Starlight and Ashes (six)

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**Sorry, I know it’s been like ten years. I expected to have more writing time in the summer, but if anything I have less! I’ll try to have chapter seven out as soon as possible. Thanks for sticking with me!

Masterlist

chapter six

Milena

I once asked my parents what life in the Spring Court was like.

I was young, maybe ten years old, but the memory is etched in my mind like an engraving on a stone.

I remember my mother’s expression falling, contentedness merging into distant sorrow. She quickly covered it up, but I still saw and I still remember. She was quick to brush the question away, distracting me with something like candy or a game. I caught Papa’s eye, searching for some sort of explanation. Looking to my mother, he too avoided the question. Alright, I could take a hint. The Spring Court was off-limits, for some unknown reason.

I probably would have forgotten about the incident, but later that night, as Papa was tucking me in, he whispered me a story.

Kneeling next to my bed, the blue faelight casting shadows across his face in an eerie, ghost-like manner, he told me about a male and female–mates–who lived in the Spring Court.

They lived in a cozy little cottage covered in crawling purple clematis, and surrounded on all sides by hedges of sweet wild roses. They had a garden where they grew all the best vegetables, and great big fruit trees. Forget-me-nots lined the path to the front door, which was painted green to match the evergreens. White lace curtains hung in the windows, which were always open to let in the perfume of the flowers.

When it rained, the two would take a stroll down the lane, faces raised to the sky to feel the drops on their cheeks. When it was sunny, they sat together on the porch swing and read each other poetry.

They spent their days tending to the cottage and the garden, sometimes selling their flowers, vegetables, and fruit in the nearby town. They spent their nights whispering plans for the future–what colour to paint the fence, what new flower to grow, what to name their children.

They had neighbours, too. On the left, just a short walk down the road, was a sweet old lady. She baked them all sorts of cookies and squares, and invited them for tea at least once a week. They always obliged.

On the right, quite a bit further down the road, maybe an hour’s walk away, was a male who lived alone. He was kind to the couple, but kept his distance. He always did promise to keep an eye on the female whenever her mate had to go away, though.

The couple lived in their peaceful little cottage for many years. They were happy with their quaint lives, and they were happy with each other.

My papa left after saying those words. He didn’t stick around to answer any of the many questions I had about the story.

Was it a true story? Who were the couple? Are they still alive?

These questions plagued me for nearly a century.

Well, at least I know the answers now.

The letter Mr. Hobkins gave me turned out to be more telling than I could have expected. Addressed to my mother, it was a letter from a woman named Rhiannon Moss. In her letter, Rhiannon reminisced about the years she knew my mother and her mate. How they lived down the road, how they came over for tea once a week. Rhiannon expressed her sorrow that she never got to meet mum’s child–me, I should hope. I don’t know what I’d do if I found out my mother had kept a sibling from me.

It all lines up with the little I know of my parents’ past. They left the Spring Court when Mum found out she was pregnant, so this Rhiannon lady of course never would have met me.

The more I read of Rhiannon’s letter, the more confused I became, although I was finally getting some answers. Why did my parents keep this from me?

Even more confusing, is what Rhiannon says about the male who lives down the road (the single male from Papa’s story, I presume). Apparently, he went crazed with anger shortly after my parents left. His sister had to come live with him because he could hardly look after himself. But two weeks ago (since the letter was sent, four weeks ago from now), his sister passed away, and he disappeared.

That’s why Rhiannon wrote the letter, she says. To warn Mum about him, in case he came to find her for whatever reason.

All this new information is making my head swim.

Rean, who has sat with me the whole time, letting me read and process, silently hands me a cup of sweetened tea.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” it comes out as a sigh, “I just can’t make sense of it all.”

Luna, who had been pacing the room since Rean and I arrived with the letter, sits next to me on the sofa and takes the letter from my hand. The parchment is crumpled where I had clutched it so tightly. “Can I read it?”

I nod, bringing the cup of tea to my lips and taking a cautious sip of the hot drink.

Luna reads, I sip, Rean puts his hand on my knee. Corin comes back with a tray of food, which he places on the low round table before sitting on the sofa opposite the one the rest of us are on. Rean goes right for the food, but eating is the last thing on my mind right now.

I knew I didn’t know much about my parents’ pasts, but now I wonder if I ever knew them at all.

“I wonder what happened to their neighbour.” Luna looks up from the letter.

“Rhiannon?”

“No, the other one. Emrick Maddox.”

I drop my cup.

“Say that name again.”

“Mila, are you alright?” Rean kneels in front of me, at first to clean up the mess I made, and now to worriedly search my face for answers.

“The other neighbour’s name was Emrick Maddox.”

“Have you heard that name before?” Luna puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“It’s the last thing my father said before– before he died. I had no idea what it meant. I guess I had forgotten until now, or didn’t notice when I was reading the letter. How could I have missed it?”

“Do you think he’s the one who did this?” Luna’s face suddenly becomes focused, her dark brows narrowing in anger and protectiveness. My friend, always ready to seek revenge for me.

“Wait, did what?” Rean looks lost. I didn’t even realize I hadn’t told him that Luna and I don’t believe what the authorities told us about the fire. I see the exact moment he understands. “You don’t think the fire was an accident.”

“It all matches up, Rean. Why else would my father say his name? It had to have been a warning.” My mind is reeling. I finally have some answers, a theory that makes sense. I have to pace the room to try and keep up with my thoughts. “And now we know from Rhiannon’s letter that Emrick has been missing, so it’s entirely possible that he set my house on fire and killed my parents.”

“But what’s his motive?” Corin, who has been silent until now, speaks up. “Why would Emrick even want to kill your parents?”

I stop in my tracks. The high from seconds ago has all but disappeared, replaced with the empty hopeless feeling of not knowing.

“Rhiannon wrote the letter as a warning, Corin. Emrick went crazy when Mila’s parents left the Spring Court.” Luna hands him the letter.

I’m having trouble keeping all of this straight. What would I do if I didn’t have some level-headed people with me?

“It has to be Emrick. I’m sure of it. And he’s still out there. Who knows what else he’ll do?”

Rean, looking determined, stands from the couch. He joins, taking my hand in his. He squeezes once. “We’ll find him.”

Luna comes and takes my other hand. Corin stands behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

This is my family. Fierce, protective, loving.

My parents would have loved Rean and Corin too, as they loved Luna.

I feel their presence in the room. A ghost of Papa’s hand on my shoulder, Mum’s on my cheek.

I can’t help the tears that fall, but I feel no sadness. All I can feel is the immense love of my friends, my parents, and my mate.

We can do this. We can track down Emrick and avenge the deaths of my Mum and Papa. This is why Papa warned me, why the letter was brought to us.

