreading across his face as he crossed the space between them told her that he had.

Once his arms clasped around her, she turned in them, leaning her back to his chest and wrapping his arms around her, their hands tightly wound. He rested his chin on top of her head, the fit perfect as though the space had been carved out just for her.

“I wouldn’t mind living here one day,” she murmured, sighing as she watched the sun continue to sink.

“As my High Lady?” Lucien asked, lips pressed to her neck and a smile in his voice. Truthfully, she hadn’t even considered that his parentage meant that one day, he would be in charge here. She wasn’t sure it mattered to her one bit.

“Or as your wife,” she teased. They were already mated—a wedding wasn’t necessary. To hear Elain think it would have made her aghast years ago. She remembered a time in the not-so-distant past when a wedding and a husband had been all she’d ever wanted. It all seemed to pale in comparison now that she’d found something so much more sacred.

She felt him moving behind her, his body shifting just slightly before the heat of him left her back. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said.

“Say what—” Elain asked, turning, but was caught off guard by the sight of him sinking to a knee beside her. He held up in his hand the most beautiful ring—a gold band, twisted at the top to look like climbing ivy. Emeralds were inlaid to appear like leaves leading up to a glowing diamond nestled into the center. It was breathtaking, but she couldn’t stop staring at Lucien’s face.

No ring could compare to the way his eyes watched her, the way they held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“Marry me, Elain Archeron. Be my mate, my best friend, and my wife. I’ve walked too long in this world without you, and I don’t want to spend another moment without you and I together in every sense of the word.”

The words were everything she’d never expected, everything she’d never dared hope for. Marriage contracts were a romanceless thing in The Human Lands, a business agreement mostly. 

But this—this was a declaration, a promise. This was more than she’d ever dreamed of.

She was aware of the thought that he’d put into this—to know, as formerly human, she might want a wedding instead of a mating ceremony. Lucien cared about her—he cared about her. Her wants, her needs. Things she hadn’t even considered herself. He’d give up every part of himself to make her happy. And while she treasured this devotion, all she really wanted at the end of the day was him.

“Of course, Lucien. Of course.” He shot up like he’d been waiting, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her like it was the first time. It was soft and passionate, deep and slow. When they pulled apart, her lips tingled and her mind was draped in a haze. “On one condition,” she added.

“Anything,” Lucien breathed, his lips brushing hers again.

“I want a mating ceremony.” She felt Lucien pause under her fingertips at her words, drawing back to look at her.

“Not a human wedding?” He seemed surprised, and she loved him all the more for it.

“I don't care what we do, Lucien, as long as I end up with you at the end of it. We can do either, we can do both. I’m yours.”

The smile spreading across his face was like watching the sun greet the break of day. Stunning, dazzling, magnificent as he held her.

She suddenly decided how little she cared that they’d gotten ready for the banquet with everyone else. She mirrored his smile, letting the mischief reflect in her eyes.

“Now show me how much you love your future wife, my Lord,” she whispered, winding her hands in his hair as he pulled her into his arms once again.

+++

Dinner was an extravagant affair, the ballroom Helion had chosen to showcase absolutely massive. Open windows to the breezy outdoors reached up to the high, painted ceilings, the pillars around the room painted in patterns of gold. 

Everyone was milling about when they finally arrived, tables for both standing and sitting spread across the vast expanse of room. The mountains of food were endless, served buffet style with limitless options. Elain subconsciously smoothed down her hair again, trying to be subtle since they’d already come in late. Lucien wasn’t helping matters by grinning like the cat who got the cream. 

They took their seats at a table with Jurian and Vassa, the sound leaving his mouth alerting Elain that Vassa had stomped his foot before he’d even had a chance to say anything about their late arrival. Immediately, Vassa volunteered the boys to go get them food while she scooted closer.

“Look at you,” she hissed. “Gods, but I expect the most filthy details you can possibly provide. It’s barely been a month, Elain!” Vassa somehow managed to look both scandalized and thirsty for more information, her body practically vibrating off the seat beside Elain.

Elain laughed, swatting at her. “Okay, yes. But not here,” she cackled. 

Vassa acquiesced, sipping the water in front of her slyly. Elain elbowed Vassa gently in return. “How are things in that big, lovely manor all alone, hmm?” 

Vassa flushed despite grinning like a devil. “Oh, very busy these nights.” She waggled her brows. Elain was struck with how much she’d missed Vassa and said as much.

“We’ve missed you both, too. The house is pretty quiet. But we’re thrilled for you both.” Vassa turned to look at Jurian and Lucien, joking around by the food. “I’ve never seen him look so happy, Elain. You either.” She placed a hand on Elain’s, the touch warm and comforting.

“And you two?” Elain asked, more sincere than joking this time. 

Vassa’s smile was almost shy as her eyes swept back to Jurian—her voice soft as she spoke. “It’s been so nice. It’s…” She paused. “It’s the first time I’ve ever allowed myself to get my hopes up. To dream for more for us.”

Elain’s hand turned palm upwards, wrapping in her friend’s and squeezing. The vision hit her softly, slowly—a gentle washing rather than an abrupt overtaking. It came in flashes, allowing her to stay both rooted in the present and in the vision, the picture blurring at the edges. Vassa’s hair was shorter, curls bouncing as she ran through the familiar courtyard of the manor to hide behind the tall planters on the far edge. It flashed to her yelping as a hand touched her shoulder, small, dimpled.

“Momma, I found you!” a little voice called, the words excited and carrying the cadence and mispronunciation of youth.