“I think we need to pay Rhiannon a visit. If we are going to find Emrick, we need to know more about him and my parents.”

marci’s writing masterlist

multi-chapter fics

Starlight and Ashes (next gen ACOTAR) *WIP*

Masterlist * Summary * Chapter One * Chapter Two * Chapter Three * Chapter Four * Chapter Five

Feyre, Lucien, and the Great Comet of the Spring Court (ACOTAR Great Comet AU)

Prologue * Act I * Act II

ficlets

Mother’s Protection (Elain)

Bitter Pill (Nessian)

Beautiful (Elucien *could also be Elriel. I don’t think I used names*)

Love Me For My Bread (Elriel)

Sunblock (Elucien)

*please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged in my writing

Starlight and Ashes (five)

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Masterlist

Chapter Five

Milena

I can’t say it’s the worst meal I’ve ever had. Everyone is welcoming enough, and the conversation is good, but I can’t help but feel out of place. It almost doesn’t feel real that I’m even here. I keep thinking that any moment I’ll snap out of some daydream and be back in my home above the bakery, sitting down to supper with my parents. But the focus of the dinner talk comes back to me, and I know that this is real.

“I hear that you’ve been reading all the books in the library, Mila,” Christine, Rean’s cousin comments as she passes her father the green beans. Cassian is as much the legendary warrior I expected him to be–based on stories every child in Velaris has heard a dozen times over–and I can see it in his daughter as well. I know my every move is being analyzed by her stormy blue eyes, every word turned over for hints and clues. When Rean and I had first arrived in the House dining room, admittedly a few minutes late, she was the first to rush up and greet me. I could only be grateful that she shook my hand rather than hugging me, as both Feyre and Cassian had done.

“Rean’s been showing me all his favourites.” I take a sip of wine, hoping to ease my tension. I wish that Luna could have made it to the meal, just so I could have something familiar to anchor me. Though she seemed excited about the invitation, she sent a message saying that something came up and she couldn’t make it. Rean’s twin, Corin, also was regretful to miss the meal, but had somewhere important to be, or something. “I haven’t seen any of you around while I’ve been here. Who all lives in the House of Wind?”

“At the moment,” Hana, another of Rean’s cousins, speaks up, “just Corin, Rean, Christine, and I. Valeria and Julian are back at the Illyrian camps for another few months.”

“Valeria and Julian are friends from Illyria,” Rean explains when he notices my confusion. “They’re younger by a couple years and still have to finish their training. Corin and I officially finished a decade ago, and Christine did last year. We all still spend a lot of time in Illyria, though.”

“Well, except me.” Hana throws a golden red braid over her shoulder and smiles. I like Hana right away. She is a stark contrast to Christine, all smiles and jokes and bright eyes. I don’t dislike Christine or anything, I just feel like prey under her all-seeing gaze. Hana feels… safer. But first impressions aren’t everything, I remind myself.

I’m more intimidated by the older males and females at the table than anyone else, but not because they’re trying to be intimidating. Quite the opposite, really. I am sitting in the presence of legends and warriors, yet it doesn’t feel like it at all as they make jokes and tease each other like school children.

“I’m just saying, Rhysie,” Cassian drawls to the High Lord, “you’re not the young male you used to be.” I hadn’t been paying attention to the exchange that led up to this particular statement, but I don’t think I have to have been in order to understand the dynamic. It is certainly not what I ever would have imagined from the most powerful fae in the Night Court, but I can’t say I’m disappointed.

“We’re the same age, Cassie,” Rhysand retorts. I have a feeling this is a common exchange based on the expressions of everyone around me that say not this again. I feel a certain level of pity for Feyre and Nesta, who have been dealing with this for centuries. I send a silent prayer to the Mother to give me as much patience as them as Cassian and Rhysand continue in their squabble.

Rean told me to call everyone by their first names, but it still feels wrong. My mother would have made sure I called everyone by their proper title. Surely she would have scolded me for being so laid back with the leaders of our Court.

Movement out of the corner of my eye pulls my attention from the meal. On a gust of cool wind, a winged male enters from the open balcony, another form in his arms. Not just any form, I realize with relief, but Luna. And the male I recognize as Corin, since he looks almost exactly like Rean. The only difference I can tell is that Corin’s hair is purposely unruly, while Rean’s is always smoothed out as much as he can manage (to little avail, but he tries).

Next to me, Rean rises from his seat. I stand as well, rushing to embrace my friend. Something in her eyes makes me worry, but her returned embrace tells me that she’s fine.

“I thought you couldn’t come.”

“I was freed up at the last minute,” she shrugs.

“Well, I’m glad.” Everyone shifts around the table to make room for the two late-comers. Luna on my other side, and Corin next to Rean. Having Luna here instantly calms me down, and the rest of the meal seems to fly by in enjoyable banter. Somehow, we got on the topic of chocolate. There seems to be a danger of me being kicked out of the Court now, given everyone’s reactions to the discovery that I don’t have much of a taste for the stuff. Rean looked as if I had slapped him across the face. Noted: never bring up a distaste for chocolate to the leaders of the Night Court.

Bellies and hearts full by the end of the night, the number of diners at the table dwindles to just four: Corin, Luna, Rean, and I. Draining the last sip of wine from his glass, Rean stands and offers to fly Luna back to her apartment. But Corin, to my surprise but not disappointment, suggests she spend the night at the House of Wind, claiming that it’s getting late anyway. Luna of course doesn’t protest to spending another few hours in the luxurious House. I can’t say I would turn down the soft bed topped with a down duvet and feather pillow, the courtyard blooming with every type of flower, and certainly not the seemingly endless library, all at my fingertips.

All the things I never had before, and yet I feel it will never be enough.

____________

Rean

Mila clutches my arm. She holds tight wherever we go, and the streets of Velaris are no exception. Even when we enter shops to browse, she stays close at my side. I don’t mind, but I worry about her. She hasn’t spoken much at all about Starfall, not that I’ve asked much anyway. I just don’t want her to bottle everything up, for the fear that she might overflow.

We walk aimlessly through the streets, taking the day away from the House of Wind to go wherever we are taken. We each hold bags on our free arms, filled with candy and trinkets we’ve bought along the way. We have no final destination or goal to worry about.

I lead Milena left at the next street, admiring the trees that line the path in front of the shops and houses.

Mila lets go of my arm, stopping suddenly.

I realize the mistake I have made.

Across the tree-lined street, like a blot of ink on a letter, are the grey, ashy ruins of Mila’s home.

She stares, but her expression reveals no emotion.

Slowly, she sits on the stone curb, pulling her legs under her. Slowly, I sit next to her.

We stare.

We don’t speak for a long while. What can I say?

“When I was a child,” Mila starts, “I was convinced my mother was a healer. The greatest healer in Prythian, even.” She pulls a ring from her finger and fiddles with it as she speaks. “I thought this because every time I got hurt–a splinter in my finger, a scrape on my knee–my mother could instantly make me feel better. She would sit me down on the kitchen table, wipe the tears from my eyes, and tell me to sit very still so she could make the hurt go away.

“Hold still, buttercup, or the magic won’t work,” was what she would always say. Then she would take the injured finger or knee or elbow in her hand and bring it to her lips, leaving the softest of kisses. And it worked every time. I would hop off the table and run back outside to play, the injury forgotten.

“When I got a little older and emotional hurt was more common than physical, she would do the same little healing ritual to cheer me up. Sitting me down on my bed or hers, she would place that same soft kiss on my forehead, and whisper, “I love you, buttercup.” And while it didn’t always work instantly, as some hurts were very deep, I would always feel even just a little bit better than before.

“Of course I know now that she wasn’t a healer, and actually carried very little magic in her blood. I know that it was all in my head. But to a child, a comforting mother is the most powerful healer in Prythian. There was nothing she couldn’t fix.

I long for one of my mother’s healing kisses now more than ever. I need her to make me feel better. But I know that I’ll have to find another way. My mother isn’t here to kiss away my hurt, and it’s that feeling of… finality that makes me hurt the most.” Tears threaten to fall from her green eyes, but she blinks them away. She sniffs once.

It’s my turn to talk. I take a deep breath.

“There used to be another member of our group–our ‘Inner Circle 2.0’. He trained with Corin, Christine, and I at the Illyrian camps. His name was Isaias, and the four of us were inseparable.” Isaias’s laughing face is forever burned into my memory, and I see him now. The deep dimples, the nearly closed hazel eyes, the crooked teeth. I hear his laugh.

“He… struggled a bit with the training. When it came time for the Rite, he insisted on participating with the rest of us. We weren’t about to keep him from doing it, though we all wanted to, and in the end…”

His laugh. His smile. His face.

“In the end he didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not telling you this to turn this into some sort of pity-party. I’m telling you because I know some of what you’re feeling right now. I want you to know that it will get easier. The hurt will fade. It may never go away, but eventually you might go a day without noticing the pain. A week. It will always be a part of you, but with time, you’ll be able to live with it.”

Mila meets my eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers thickly.

“Milena!”

Mila and I both turn to the direction of the voice, coming from the house next to what is now the ruins of Mila’s home. A white-haired male in a blue apron is walking across the street to where Mila and I sit. I assume Mila knows who he is, as she stands up and hugs him in greeting. In a tight-knit community like this one, neighbours are as close as family. Evident by the sign I now notice above his building, this neighbour is a florist. The sign reads El and Al’s Floral Arrangements.

“Mr. Hobkins, I’m glad to see you again.” Mila pulls back from her embrace of the florist, and takes a step closer to me. “This is Rean. I’ve been staying with him in the House of Wind.”

Mr. Hobkins extends a hand for me to shake. “Well I’ll be! We all wondered where you’d gone off to. How’d you end up there, of all places?”

She chuckles nervously, running a hand through her golden hair. “It’s a bit of a long story. I think I’ll stay there for a while though, til things get sorted out.”

Mr. Hobkins looks me in the eye, his brown eyes less warm than they had been a moment ago. “You make sure she’s alright, boy. You look after her.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, leave him be, Mr. Hobkins. Rean’s been nothing but kind. He’s, uh… he’s my mate.” The word coming from her makes my heart skip a beat. Mr Hobkins, on the other hand, looks ready to cry for joy. He pulls Mila in for another hug. Then, to my surprise, pulls me into a warm embrace as well.

“I almost forgot,” he says, dabbing a tear from the corner of his eye, “in all this excitement it slipped my mind entirely. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know. My memory’s not quite so good.”

“What is it?”

He reaches into the pocket of his apron, producing from it a letter marked with a green seal. “This letter was meant for your house, but ended up at mine. I thought you’d like to have it, so as soon as I saw you sitting out here, I ran and got it. I’ve had it since the day of the accident.” The florist tears up again, but I know this time it’s not for joy. He must have been very close with Mila’s parents.

Mila inspects the letter. I’m not sure if it’s the letter or Mr. Hobkins, but there is a faint scent of roses in the air. I have a feeling it’s the former, since I didn’t notice the scent before he took the letter out.

“It’s addressed to my mother, but I don’t recognize the sender. Do you know who Rhiannon Moss is?”

“I haven’t a clue,” the florist shrugs. “I figured you’d want to read whatever was in it though. And I suppose I should leave you to it. Don’t be a stranger, Milena. Come visit me and El anytime.”

Mila pulls her attention from the writing on the envelope. “Thank you so much, Mr. Hobkins.”

“I think I should open this at the House of Wind,” she says once he’s back inside. “I feel like whatever is in this letter might give a clue to what happened to my parents.”

Feyre, Lucien, and the Great Comet of the Spring Court–Act II

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Prologue * Act I * Act II

Act II

Lucien

I write a letter to Tamlin, though I know he won’t answer. He hasn’t answered my letters in months.

Dear old friend,

How is Hybern? Do you make progress with the king? I wish I was there, with death at my heels, making a difference in the world.

I hear that Cassian is recovering. He will be alright, the good man.

And Feyre is in the Spring Court. I have not yet seen her, but I hear your bride-to-be is full of life. I should visit. I hear she has grown more beautiful, more clever. I greatly envy you and your happiness.

This will be my last letter to him if he chooses not to answer again.

____________

Feyre

I can’t stop thinking about Rhysand and our night at the ball. What am I to tell Tamlin? Do I tell him at all?

I must write him a letter, I decide. I sit down at the desk in my room and begin to write.

Dear Tamlin,

What more can I write after what has happened? What do I do if I love him, but also love another? I must be a terrible person to be unfaithful.

Maybe if I look at the candle in the mirror again, it will give me a sign. Elain said it would show me my future, so it’s worth a try.

I arrange my mirrors as Elain did, and holding my candle, peer into my reflection.

I see nothing but the candle. No coffin, no man–standing or lying. No visions of the future. I feel so lost. What am I to do?

I need to take my mind off of it. I notice an unread letter on my desk. A letter, I find, that is from the Lady of Autumn.

I open it and hold it to the candlelight.

Dear Feyre,

I’m in deep despair at the misunderstanding there is between us.

Whatever my husband’s feelings might be, I beg you to believe that I cannot stop thinking about you, and that I want to know you. My husband is a tired old man, and you must forgive him. Please, come see us again.

I take out a fresh piece of parchment, and begin my reply.

My Lady,

What do I write? They were so awful to me, but do they deserve another chance? I would do it for Tamlin, but am I even meant to be with him? So many terrible questions.

A letter from Rhysand appears in front of me. So many letters in a single night, I think I might go crazy. I open his letter anyway.

Feyre darling, I must love you or die.

Feyre darling, if you love me, say yes, and I will come and steal you away, steal you to the dark.

Feyre darling, I want nothing more.

Just say yes.

Yes, I love him. I’ve decided it. How else could I have his letter in my hand? I read it again, savouring each word. I read it twenty times, thirty times, forty times. Each and every word. Yes, I love him.

I fall asleep with his letter in my hand.

____________

“Feyre, tell me isn’t true.” I wake at my sister’s voice. “It can’t be that you love him, it can’t be. Feyre–”

“Elain, you’re back!” I embrace my sister. But noticing the look on her face, I know why she has woken me. “Elain! You’ve read the letter!”