“You certainly did, my littlest love.” Elain watched the Vassa in the vision lean into a small boy with curly brown hair and wide, blue eyes. She smiled conspiratorially. “Let’s go find Papa and your sister, hmm?”

The little boy nodded so hard his curls sprung about, already taking off across the yard, and Elain blinked back into herself. Vassa hadn’t even noticed the departure, her eyes still trained on Jurian, who had noticed and was smiling dreamily back at her like she was the beginning and end of everything. Elain squeezed her hand once more.

“I think there are many things ahead for all of us to look forward to,” she whispered, Vassa nodding beside her. 

“I certainly hope so,” she agreed quietly, some of that light dimming. She brightened back up as Jurian and Lucien returned with food, and the conversation between them was easy and fun. Across the room, Elain watched the people in attendance—her sisters both waving once they saw her watching. She knew she’d need to spend more time with them too, but it didn’t feel so urgent as it once had. She didn’t feel as though she still needed them to shield her.

The food itself was delightful and she felt positively stuffed. She would never make it living in Day with her self control the way it was and the food tasting this delicious. As it was, Lucien might need to roll her back to their room. 

Even stuffed as she was, Lucien’s hand resting gently on her thigh beneath the table as the merriment went on around them, she felt more content than she could ever remember being. The warm breeze moved the air in the room, smelling of salt and wind and sea. She closed her eyes and breathed—leaning back into the chair and letting her shoulders relax. Though she hadn’t exactly known what she’d been looking for back then, she had the strangest feeling it had always been this—this sense of quiet and peace.

It was in this calm that Elain felt it. 

It startled as the gentlest prickle along her arms, the hair rising neatly as she felt that strange humming under her skin. The awareness hit her abruptly, her eyes flashing to the wide windows and then back to Lucien. 

In the split second their eyes met, Lucien understood what Elain had, too: they were under attack.

Lucien bellowed “Get down!” to the rest of the room, and without thinking, Elain threw her hands out over the table, trying desperately to recreate the shimmering shield she’d produced in Summer. It sprung forth near-effortlessly from her fingertips, shocking her enough that it faltered momentarily before she forced it forward again. The magic arced over Jurian, Vassa, and Lucien just as the eastern wall of the room erupted into a blast of rock and stone. 

She felt Lucien’s arms surrounding her as she closed her eyes, his own power rippling around her—through her. The shield was strong, and she could feel the buzzing of it as she opened her eyes to dust and harsh light. The entire wall had been blown out, the mass of stones scattered like a graveyard where the food had been—where Jurian and Lucien had been not long ago.

Lucien’s arms didn’t leave her as she took in the damage, lowering her hands as his encircled her waist even more tightly. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and lips against her ear. She looked forward at Jurian and Vassa, crouched together with Jurian’s body over Vassa’s, both of them entirely unharmed, and she nodded against him. Around them, others hadn’t reacted so quickly, groans of the injured rising up from the dust and rock. People were hurt—this attack had taken more than just magic. Without another moment to ponder, though, she felt something different.

That sense of unease was creeping up her body, a chill as though something was wrong. She turned in Lucien’s arms, dropping whatever was left of the shield to see if he felt it too. His mechanical eye was whirring, taking in the room on high alert, and she knew he understood something was different.

“I think he’s—” Elain started, but her voice was cut off by the strangest sound, a clap of thunder pulled inward in a whirl of sound, a pool of blackness drawing into the center of the shrouded room. For a moment, she might have almost mistaken the power for Rhys’s, but this wasn’t the sparkle of night. This was the void of death.

Her stomach sank, nausea coiling deep inside her just as she saw a figure step from the dark. At first glance, he almost looked like Rhys too—the appearance of High Fae evident in his sharp cheekbones, pointed ears, and otherworldly beauty. But there was the barest flicker, the smallest shimmering, and beneath that, Elain could see he was something other. His eyes were too dark, skin too pale, the edges of him catching in the air like she couldn’t quite see all of him. The fractals of light and dust in the air seemed to suck in around him, disappearing into some strange vacuum of air. His eyes settled directly on hers as he walked forward, and a grotesque grin split his face. His teeth were razor sharp, the only imperfect thing about his glamour—dark tipped and horrifying.

“What a delight it is to finally have you all in one place,” the broad figure said, his voice loud and projecting over the room of Lords, Ladies, and their courts. Lucien’s arms tightened around Elain, and she could hear the confirmation echoing from his mind to hers. 

Koschei.

From behind them, Helion’s voice was the first to respond. “Who are you?” he asked, though Elain felt sure everyone in the room already knew. They’d been right in their meetings—this was the Death God of the lake, and for the first time, he seemed to be here to take the surge of magic in person. She looked around him for the box Vassa had mentioned he carried with him, but found nothing of the sort.

“High Lord of Day, you wound me,” Koschei continued, holding a hand to his chest and grinning. “I think we all know who I am.”

“Why are you here?” Another voice from beside them chimed in—Tarquin this time. Elain took the moment to survey the room, her eyes finding her sisters’ court and her heart allowing itself a brief reprieve to see that they were all fine. 

Koschei continued to step forward through the rubble, that horrid smile still plastered on his face as he elevated his arms in a mocking gesture of placation. “My friends, I am here to see you.”

Around them, others stood, the presence of this deathless entity sucking the soul from the room. He continued, cocking his head as he met the eyes of others. In front of her, Vassa huddled in Jurian’s arms, jutting her chin out in a show of courage, but Elain felt her entire body shaking against the table. This monster had stolen everything from her, would continue to do so for the foreseeable future. She was met with a wave of fury so palpable she felt Lucien flinch behind her as it rolled through him too.

Someone else stumbled forward from the rubble, and she turned just in time to see a seething Beron drawing up, covered in flames so hot they burned blue.

“How dare you threaten us with our own powers?” he asked, his voice full of threat.

Koschei simply spread that horrible grin further, fathomless eyes glinting somehow as he flicked his wrist. A fireball so bright it burned Elain’s eyes formed, rocketing across the room. Lucien’s arm raised to duck her down, and still she felt the heat of it over her skin as it passed. She could hear Beron’s startled yelp, and when she looked back, he was desperately trying to put out the flames that engulfed his own body. He was losing the fight as he began to scream.

“It was only a matter of time before I had enough power to project. See, unfortunately, I’ve still not been able to fully leave the wards of my delightful home.” He all but spit the word, his smug demeanor faltering along with his glamour for just a second, revealing the even more horrible sight beneath. Elain heard gasps around her. “But it’s only a matter of time.”

He snapped his fingers again, and the flames consuming Beron’s body snuffed out. Two of his sons quietly emerged to help carry him away, his robes smoking and the smell of burnt flesh permeating the air.

Rhys was the one to speak this time, stepping forward with Feyre’s hand on his arm, eyes wide and unsure. “How are you sourcing the power?” he demanded.

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out on your own.” His voice was mocking. “Each court holds power, and the High Lords bring it back to the land. They feed the power back into the court itself—every single year. It’s very easy to take directly from the ground—quite the resource.” She heard the mumbles around them. Helion had guessed correctly, but he wisely didn’t speak to confirm.

“But it isn’t enough to free you,” Rhys mused, toeing that line between cockiness and curiosity. Koschei scowled darkly. 

“No, but that’s another matter entirely.” The Death God raised a brow, eyes searching over the room before landing back on Elain. She felt it through her entire body, knew without a doubt his was the presence she’d felt in the bath when he’d ripped that prophecy forth from her. 

“It’s only a matter of time. See, I’ve been given a prophecy, and I feel I’m very, very close to figuring out what I need.” His eyes burned into hers as she glared back. But Koschei was speaking again, his voice reciting the words that she’d memorized.

Borne of two yet none at all,

The shadows rise where light dare not fall.

Unwinding all the wards that hold,

Powers meant to heal unfold.

Elain dared not break the stare between them until he looked away, but the second he did, she shot her eyes around. Helion was staring directly at Lucien’s mother across the room, no one else the wiser. They both looked nervous enough that Elain understood they’d connected the pieces, too. 

Koschei clapped his hands together in something that seemed almost like delight. “Until I find what I’m looking for or you give it to me, I’ll be siphoning off your powers.” He flicked a hand casually into the air. “It’s much easier now.” 

His smile was broad and yellowed. “Your Seer knows where to find me,” he added lazily, before turning back towards the strangely ebbing black cloud from which he’d come. 

He gestured back over his shoulder, crooking two fingers. “Come, Vassa.”

“No.” The word whispered out of Elain just as she physically felt Vassa jolt in front of her, Jurian and Lucien both moving simultaneously. Koschei didn’t look back, as though he expected it was a given she’d follow—as though the proverbial chain around her neck was infallible. Elain reached out and laid a hand on Vassa’s shoulder, fingers clamping down gently but firmly.

As he reached the dark portal and realized she wasn’t following, he turned, dark eyes narrowing on them, the fury in his face evident as Vassa refused to move. 

“I said, come.” Vassa jerked forward as though an invisible hand had yanked her. 

Elain rested both hands on Vassa, holding her back. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

At this, Koschei turned fully, a violence burning in his eyes. Without another thought, her shield ebbed out around them again, the orb effervescent in the shine of the sun. As though she’d been struck, her body yanked back. She could feel the pull, the tax on those curious powers that roved beneath her skin as Koschei’s eyes locked on hers. Still, even with the pull, she didn’t falter. She wasn’t letting him take Vassa from this place. 

The borders of Koschei’s body began to blur, the sides of him rippling as though the magic holding him was too busy focusing elsewhere. The full horror of him unleashed as people around her began to scream, the rest of the stone and marble walls of the ballroom starting to collapse around them. Her shield held, but her vision was blurring, black spots dotting her sight. Strangely, Koschei seemed to be faltering, too. She was going to hold it as long as she could. She had no hope of outlasting him, here, but she wouldn’t let go without giving it everything.

Just as she began to feel fuzzy, the endurance of her body breaking down, Lucien’s hands heated on her shoulders. She felt the sensation roll through her, over her, coursing from her arms down to her fingertips and out from where her magic was being sent forth. The shield flickered, then changed to an almost blinding light. She could feel Lucien’s powers inside of her, around her, the shield effectively cutting down and back until Koschei staggered, eyes wide.

Elain felt the briefest flicker of relief, of joy, before she registered the understanding on Koschei’s face. His lips quirked into a truly wicked smile before he let go, stepping into the void with his eyes still on her and Lucien before he disappeared entirely, the darkness swallowing him whole and blinking out. 

Around her, the walls had fallen entirely, the sun shining on the destruction below. 

And Elain understood that Koschei knew who the prophecy was meant for. 

+++

Elain hadn’t really been sleeping when she heard the door snick shut. It was late—late enough that the moon was high over the water outside. She’d been in bed for hours, but it had been restless, fading in and out of worries and nightmares. She could smell the dust on him as he entered, the gentle swishing of his clothes as he walked to the bathroom, the turn of the faucet as he cleaned himself off after what felt like a truly endless day.

When he turned the covers back and slid beneath them next to her, she finally let her body relax.