She nods, unable to look me in the eye.

“Oh, I’m glad, I can’t hide it any longer! Now you know we love one another. Oh Elain, he writes and writes! If you only knew how happy I am… you don’t know what love is!”

“And what of Tamlin?”

“I don’t understand…”

“Are you refusing him?”

“Oh, You don’t understand anything, Elain! Don’t talk nonsense, just listen!”

“No, I don’t understand, Feyre! You’ve only known him three days!”

Has it only been three days? It feels like I’ve loved him for a hundred years. It feels like I’ve never loved anyone before–not like this. I have no will, my life is his. I’ll do anything he wants me to. “What can I do, Elain? Why can’t you understand that I love him?”

“I won’t let it come to that, Feyre. I’ll tell Ianthe. I won’t let you ruin everything for us.” She bursts into tears, which only fuels my anger.

“What do you mean, for cauldron’s sake? If you tell her you will be my enemy! Do you want me to be miserable by tearing us apart?” I take her hands in mine. “Please, Elain,” I beg, “don’t tell anyone! I have confided in you, you can’t betray me like this!”

She pulls her hands from mine and reaches for the letters. “What has he said to you?” Her brows furrow as she scans the letters. She looks furious. “Why doesn’t he come here and properly ask for your hand? Why this secrecy? Have you thought of what he may be trying to hide, Feyre?”

“I don’t know his reasons, and I don’t care to. Elain, I can’t doubt him.”

She sighs. “Does he love you?”

“Does he love me? Well, you’ve read his letters! Of course he loves me, you can see it in every word.” I take the letters from her, cradling them against my heart.

“Feyre,” she pleads, “think of this family. Think of Tamlin.”

“Tamlin said I was free to refuse him,” I counter.

“But you haven’t refused him,” she pauses, “or have you?”

“Perhaps I have. Perhaps it’s all over between me and Tamlin.” I sigh and look at her with my best doe eyes. “Would you think so badly of me?”

“I won’t fall for your tone, Feyre,” she snaps, “I don’t trust him! And I’m afraid you’re going to your ruin!”

“Then I’ll go to my ruin!” I shout, “Yes, I will! As soon as possible! It’s not your business, so leave me alone. Just leave me alone!” Elain flinches at my words, but I don’t stop. “I hate you, Elain! I hate you, and you are my enemy forever!” She bursts into sobs and runs from the room, the door left wide open behind her.

Without a moment to reflect, I write the letter to the Lady of Autumn I’d been unable to write all morning.

All our misunderstandings are at an end. Forget everything, and forgive me.

But I can’t be Tamlin’s wife.

____________

Cassian

The plan to take Feyre to the Night Court had all been arranged and the preparations made.

This was how it would go:

Feyre would be on her balcony at sunset, and Rhys, Az, and I would swoop in and take her away. We would fly to the edge of the Night Court, where a priestess will be waiting to make them get wed. Then we fly the rest of the way to Velaris, where Rhys and Feyre will live the rest of their days in happiness.

We are all gathered at the Spring Court Inn, drinking and waiting for sunset. Rhys paces the floor, his shirt unbuttoned and wings out. He walks to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. It’s making me dizzy. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol.

“Rhys, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Shut up, Cassian, of course it is. I love her and she loves me.”

“Then why are you pacing?”

The door to the inn opens, Rhys’ attention going to whoever walks in. When I see the look on his face, I turn to see who it is too.

Lucien Vanserra. I roll my eyes and go back to my drink.

“Rhysand,” he says. Then, noticing the luggage and papers strewn about, “leaving Spring so soon? Where are you off to?”

“Ah, Fox-boy,” Rhysand drawls, and I chuckle at the nickname. “Tonight, I go away on an adventure. I doubt we will be seeing each other for a while. I have found a new love, and I’m taking her away with me. I’ll send you a letter from Velaris.”

“Ha!” Lucien laughs. “But Rhysand, are you not already married?”

“You watch your tongue,” I snap.

“But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re married to Amarantha.”

“What would you know of marriages, Vanserra?”

Lucien doesn’t answer.

“And it doesn’t matter, anyway,” Rhys, continues, “because I will make sure that no one else knows about my past. I trust that you will keep this to yourself.”

“It’s time to go, Rhys,” I say, standing up. It is nearly sunset, and Azriel will be waiting outside.

“Goodbye, Fox-boy! Raise a glass for me!” Rhys calls back as we leave the inn.

As I expected Azriel is outside the inn, waiting at the nearby treeline. He is cloaked in shadow, his wings looming behind him.

“Let’s go,” Rhys says before summoning his wings and taking off. Azriel and I follow.

When we reached the gate of the Manor, I whistled. The whistle was heard by a servant, who, after being bribed, agreed to open the gate for us. Az and I stayed by the gate, Rhysand followed the servant into the courtyard and up to the house.

“You will not enter this house, scoundrel!” Ianthe appears in the doorway.

“Rhysand,” I call, “come back! We’ve been betrayed!”

Azriel, Rhysand, and I flee, back to the safety of the inn.

____________

Feyre

“You shameless, good-for-nothing girl,” Ianthe spits. She paces my room, furious with me. Elain stands in the doorway, unable to look at me. “Have you lost your mind? Running away with the High Lord of the Night Court from the house of your betrothed… you vile, shameless girl!”

I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off. “Don’t you say one word! There is nothing you could say to save yourself from what you have done.”

My body begins to shake with noiseless, convulsive sobs. Everything is ruined. Ianthe brings her hand to my arm, but I jerk away. “Don’t touch me! Just let me be!”

She is growing more agitated with every moment. “What are we to tell your father? The other High Lords? Tamlin? What do we tell your betrothed?”

“I have no betrothed,” I declare, “I have refused him.”

“Feyre,” Elain cries, “just stop!” She reaches out to me as Ianthe did, and I give her the same treatment.

“Don’t touch me!”

“If he had succeeded in carrying you off, don’t you think Tamlin would have found him?” Elain asks. ”Rhysand is a monster!”

“He is better than any of you!” I say. “Why did you have to interfere, Elain?” She tries to speak, but I don’t want to hear it. “Just go away! Everyone go away.” Ianthe too tries to speak again, but I cry out. “Go away! You all hate and despise me!” and I throw myself down on my bed.

“Feyre!” Ianthe shouts, but I do not respond. She finally gives in and leaves, Elain following behind her.

I do not sleep that night. I sit at the window, waiting for Rhysand, but he never comes.

____________

Lucien

I knock hesitantly on the door of the manor. Ianthe did not sound happy in the letter she sent, asking me to come see her immediately. I have a feeling something terrible has happened, but I can’t figure out what. Perhaps Tamlin is being delayed again, and won’t be coming home as soon as we had hoped.

A servant opens the door and directs me to the drawing room, where Ianthe is waiting. She paces the floor, wringing her hands, her eyebrows drawn. She notices I’ve arrived, and walk toward me, pulling me into a quick embrace. “Lucien,” she says, “I’m sorry it’s late. I haven’t seen you around in many days, where have you been?”