“Is everyone alright?” she whispered, almost afraid to know the answer. She’d come back earlier, caked with debris and exhausted—totally depleted of power and energy after helping to sort things out after. She’d been helping tend to the injured and organize for hours until Lucien finally demanded she go rest when she’d about dropped dead on her feet.

“One dead in the town, crushed by falling stone. Otherwise, the injuries are being managed. Helion set up a medical bay in the eastern wing of the palace.”

“Beron?”

“Tragically fine,” Lucien huffed. Elain couldn’t help a small smile.

“Helion and Rhysand have been busy resetting the wards.”

Gods, the wards.

“How is Vassa?” The moon was out, so even if the temporary hold had been broken, at least she was here and safe and currently human. 

“Shaken, but safe. Jurian won't stop pacing. I’m not sure if he'll ever sleep again,” Lucien murmured into Elain’s hair. He breathed deeply as though he was trying to remember her scent. She understood the need as she laced their fingers together and pulled him tighter around her.

“We came close to losing her,” Elain whispered after a moment.

“But we didn't,” he replied.

“But we didn't,” she echoed numbly. After a moment, she turned in his arms, pressing herself to his chest and breathing deeply as he had. She felt like the tether between them was precious, so fragile, that she wondered if she might pull him close enough that they’d never be parted. That maybe they could simply meld their skin together. Perhaps she could crawl into his ribs and curl up close and safe forever. When he kissed the crown of her head, she looked up, his gaze already on her. 

He was so beautiful in the moonlight, his golden eye glinting softly in the dark. Her brows furrowed as she noticed a cut on his forehead that she hadn’t before. She reached up to touch it, the scratch of the wound already scabbing over and rough beneath the press of her fingers.

“You’re hurt,” she accused softly, and Lucien smiled.

“Just a scratch.” Still, she continued to brush her fingers over it absently, wishing he hadn’t been injured at all. The roughness of it abruptly smoothed beneath her skin and she pulled back.

“What?” he asked, his eyes concerned.

There, where the cut had been, was nothing but a small, silvery line—nearly nothing in the darkness.

“I think I healed it.” 

Lucien’s fingers flew up to touch the cut on his face, or at least where it had been, to find nothing but smooth skin in its wake. 

“Did you know you could do that?” he asked. She shook her head, but a memory surfaced of her brief stay at the Spring manor. She’d touched those dead flowers in the garden, willed them to grow—to heal—and they had.

“Perhaps,” she corrected, thinking if she remembered any other times. In Velaris, there had been plenty of times she’d brought dying flowers and plants back from the brink, but she wasn’t sure that counted. Though, it had felt nearly effortless. At least compared to how things had been before. 

Lucien took her hand gently in his, pressing a kiss to her fingertips and looking at her with nothing but reverence and love in his eyes.

“I think there are many things you might be able to do, my sweet mate.” Before, it might have made her nervous, but under his watchful gaze, his love, Elain felt nothing but excitement for the magic she’d yet to touch. She had time to explore, to find out what she was capable of. She wasn’t afraid of it the way she’d been before—she was only eager to see what she could do with it, how she might use it to help.

“You created a shield again today,” Lucien mused, pulling her from her thoughts. She had done that. 

“It didn't feel as hard as I'd imagined.”  

Lucien huffed a soft laugh. “You threw up a shield and held it. Against a Death God.”  

“You helped,” she murmured into his chest, low but enough so he'd hear it. 

“So you felt that?” Lucien asked. She’d wondered how intentional it had been.

“I did. Is that normal? What we did?” His marked hesitance was her answer.

“I've never seen anyone do it before. I didn’t know anyone could.” 

“Did anyone else see it?” she asked. She knew all about coveted and strange powers, how they could warp and possess people, how they could paint a target. 

“I don't think so,” Lucien responded, and Elain was relieved. “Even if they did, I’m not sure they’d understand what it was they saw.”

“We should keep that to ourselves then,” she whispered, Lucien readily agreeing.

After a moment of quiet, she spoke again. “I could feel your power under my skin. I've never felt anything like that before.”

The power had been hers and his, theirs together. Bright and hot. Overwhelming but comforting and strong.

“Me neither,” he responded. “It wasn’t even a conscious thing. You put up the shield and I needed to touch you, have hands on you. When my fingers hit your shoulders, my magic just did the rest.” 

He’d been there in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no second guessing. Not to pull her back or keep her from helping, but to support her. 

“Thank you for helping me, for helping Vassa.”

“Always,” he replied, dipping his chin and letting his lips brush against hers. She kissed him languidly. There was no rush as they clung together, exploring softly in the darkness. But there was something on both their minds. Once they pulled apart, nothing but breaths between them, Lucien finally spoke the words Elain knew were coming.

“It's me who has to go, Elain.” She wanted him to take them back—hated them, even knowing they were true.

“Lucien—”

“He thinks I can break him free, break the wards, because of the prophecy. But the last line talks about healing. I don't know what part of freeing him would be healing to anyone.” He paused to take a breath. “What if I can trick him and use the wards to bind him instead? Make sure he can never leave again? Can never take the power? What if that heals what he’s breaking?”

Elain pushed up, looking at him with concern in her eyes.

“What if it kills you, Lucien? Helion couldn’t take the wards off Vassa, and he’s a High Lord. It took him out for days.”

Lucien tried for a cocky smile, but it looked hollow on his face. “Helion didn’t have a prophecy.”

“I don’t want you to go.” The words were simple and plain, but he pulled her closer.

“And I don’t want to leave you, but I have the worst feeling that if the High Lords go, they won't survive. You saw how effortlessly he wielded their own power against them today. And Tamlin isn’t with them.” A flash of Beron’s fire echoing in her mind. “He’s strong, but I don’t think he’ll be expecting me to be able to fight back.”

Elain knew he was right, but her heart ached at the prospect.  

“Then you won’t go alone,” she said, voice hard. She hoped it left no room for argument, but Lucien would certainly try. 

“You cannot come, Elain. I won’t risk you.”

“But you’ll risk yourself?”

“It’s different,” he demanded.

“Tell me how,” she countered. “I’ll not sit here while you go alone into what could be certain death. Not when I could help.”

Lucien pulled back, sighing and closing his eyes. She was ready for the argument that she’d be more hindrance than help. That she wouldn’t be able to hold her own. But it never came.

“Perhaps, us being a conduit can work both ways,” he finally said, much to Elain’s surprise. He was genuinely considering it. The realization that he valued her was a warm shock to her system.

“Yes, and Vassa mentioned a box on onyx, and I’ve seen it before. She said he keeps it with him always—that she thinks it might house his soul.”

He quieted for a moment, as though thinking, before nodding once curtly. “You can come under one condition,” he offered.

“Anything,” she responded, elated that, for once, she was being allowed to help. Once where it truly mattered.

“You will stay out of harm’s way. The second things get dangerous, you go.”

“It’s all dangerous, Lucien. The whole trip is dangerous,” she argued. She expected his annoyance, but simply got a wry smile instead.

“Archeron, you drive a hard bargain. Who would have thought you’d be the haggler of the family?”

She hated to laugh at a serious moment, but she couldn’t hold back. He was so unexpected at every turn. Her mate. Her best friend.

“I will trust you to tell me when to go, is that fair?” she offered. Lucien believed in her, believed in her abilities. The least she could do was trust his judgement in return.

“That’s fair. I will deal with Koschei, you search for the box, and if I think you’re in direct threat of harm, I will tell you to go.”

“Deal,” she whispered.

“Deal,” he responded, sealing it with a more frantic press of his lips. Elain gasped against him as she felt the searing tingle race up her arm. She pulled back to hold it up in the moonlight, a snaking vine of ivy tattooed up her forearm. 

“A bargain tattoo?” she asked incredulously, twisting her arm back and forth to see as Lucien beheld his own, twining around his bicep.

“I’ve never had one before,” he added, brushing his fingers over the pretty green vines. 

“I love it,” Elain whispered after a moment. “I like having something of you on me permanently.”

She tipped her face up to kiss him again, deeper this time as their tongues tangled and tasted each other. 

“You have all of me forever, Elain,” Lucien mumbled against her lips, their bodies changing angles and rolling beneath sheets until she sat atop him, pulling her thin shift over her head.

“Forever,” she agreed, before leaning down to kiss him again.

Chapter Text

The sky was a blinding, blood red over the water as they looked out towards the horizon. Lucien and Elain had been up since dark, saying goodbye to Jurian and Vassa before they headed back to the manor. Helion had offered to winnow them, additionally offering to cast wards of his own around the manor to keep them safe. They’d wanted to go before daybreak to travel discreetly, and Elain and Lucien hadn’t been willing to let them go without a goodbye.

“You’ll come soon, right?” Vassa asked, hugging Elain close. 

“Of course. As soon as all of this is over, we’ll be there,” Elain promised. Jurian clapped a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve still got to beat you in poker, so don’t stay away long.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Jurian,” Elain responded, no bite in her voice. Vassa squeezed her hands again, her eyes looking more earnest than Elain was used to seeing. 

“Thank you.” She didn’t say more, but she didn’t have to. Elain shuddered to think about where they’d be right now if the shield had failed. She tugged Vassa in again for good measure. 

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep him away from you,” she swore. Lucien stepped in behind her, putting his warm palms on her shoulders.

“Me too, Vass. We’ll do everything we can.” The women separated and Vassa nodded, folding herself back into Jurian’s arms. 

“Until next time then, friends,” she said, eyes watery. Elain’s stung in response as she raised a hand to wave. 

“Until next time,” she promised, hating that she and Lucien alone knew the danger they’d be risking before there was a next time to have.

Now, they watched the sky lighten, the red and orange streaks of the sun seeming ominous in their own right.

“You know what they say about a red sun in the morning?” Lucien murmured, coming up behind her to enclose her in his arms.

“Sailors take warning, right?” she offered. He hummed into her neck.

“Suppose it’s a good thing we aren’t taking a boat,” he replied. It drew a smile out of Elain, but the tension remained in her shoulders.

They were about to leave themselves, and they hadn’t told a soul. 

She’d left letters for her sisters, Lucien leaving some for Helion and another that simply had his mother’s name across the front. Lucien felt confident, and Elain trusted Lucien, but they were both smart enough to understand that there was every chance they may not return from this—bargain or no. She would be by his side until he ordered her away, and even then, Elain wondered if she could beg and plead against him to allow her to stay if things went badly.

There was no life for her without Lucien—she understood that now. This wasn’t some petty human engagement, not some rushed midnight dalliance. Lucien was her mate, her partner, her other half. If anything went wrong today and he didn’t make it out, there would be nothing left for Elain. There would be no moving on. 

He pressed his lips to her neck as the sun shifted to orange then gold, the sky brightening. People would be waking soon, and Helion would return. 

“Are you ready, love?” he asked quietly. She wasn’t, but she needed to be. She turned in his arms, kissing him deeply and slowly, their lips taking all the time they didn’t have.

“As ready as I’m going to be,” she said as they broke apart. Lucien offered his hand, palm up, and she took it, hurtling through the windy darkness with him.