“I have been… studying.”

“Lucien, we need your help–Tamlin and the entire Court need your help. There is ruin at the door.”

“Ianthe, what is–”

“Feyre has broken with Tamlin.”

“What?”

“Feyre has tried to run away.”

“It can’t be! She would never–”

“She has tried to run away with Rhysand.”

I sit down, unable to believe my ears. Rhysand, that prick, wasn’t joking when he said he was in love with Feyre. Ianthe sits next to me.

“Tamlin will kill him, and surely start a war. We must get Rhysand to return to the Night Court before Tamlin comes home.”

“I’ll go talk to him at once.”

But where would I find Rhysand? I check the inn, but it is empty. Perhaps at the bar.

All is going on as usual when I arrive. Everyone is gossiping in small groups, and in my search, I hear snippets of what they are saying. “Have you heard of Rhysand’s abduction?” “Is it true?” “Feyre is ruined!”

“Nonsense,” I snap, “nothing has happened! Everything is fine.” They do nothing but lower their voices when I pass closely by.

I find Rhysand at the end of the bar, muttering Feyre’s name under his breath. He looks like death. “Rhysand,” I clap him on the shoulder. “Come, I must speak to you.” I lead him to a private room. He follows with his usual confident step, but his face betrays anxiety. I close the door and address him without looking at him. “You prepared to take Feyre away to the Night Court, is that so?”

“I don’t consider myself bound to answer questions put to me in that tone,” he says indignantly. Classic Rhysand, ever the arrogant fool. I don’t have the time to deal with him like this. The well-being of my friend is in serious jeopardy because of his selfish, stupid actions.

My face, already pale, becomes distorted by fury. I seize him by the collar and push him against the wall. “Listen to me, Rhysand! When I tell you I must talk to you–”

“Come now, fox-boy, this is stupid!” I only push him harder. We both know he could stop me in an instant without so much as a thought.

“You’re a scoundrel and a blackguard, and I don’t know what deprives me of the pleasure of smashing your head in right now.”

“We both know you couldn’t if you tried.” He pushes me away now, but doesn’t make an attempt to leave. I recompose myself, but I’m still seething. He is not going off the hook for this, not on my watch.

“First, do you have any letters of hers?” He reluctantly pulls a package of letters out of his pocket and hands them over. His name is scrawled across the top of each one in the neat handwriting of a rich merchant’s daughter, the stack tied together neatly with a black ribbon. “Second, tonight, you must leave the Spring Court.” He nods. “Third, you must never breathe a word of what has happened between you and Feyre.” He sits down now, and sighs deeply.

“Lucien, she’s my mate.”

I pace the room several times in silence. He watches me.

“You must understand, Rhysand, that there is such a thing as other people, and their happiness and peace. And that you are ruining a whole life for the sake of… amusing yourself.”

“I’m not just amusing myself, Lucien. She wanted to come with me. She doesn’t want to stay here”

“Just promise me you’ll leave. You can’t be here when Tamlin returns, and he will return.”

He sighs, but nods. Satisfied, I leave him.

____________

Elain

Dear Tamlin,

Feyre is very ill. The whole house is in a state of alarm and commotion.

I don’t know if Ianthe has written to you yet, but Feyre has been unfaithful. If not for Ianthe, she would be in the Night Court right now with Rhysand, who has attempted to kidnap her. Rhysand and his ‘entourage’ have returned to the Night Court without her, thankfully.

But unfortunately, Feyre, seemingly heartbroken, poisoned herself in the night. She woke me in the middle of the night and told me what she had done. The healers came with the antidote, and now she is out of danger, but still so weak.

Please return to the Spring Court at once.

We wait for Tamlin to return with dread. He will surely challenge Rhysand to a duel, and get himself killed, and all will be ruined.

____________

Lucien

Tamlin is back in the Spring Court, and the first thing he does is not visit Feyre, who is dreadfully ill, but visits me. He appeared in my doorway, stone-faced and emotionless. I brought him into the library to sit.

“Well,” he says after settling, “how are you?”

I don’t answer. He knows how I am. Or at least he would, if he read my letters. “You look grim,” I remark.

“I’ve been away too long, but I am well. It’s good to see you.”

We sit in silence for a few long moments. The ticking clock on the wall is the only sound.

“Forgive me for troubling you, old friend. I received a refusal from Feyre, and I have heard reports of Rhysand having… asked for her hand, or something of that kind. Is this true?”

“Something of that kind.”

He avoids meeting my eyes, and reaches into his coat pocket. “Here are her letters. Please give them to her.” He begins to stand up to leave.

“Feyre is ill. She has been at death’s door.”

“I much regret her illness.” He smiles like my father–coldly, maliciously. “Well,” he continues to the door, “forgive me for bothering you.”

“You told me once,” I call after him, “that all people should be given the chance to be forgiven.”

“But I didn’t say that I could forgive.” He puts his hand on the doorknob. “I can’t. If you wished to remain my friend, you would be on my side, and never speak of that again.”

I know I can’t be on his side in this. I am on nobody’s side.

“Well, goodbye.” He spares me a final glance before closing the door behind him.

I remain seated until I can no longer hear the roaring in my ears.

I decide that I am going to visit Feyre. She must feel so lonely, so despised. She deserves to have someone comfort her. I put on my heavy coat and go to the manor, where she will be staying at just until she gets better. Then she will be returned to her home in the Mortal Lands, or so Ianthe has said.

I find Feyre standing in the middle of the art gallery, with a pale, yet steady face. When I appeared in the doorway, she grew flustered, and I hurried to her. It looked like she was about to give me her hand, but instead she stopped, leaving her too-thin arms hanging at her sides.

“Lucien Vanserra,” she says distantly, her face remaining blank.

“Just Lucien.”

“Tamlin was your friend,” she says, seemingly to herself. “He once told me that I should turn to you.”

I sniff, holding back tears. What has happened to the charming, clever girl I once saw? Until now, I had blamed her for what had happened. Despised her for hurting Tamlin. But now, and especially after my visit with Tam, I can only pity her.

“He is here now, isn’t he?”

I nod.

“Please… tell him to forgive me. For everything.”

“I will tell him,” I assure her. “Just answer me one thing.” She meets my eyes now, and I’m taken aback by how clear and understanding her grey eyes are, considering her demeanor. “Did you love him? Did you love Rhysand?”

“I did… I do.” She begins to cry, and my heart overflows with pity for this poor mortal girl.

“We won’t talk about him anymore. Just promise me something, Feyre. Promise me that you will consider me your friend, and if you ever need help, or just someone to talk to, you’ll think of me.”

She smiles, just a bit, for the first time since I arrived. “Why are you being so kind to me? I’m not worth it. I am an ungrateful, lying piece of–”

“Stop, Feyre. Don’t speak about yourself like that. This isn’t the end of your happiness, you have a whole life in front of you.”