They landed on a patch of dead grass on a hill, the lake spread in front of them and forests on both sides. Ahead, the crumbling, dark castle stood imposing against the horizon, the clouds gray and ominous overhead.

“Lovely place to live,” Lucien mused, and Elain elbowed him lightly. She knew he was trying to make light of the situation, to cheer her up for what was to come, but she didn’t want to be coddled. She thought they might have the best chance if she was focused.

She took his hand, and he laced their fingers together. The air was cool around them, a breeze rushing over them and rustling their hair and clothes. 

“If anything happens, go to Jurian and Vassa.” Lucien said, tone suddenly serious. “Let them help you, then call your sisters.” She nodded, her hand squeezing his tighter while she turned to look at him.

“Okay.” It was all the promise she could muster.

“I love you, Elain. Always.” She hated how much this sounded like a goodbye.

“I love you, too.” She tried to inject the confidence she didn’t feel into the words, then kissed him again. It was quick this time, but she’d gladly take any of his kisses, short or long, deep or chaste, fast or slow. She’d take any of him, forever, and she’d never take any of it for granted again.

She hated to break away, hated the way his lips felt separating from hers as he cocked a brow as if in question. She nodded, and they spun into the final winnow, bringing them straight to the doors of the castle. It was unguarded, the wrought iron gates long since destroyed and hanging loosely from the dark stone. It was bleak, the clouds seeming to hang lower over the turrets. Still, as they crept through, Elain could feel the strong magic sucking at her skin. Something within her buzzed and hummed and writhed at it, responding to some unheard song in the air.

They stepped quietly through the overgrown courtyard, the plants long since dead and wilted. She wondered idly if this place had been beautiful once, long ago. She imagined Vassa here, the bright force of nature in this soul sucking darkness, and her heart ached at the thought. They were doing this for her—they were doing this for everyone.

They made their way through the halls, unnaturally quiet and dark damp with dripping water. It was hard to not imagine that they were leading themselves into a trap. Wouldn’t Koschei have seen them coming? Couldn’t he detect their presence in the magic that guarded this place? Or perhaps the magic she felt wasn’t his, but what kept him here, instead. Still, the silence unnerved her, her hand never releasing Lucien’s as they walked.

Up ahead, she could see a light past the dim sconces of the hallway, a doorway illuminated brightly by the light inside. Their eyes met as they pressed forward, and this time, she felt Lucien’s fingers squeezing her own. A final reassurance.

She took a deep breath as they walked through the doors, her body tight and tense and prepared—only to find it empty. 

She remembered this place from her visions—a large room centered around a throne of onyx stone. The lights flickered from the lanterns, casting a frightening glow. She could almost feel his presence here despite it being empty, a magical mark left on the space. Still, this was an opportunity to search. With a look back at Lucien, their hands broke apart, her footsteps quiet in the large room as she searched around the throne. Lucien looked, too, walking quietly along the borders of the room. 

The throne was emanating a strange energy—it almost hurt Elain to get too close to it. She looked on warily, pushing through the discomfort to search all sides. Perhaps Vassa was right and he truly did keep it on his person at all times. But when she’d seen it before in flashes, it was always seated somewhere upon his throne.

She heard Lucien’s footsteps coming closer in the space, the quiet echoing around them.

“Anything?” he asked. She shook her head, stepping down from the dais and back towards his side.

“My, my. Two guests tonight?” The voice caused Elain to jump, Lucien immediately shoving her behind him as they turned to the figure in the doorway. Here, without projecting, his form was more solid. He truly looked like Fae, but still Elain’s body was on high alert, her magic writhing beneath her skin.

He took a step forward into the room, immaculately tailored clothing as dark as night seeming to swallow the light of the room. He pointed lazily at Lucien.

“I had a feeling it was you yesterday, but I’m thrilled to see you’re the mate of a Seer. What a delightful coincidence.”

Lucien growled deep in his chest—a warning at the mention of Elain, the intent behind the words. Elain felt cold, gripping the back of Lucien’s shirt as she peered at the monster in front of them.

He tutted at them, brows furrowed. “Oh, come now. Once you’ve released me, I’ll have no want or need for her powers.” He said the words as though they were meant to be comforting, but the implication in them chilled her even further. What would a Death God be capable of without anything containing him? What would the powers of the High Lords do when his own powers were at their full force? 

“What? No warm welcome? I thought you’d come to help,” Koschei drawled pleasantly before flickering from sight. Elain gasped, only to find him appearing again, darkness ebbing and flowing around him upon the massive, raised dais. 

Lucien didn’t respond, and the Death God’s eyes darkened. As if noticing what they’d been doing before he entered, he lifted a brow.

“Ah, I see. Sweet Vassa told you what she thought might help.”

“Don’t talk about her,” Elain hissed, her voice piercing the air between them, much to Koschei’s amusement.

He shrugged, then withdrew a small, familiar box from his cloak. “I assume it’s this you seek?”

Both Lucien and Elain froze where they were. The box was small and black, swallowing the light around it. It was exactly as it had appeared in Elain’s visions, though it seemed almost small now in person, almost fragile. Koschei’s eyes held Elain’s, a strange humor seeping into them as he slowly let the box fall from his fingers. The crack of it shattering echoed through the room as the pieces scattered across the stone.

“I’m sure Vassa thought she was being very helpful. Even a few days ago, she might have been right. But I’ve no use for it now. Not that you’re here.” His eyes locked on Lucien.

That hideous, discolored grin was back on his face, eyes glittering with something horrifying.

“I’m not sure what makes you think that I can help,” Lucien offered, his voice hard and cutting in a way Elain wasn’t used to.

“Why else would you have come, fireling? You understand what’s at stake. You understand the cost.”

“I’ll die before I set you free,” he answered truthfully, Koschei’s face twisting into something gruesome as the words hit.

“As you wish, then. You were foolish to bring your bride,” he hissed. Walls of flame shot up around them, the wind blowing in a circle as the fire burned hotter and higher around them, enclosing the three inside. Elain released a snarl of her own, the threat to her and her mate inciting something primal within her. 

“Did you truly come here thinking you could—what?—fight me?” Koschei taunted, eyes flashing with the reflection of the flames. He seemed to vacillate between open amusement and a violent determination as he stood in front of them, the glamours shimmering once again around him as his powers spun out around them.

“All I need to complete this is you,” he shot at Lucien, Elain’s entire body seizing up at the threat in his voice. 

Elain could feel the fire on her skin, the embers settling and burning as she jerked away. Lucien’s fingers found hers, tugging her closer as she pulled into his side. In the air around them, Koschei’s voice shimmered and warped like the voices of hundreds speaking at once. 

“Borne of two yet none at all. Home nowhere, and nowhere to belong,” Koschei mocked.

Elain hissed as the voice petered out, rejecting the words outright. 

“He belongs with me,” she responded, the rage palpable in her voice. Koschei’s eyes flared as he smiled horribly, gaze catching on Elain as the flames rose higher around them. 

“Elain—” Lucien called, but the sweeping magic was already on her, the cold rushing over her body like a roaring river as the ice covered her skin. She could see him twisting as if to grab her while the ice tore her away, twirling her and encasing her entirely up to her shoulders so she couldn’t move. Above the prison of ice, Lucien stood back on the dais between her and Koschei, still trying to protect Elain from harm.

She squirmed as she watched, trying to move her shoulders out of the ice and finding no give. Despite the cold, it burned and seared her skin, the pain turning numb and back to agony again. Beneath her, Lucien was pleading, the fire around them sending bolts of light flickering across his copper hair.

“Let her go. I'll go with you—I'll do whatever you need.” The smile on Koschei’s face was horrific.

“What are you willing to sacrifice, Heir of Day?” He knew. Elain watched as Lucien froze above her, the bitter acceptance melting across his face as the words registered. She felt as though she might be sick. 

“Lucien, don’t—”

“If I agree, you swear you’ll let her go?” he asked. “Unharmed,” he amended, before Koschei could respond. She could feel his resolve down the bond, his emotional agony. The tears on her face were hot against the cold of the rest of her body. Below her shoulders, she could feel almost nothing anymore, the frigid ice around her turning her body to stone beneath it. But still, in her ribs, she could feel the bond—feel Lucien—and he had made his choice. Every part of her rioted at the finality coursing down the golden thread that tied them to each other.

Elain understood that she was going to lose him.

“It’s a deal,” Koschei responded, a darkness flickering through the flames as they roared. Elain was sobbing, a combination of pleading and Lucien’s name tumbling from her lips. She could see the tear tracking down his cheek as he turned, looking down at her as though it would be the final time.

His voice was soft when he spoke, the words cracking like fractured glass.

“I love you, Elain. I've loved you from the moment I saw you tumble from the Cauldron. This time we've had, it was everything to me.”

“Please don't do this.” It was a whisper from her lips, coarse and ragged as she drew it forward. As she begged. “I love you, please don't go.” She threw everything behind it, forced it down the bond. She needed him to know that she was his, finally his, entirely his. She couldn’t do this without him. She wouldn’t survive if he wasn’t a part of this world with her.

“Now remove the wards,” Koschei demanded, voice low and uncaring of the tearful goodbyes happening in front of him. Elain fought, ripped at her limbs until she worried the skin and bones and muscle might tear away, if only she could get to Lucien. 

Above her on the dais, Lucien was pulling, his face set in determined concentration, brows furrowed and eyes dark. At the first tug, Elain could see Koschei’s body flinch, a strange reverberation combing through the air and the fire rushing upwards on one side, as though the magic was ebbing and flowing with what Lucien had done. 

“REMOVE THE WARDS,” Koschei bellowed into the dark. Elain was so busy looking at Lucien, she almost missed the rushing water suddenly flooding the room. Even numbed to her bones, even in hysterics, she could feel it swelling over her feet, her legs, her hips. 

With a frantic look back at her, Lucien began to tug on the powers that held the Death God captive. She could see him straining, forearms pulling invisible lines as the sweat began to form on his temples. The water was lapping at her waist, creeping up into the ice. She wanted to call out, fought the urge. She was scared to distract him, but what happened when it climbed higher? What happened if Lucien didn’t notice as it covered her entirely?

She could feel the strain on him through the bond, feel the energy he was exhausting by pulling each ancient ward away from the Death God standing in front of him. Somewhere deeper, though, she could feel something else—something buried. Lucien was pulling the wards, meticulously, one by one. But he was also weaving more. Beneath the surface, she could almost see those glimmering lines of daylight, bursting at the seams with flickering flames. If she focused her eyes, she could see them spreading, slowly, like vines, across the stone floors and up the walls around them.

Koschei seemed too busy watching his own get pulled away to sense the new ones being woven.

Yes. Yes, you can do it.

She pushed the words down the bond. The water was to her chest now, cold and lapping as it filled the rest of the room. She focused in, trying hard to summon a winnow, summon anything at all that might help her crack through the ice. But whatever power had allowed her to winnow before was hitting a wall, something within the wards keeping her from doing it. And though her magic cracked at the ice, no matter how she threw her body against the sides, she couldn’t break through the power of a High Lord.