“No, Lucien. All is over for me.”

All over? Is this all it takes for your life to be made meaningless? It is far from fair. Feyre deserves to get to still live a full, happy life, unlike the life I’ve lived.

“If,” I start, then stop myself, then start again. “If I were not… myself, but the brightest, handsomest, best male in Prythian, and if I were free, then I would marry you myself.”

She begins to weep. Not tears of sadness, I can see from her face, but tears of gratitude. Tears of thanks. She nods, and leaves the room smiling. Restraining my own tears that threaten to fall, I too turn and leave the room. I leave the gallery, the hall, the marble floors, the stone steps, all of it, behind me.

Where can I go now? I can’t stay in Spring, I can’t go back to Autumn. All of Prythian, all of life itself, feels pitiful–prude, even–compared the the final, grateful last glance Feyre gave me through her tears.

Night has fallen, and the air outside is cool. A breeze rustles the leaves in the trees, carrying with it a faint perfume of roses from Tamlin’s garden.

I look up at the dark, starry sky.

And there, I see it. In the middle of the sky, surrounded and sprinkled on all sides by stars, a great comet–a brilliant comet, shooting through the dark.

It is said that the comet was followed by a war that brought untold horrors, and the end of the world as we know it. But for me, the comet brings no tears. No, I gaze joyfully at this bright, amazing star, which, tracing its path across the sky, seems to have stopped just for me. Like an arrow piercing my heart.

It seems to me that this comet feels me; feels my softened and uplifted soul, and my newly melted heart, now blossoming into a new and sweeter life.

____________

Dear Feyre,

I hear you have been reunited with the High Lord of the Night Court, and that you are happily mated. I’m glad that you have found happiness with him, and I congratulate you on your position as High Lady.

I have found happiness too. As you know, I left Prythian behind me to travel the world, and I’m now living with some people you may know—Jurian and Vassa. For the first time in many years, I am truly and utterly happy.

I of course have heard news of a brewing war, and I want you to know that I will aid in any way I can. I will support you, Feyre, though I didn’t before when I should have.

I want to ask you to forgive me for trying to keep you and Rhysand apart. I of all people should know what that can do to a person.

Forever your friend,

Lucien

Could you do a fix based on the song bitter pill by Gavin james for all the folks living in the nessian trashcan please?

It’s short, but I thought that kept to the nature of the song anyway. I hope you enjoy the angst! (also, thank you for bringing my attention to this song! I’ve been listening to the entire album nonstop for days)

tags: @lady-katkat @rkjar1646 @mariamuses @hxghlady @runesandfaes @lorcanswife @wolffrising @faelightsstarfall @acourtofredqueens @halcyon-havoc @highlady-of-night @my-ships-will-never-be-sank @musicmaam @starzablaze @abimomeopectore @rhysand-darling @alexisnm95 @destiny14444 @leulivy @ame233

I shouldn’t be here.

He’s not going to want to see me. Not after what I said today.

I’ve always been cold and dismissive toward the Illyrian, masking any interest with hatred. Every time he got close, I would push him back even further. I lived in fear of letting him in.

Until today, he was always left a bit of hope of a chance. He had begun to take my reactions to his advancements as entertainment, and it had become a sort of game. A game that I hated, of course, but a game all the same.

All until now. I block out the memory of what I said–the harsh, blunt, scathing speech that left any hope he had remaining in broken pieces. I went too far, and now he won’t come back.

I can’t bring myself to leave, though. I continue to pace outside his bedroom door, not willing to go, but not willing to knock.

What is he doing behind this door? Is he as broken up as I am, realizing that the walls are coming crashing in, and he’s out of power to stop it? I picture him on the edge of his bed, dark wings spread out behind him, dragging his fingers through his hair. I picture the room around him in ruins, not safe from his… what, rage? Heartbreak?

No.

He’s probably sleeping in peace, having forgotten that I even exist. He’s over me–I told him to be.

It’s like we were a house, and I broke down the final beam keeping the roof over our heads. We are left out in the cold. Even the foundations seem to have eroded away, now. Can we be rebuilt?

I stop pacing and stare at the wood of his door, wishing I could see inside. If I only knew what he was doing, how he was reacting, I could know what to do. I could try to repair what I destroyed.

I’m done waiting out here, not knowing what he’s thinking. I have to do something, I decide.

Before I can change my mind, I knock three quick times on the door. Schooling my expression into icy cool, I wait for it to open.

I hear a small shuffle on the other side, a quiet groan, and finally, the door opens.

Cassian’s face is completely blank for the first time I’ve ever seen. He always wears his thoughts on his expression, and that’s how I know how to interact. But there’s nothing for me to work with.

I don’t know how to feel, so I settle with anger. My heart beats fast and hard in my chest, and everything feels suddenly too hot.

“Look,” I snarl, “I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’m done, Nesta.” He starts to close the door, and suddenly panicked, I stop it with my foot.

“Cassian, please.” My mask of anger drops, and I don’t bother putting it on again.“I’m sorry that I came so late. I’m sorry that I’ve pushed and pushed you away, so much that you didn’t come back.” Now that the words have started, I can’t make them stop. Everything I never said comes out in one desperate speech. “You said once that your greatest regret in life was that we didn’t have time, but mine is that I didn’t give it to you. I know you deserve better than what I’ve been, Cassian. And I’m going to change.”

Cassian shakes his head in exasperation. “You don’t get it Nes.” I cringe slightly at the nickname out of habit. “I don’t want you to change. That has never been my goal. I want you, and I want you to want me without guilt or shame or obligation.”

“I do want you, Cassian. I want you. I didn’t realize it–didn’t accept it–until you were gone. Until I didn’t even have the option of turning you away anymore.” The anger returns now, only this time at myself.

Cassian sighs, the hard lines of his face softening. “Just… let me sleep on it.” He closes the door again, and this time I don’t stop it.

But I can’t help but feel hollow, standing alone in the hall.

Starlight and Ashes (four)

tagging: @runesandfaes @acourtofredqueens @havilliardandgalathynius @fiery-feyre @starzablaze @tog-trash @evyfox @rhysands-highlady @ame233 @high-lady-of-rochambeau @musicmaam @empress-ofbloodshed @rkjar1646 @literarynonsense@thisisvelaris @wolffrising @rhysand-darling @throne-of-wingspans @hail-and-farewell @evalin–ashryver–galathynius @destiny14444 @the-dream-team-of-prythian @avocadobubletea @lorcanswife @hxylady @abillionlittlepieces @my-life-is-a-drama-book @akranick-author @lottie289 @eternally-reading @leulivy @booklover242 @heyme231 @whydoyoucareaboutmyusername @my-ships-will-never-be-sank @rhysisdaddyaf @highladyjel @halcyon-havoc @alexisnm95 @a-canadian-fae **please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged in future chapters**

Another early chapter! This one was so much fun to write. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Chapter Four

Rean

“How is she doing?” my brother asks me as I enter his room. I plop down on the end of his unmade bed.