But Lucien’s wards had spread, were still spreading, trailing up and over their heads in arcs of fire and sun that only Elain could see. She lifted her head up to watch them meet above on the ceiling, weaving and winding around each other in a way that interlocked so tightly Koschei would never be free of this place again.

The water rushed against her neck now, splashing against her mouth. It wasn’t like the Cauldron at all, this water violent and rushing. It would be over her mouth soon, covering that and her nose completely. Did fae die by drowning? She struggled wildly against the ice and water, the buoyancy keeping her from putting her entire strength behind it. She could feel liquid on her face, and she couldn’t tell if the water was splashing or if it was her tears.

As it covered her mouth, she tilted her head back as far as it would go. She could see Lucien still fighting, his power waning as he threw all of himself at the wards. She hoped that he would succeed, that he’d be able to do what he’d hoped he could. She wanted him to be the last thing she saw, his hair dancing through her vision as she closed her eyes for the last time. She wished she hadn’t wasted so much time, hadn’t waited so long to let herself love him.

Her vision hadn’t come to pass, not how she’d imagined. She wondered what had changed. What had she done that altered the path? Would Lucien mourn her the way she’d mourned him leaving in that vision? The thought of him in pain was a sharp ache in her heart. She wished she could tell him that all she ever wanted was for him to find the things that made him happy. That he could find someone else who would love him, exactly as he was. That anyone would be lucky to—that she’d been lucky to. The sob cracked from her chest as bubbles in the violent tide.

As the water covered her nose, Lucien whipped his head back like he’d heard her. She’d kept from alerting him long enough. But where she expected surprise or horror in his eyes, nothing was there except a steady, comforting surety. As though he pushed it through the bond, it echoed there.

The intention was faint through her panic, but she could feel it.

Trust me. Hold on. Trust me, love.

She did.

Elain closed her eyes and took a deep, final inhale as the water rushed entirely over her face, picturing nothing but him in her mind’s eye. 

She pictured him waiting for her in the townhouse, politely standing by in the River House. She pictured each beautiful, thoughtful solstice gift he’d given. She pictured that first night she’d come to his apartment, and every night after. In her mind, she was winnowing, reliving their first kiss, the first time he’d been inside her, the way he’d touched her like a treasure more precious than gold.

She was watching it all in her mind as her lungs began to burn. 

She knew he’d do all he could, but she also knew sometimes plans didn’t work. If these were her last seconds alive, all her thoughts would be of him. Of how lucky she’d been to love him.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take another second, the water rushed away, her mouth opening to gasp air into her lungs. She blinked, her body numb but free, falling harshly onto the stone floor. Distantly, she could hear a screaming so inhuman that the wrongness of it echoed in her bones. 

But Elain understood what had happened.

Koschei had been willing to let her die. He’d broken his bargain with Lucien, and Lucien was no longer bound to help him. Koschei had apparently realized it too, as he stood over Lucien, now down at the foot of the dais. The Death God was funneling a dark cloud of power into Lucien, and though the light at his hands showed he was fighting back, Elain could tell Lucien was losing.

She stumbled, rising from her knees. She wasn’t far from him now, but the bond in her chest told her all she needed about the need to get to him. Lucien’s power was waning, and while the wards seemed to be woven tightly, it wouldn’t matter if Koschei was trapped here if they died.

Without thinking about it, Elain broke into a clumsy run, legs still numb, closing the space and placing her hands on his shoulders so quickly that the magic reacted without her having to do anything at all. She jolted, the power rolling violently from her body to his, that light flaring wildly and beginning to overpower the darkness from Koschei as he screamed.

As the light faltered, Elain threw all of herself down the bond. Every bit of power, the parts she accepted, the parts she resented, the parts she didn’t know yet. She gave all of it to Lucien, pushed every bit into him until the light flared so brightly she could no longer see. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut, her face turned away, but she could smell the searing flames, could hear Koschei’s screams as they turned from rage to fear. 

She could hear snapping, like the cracking of a whip, the wards pulling close around them. Through the chaos, she could hear the Death God shrieking no, the disbelief in his voice haunting around them. Even when she began hitting the bottom of that well of her power, even when the exhaustion was tearing at her and the smell of burning and ash was filling her nose, she pushed the rest forward, the bond opening wide in front of her, thrumming with light and life and power and hope. 

And there, just there, was Lucien. She could feel him so strongly, as though she could touch him through it.

She heard his voice echo.

“I love you, Elain. I love you.” And it wasn’t an intention, wasn’t an emotion, but instead him speaking as though it flowed straight through the bond. She gave over the last of her magic as it flickered, the screaming around them long since having been drawn out into nothing at all.

“I love you.” It was quieter now, the darkness taking the edges of her vision as the magic ebbed, as her body gave out beneath her, slumping forward onto the ground where Lucien had been.

Her eyelids felt weighed down as she tried to open them, every part of her exhausted beyond measure, but as she reached in front of her to find nothing but the cracked stone ground, they shot open.

There was a scorch mark upon the ground, something dark and ugly. Lucien had burned the Death God into nothing, a smoldering mass of wet ground.

But that was all there was.

She whipped her head around the room, nothing but puddles seeping slowly into the cracks of the stone.

“Lucien?” she called into the dark, her voice hoarse. Had she been screaming?

There was no one in the room with her, the silence and the trickling water the only sounds in her ears. She paused one second, then another, seized by some sense of wrongness that coiled tight like dread in her chest.

“Lucien?” she whispered again into the emptiness, more a plea than a question.

Then the pain began.