“Better. I think she’s more comfortable here now, and she’s enjoying all the reading.” I run my hand through my hair, trying to tidy the seemingly untameable mess. Corin rocks the bedhead look, but I like to put at least a little effort in looking clean.

Corin sits up and looks at me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Did you just go on a flight?”

I sigh. “I needed some time to clear my mind. I feel like I’m doing this all wrong.”

“But you said she was doing better.”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe she’s just ignoring her feelings, burying them in books. Is that what’s supposed to happen? What do you even do for someone who just lost both their parents?” Corin moves so he’s sitting next to me. I lean my head on his shoulder. “What can I do?”

“You should get her interacting with more people–people who understand what she’s going through. Mom and Dad could help, I know.”

“I’m taking her to the city to visit her friend today. Should we all have supper together tonight?”

“By ‘we all’ you mean…”

“You and me, Mom and Dad. Maybe Christine and Hana, too? Then we might as well invite Cass and Nes. That’s everyone that’s here in Velaris. And we could invite Mila’s friend… I think her name is Luna?”

“Talk to Mila about it. I think it would be good for her. When are you going to the city?”

I glance at the clock on his night stand. “Now,” I say, getting up. “Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime, brother. See you at supper!”

I close Corin’s bedroom door behind me and make my way toward Milena’s room, not too far down the hall.

“Rean!” I turn at my father’s voice, and wait for him to catch up to me. “Where are you off to?”

“I’m taking Milena to see her friend… what are you doing here?”

“Am I not allowed to be in my own house?” he laughs.

“No, it’s just you’re usually–”

“I’m teasing. I came to talk to your brother. I’ll be back at the townhouse in an hour and be out of your way, don’t worry.” He bumps his elbow on my arm. “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you in front of your mate.”

I roll my eyes. “Actually, I was planning on us all having supper together tonight. I just have to make sure with Milena, who hasn’t even accepted the bond yet, Dad.” He laughs and puts his hands up in a fake surrender.

“Supper sounds nice. It’ll be good to finally meet her. I can judge if she’s truly worthy of my precious little boy,” he says, ruffling my hair. We’re in front of Mila’s door now.

“Dad!”

“I’m going!” He laughs all the way back to Corin’s room.

Sighing, I knock on Mila’s door and ease it open. She is sitting in the armchair we had brought up, reading a book, as usual. Her slippered feet are tucked under her, and she wears an oversized sweater and leggings. Even from the door, I can tell that her hair hasn’t been washed in days. She tells me that she is feeling better, but it sure doesn’t look like it.

She looks up from her book and smiles, and my heart skips a beat.

“Are you ready to go?”

Her smile falters a little, but she stands up and puts away her book. I use my magic to summon jackets for both of us, and hand one to her. It’s warm here in the House of Wind, but it’s still Winter in the rest of the Court.

She takes my arm, as always she does when we go somewhere. It’s almost as if she’s afraid of letting me out of her sight.

“I’m excited to see Luna,” she sighs. “But I’m also nervous. Should I feel nervous?” Her green eyes stare straight ahead, wide and a little unfocused. I tell myself she’s just tired.

“It’s okay to feel nervous,” I assure her. “There’s a lot for you two to talk about.”

“I’m going to tell her we’re mates. I’m excited for that.” It’s impossible for me to hold back my smile. We’ve only each other known for less than a week, and already I can’t imagine a life without Mila–without my mate.

“I was thinking,” I start, “how would you feel about having supper with some of my family tonight?” Her hand tightens slightly on my arm. “It’ll be casual, and I promise we can leave whenever you want.”

She takes a deep breath. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Who will be there?”

We’re on the balcony now, and summon my wings and lift Mila into my arms. I wait until we’ve leveled out in the sky and the wind has died down to answer her. “My brother and parents, my aunt and uncle–Nesta and Cassian–and two of my cousins.” She nods. “We can invite Luna, if you want.”

Her face instantly lights up.“Yes, I’ll ask her! She’ll be so excited.”

The wind rips through her hair, leaving strands of gold across her face, which is turning red in the cold. Seeing her mussed like this–the way I so often am–makes her even more beautiful, though I didn’t think it was possible. She shakes her head to get her hair out of her face.

“So, where exactly does Luna live?” I ask. “Am I even going in the right direction?”

“She lives right by the library. I’m not exactly sure how to navigate through the sky.”

“I know where to go.” I veer left, and within five minutes, we’re there. I set Mila down on the ground, and she heads in the direction of one of the apartment buildings that line the street.

Despite her jacket, Mila shivers a little as we walk. I take her hand when we reach the entrance of the building. “I’m going to go take care of some things in town, so when you want me to come back, just give a little shout down the bond.”

“You can come too, if you want. You don’t have to leave.”

My heart breaks a little at my mate’s generous heart. “I want to give you some time with your friend, but let me know when I should come back. I’d love to meet her.” I kiss her cheek and take back to the skies before she can try to change my mind. Only after I’m well into the clouds to I realize–I just kissed her again. It felt like such a natural thing to do, I didn’t even think about it.

I hope she isn’t upset.

___________

Milena

I still feel the ghost of his lips on my cheek as I climb the stairs to Luna’s apartment. I don’t think he even meant to do it, but I’m glad he did.

Before I know it, I’m standing in front of Luna’s door. Taking a deep breath and mustering up my remaining strength, I knock.

She doesn’t answer right away, and I wonder if she’s even here. What was her schedule? Did she have a class today? Maybe she crashed another lecture?

I knock again, and just before I’m about to give up and call Rean to come get me, the door opens.

At the sight of my friend–her familiar dark hair, her smile, the scent of chocolate, whatever emotions I’ve been holding back for the last four days suddenly come breaking to the surface, and as much as I try to hold it together, I burst into sobs. Luna is instantly there, hugging me, pushing the hair back from my face, wiping my tears.

“Mila,” she murmurs. “I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”

She steers me into the apartment and sits me down on her couch. The tears have all but stopped now, and I take a few deep breaths again to steady myself. Luna sits in the chair across from me on the other side of the coffee table, which is piled with open books. She must have been studying.

Luna’s dark eyes are a fiery furnace, and her hands are clenched at her sides. “I’ll kill whoever did this to you. I swear it–I’ll kill them.”

“I know.” I say automatically. Then I make sense of what she just said. “Wait, you think someone did this on purpose?”

“You don’t? Mila, what else could it have been? Your parents wouldn’t have let an accident like that just happen. They’ve put out small fires in the bakery before–they know what to do.”

“I guess I just hadn’t really thought about it. Why would someone want to hurt my parents?”

“You have to admit you don’t know much about their past. They never told you or anyone much about their lives in the Spring Court. They completely broke any old ties.”

I jump at a sudden realization, and Luna’s brows shoot up in confusion. “That’s not true! I remember, Mum used to write letters. I don’t know who they were addressed to, but I know they were going to Spring.”

“If we can find one of these letters,” Luna stands up and paces the room, “we can write to whoever this person in the Spring Court is and get some information.” She stops and looks at me. “Where can we find one?”

“There might still be one at the post office, if it hasn’t been sent yet. I can get Rean to check right now.”

Luna’s jaw drops. “Wait, say that again. Did you say ‘Rean’? As in Prince Rean?”

I wince, just a little bit. I planned on telling her in some big special way, but this will work too. “Prince Rean is my mate…”

“WHAT? Mila, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I was going to, but then, you know…”

Realization flashes across her features, deep and burning. “I’m sorry, of course.” She sits next to me on the couch and puts a comforting arm around me. “Did you accept the bond?”

“We’re taking things slow. Or at least, we’re trying to.”

“But you can mind-speak with him? You said you were going to ask him to find the letter…”

“He’s daemati,” I think back to what he explained to me that first night. I know I heard him, but I wasn’t really listening. “He set up a sort of bridge between our minds–not as strong as an accepted bond, but enough that I can talk to him if I need to. I didn’t want to be alone.”

“He sounds very kind. You’re going to introduce us, right?”

“I was planning on calling him over here at some point during our visit. Do you want him to come now?”

“Yes! I need to make sure he’s worthy of my friend.”

I reach down the bond again. Luna wants to meet you.

I sense his amusement, then hear his voice in my head. I’m on my way.

“Don’t be too harsh on him,” I say, turning my attention back to Luna. “He’s a little awkward at first, but a charming kind of awkward–if that makes sense.”

“Oh,” she nods sarcastically, “perfect sense.” She stands back up and walks to the kitchen, which is technically in the same room, just along the back wall. “I’ll make us some tea.”

“Tea sounds lovely,” I sigh, leaning back on the cushions. It’s only been less than a week since I last saw her, but I’ve missed Luna. I’ve missed this apartment, cluttered as it is. I’ve missed the sense of familiarity. “Oh, Lu, can I borrow some clothes? Just until I can buy some more.”

“Yeah,” she calls from the sink, “take whatever you want. Even my favourites.”

“You’re a gem,” I call back, heading into her bedroom.

By the time I come back to the living room with a bag full of clothes, a soft knock sounds at the door. I rush to open it before Luna can.

“Rean,” she exclaims, “come on in, have a seat! Let’s chat over some tea.”

We spend the better part of the afternoon chatting around Luna’s coffee table. Rean survived Luna’s neverending list of questions, but I could feel that he was getting anxious at some points. Luna is a sweetheart, but she can also be intimidating, especially when it comes to looking after her friends. I could tell that she was happy with him, though. We also invited her for supper at the House of Wind, and she nearly burst with excitement. I could hardly make out a word she was saying.

Before we left, Luna pulled Rean aside and said something that I couldn’t hear. Rean’s face turned red, and he nodded and stumbled over his words. I’m glad to have a friend that loves me so much she would threaten a prince.

“That was actually very fun,” Rean comments as we fly back to the House of Wind. “It’s only fair that you meet my family now, though,” he teases. The wind tousles his dark hair, mussing it again, and I know it’s going to annoy him. I’ve learned by now that he likes to keep it neat, but usually to no avail. I reach up and run my fingers through the black curls, smoothing them back into place. His arms tighten around me slightly.

“I didn’t think I was ready to meet your family, but I’m excited now. Thank you for coming, by the way. I know Luna can be…”

“Scary?”

I hit his chest with my fist, and he chuckles. I feel it in my entire body. “I was going to say protective… caring.”

“And a little scary.”

I sigh and shift the bag of clothes in my arms. “Hey, I don’t have to dress up for supper, do I?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “We’re pretty laid back. You could wear a bathrobe, for all they would care.” I only nod.

When I get back to my room, I plop down on the middle of the bed, and let out a long sigh. Today has been a long day, but it’s not over yet. I know I’ll have both Rean and Luna there with me, but the thought of supper with so many people makes me a little anxious.

But it will be good, I know. This will potentially be my new family, so while I am anxious, I’m even more excited.

Starlight and Ashes (three)

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surprise! posting a little early this week. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

Chapter Three

Milena

I barely feel the cold stone, barely feel the impact as I sink to my knees.

My home, everything I’ve ever known, is up in flames. Parts of the building are brick, so it is standing, but everything else is… gone. It’s all gone.

I suddenly realize that my parents might have been inside and might not have gotten out, and scramble to my feet, sprinting toward the burning building. The smoke in the air burns my lungs, stings my eyes.

Someone grabs my arm before I get too far, and I turn to see Rean, his face frantic, violet eyes wide.

“Mila, you can’t go in there,” he tells me.

“My parents might be in there!”

He looks behind my shoulder. “No,” he says, “they’re not.” He points to the building across the street from the bakery, where a group of fae are gathered around a pair of stretchers.

I hadn’t even noticed all the other fae here. Those with water manipulation abilities are putting out the flames, while healers tend to the victims–my parents.

I’m at the stretchers in an instant, hardly seeing anything through the tears that won’t stop flowing. Someone pulls a sheet over one of the forms on the stretchers–my mother, I recognize–and I frantically try to stop them. “Stop,” I scream, “that’s my mum!”

“Mila,” I hear a voice rasp.

I turn to him. “Papa.” His skin is burned so bad I hardly recognize him. “Papa, what happened?” I kneel by the stretcher, careful to stay out of the way of the healer. I’m afraid I’ll cause him more pain if I touch him, though I desperately want to hug him.

“Em…” he’s trying to tell me, but he’s fading.

“Papa, it’s ok. I love you.”

“Emrick Maddox,” he manages.

What does that mean? Is it a person?

“Is that who did this?” I’m so confused.

My father doesn’t answer. His eyes are closed, and while his chest is still moving, it’s slowing down. He’s dying. I take his hand now, and hold it to my heart. “I love you,” I whisper.

His chest stops moving. I scream.

____________

Distantly, I hear Rean speaking to me. I still clutch my father’s hand in mine, unable to leave his side. I half feel Rean rubbing circles on my back, kneeling on the stone street next to me.

“… back to the House of Wind.” I catch the last part of whatever he just said to me, and I’m pulled back out of my thoughts.

“What?” It comes out more of a croak than an actual word.

“I said, we should get you back to the House of Wind.” His voice is soft, soothing. Pitying.

“I don’t want to leave them.” My voice is barely more than a whisper.

I look at him now and see him fighting back tears as well. “They’re not here, Mila.” He pulls me against his chest and I realize I’m shaking. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers into my hair.

Rean stands and lifts me into his arms, and I bury my face in his neck. I want this all to go away, for it to be just me and Rean and nothing else.

____________

Rean flew us back to the House of Wind and set me up in one of its many rooms. He told me this one was right next to his, so if I need anything, all I have to do is tug the bond. The bond.

Call me a terrible person, a terrible daughter, but right now, Rean is the only thing I want to think about.

He’s my mate.

I have a mate.

And my parents aren’t here to know it.

Was it really just hours ago that I stood in my living room with both of my parents, instead of lying in an unknown bed, unable to sleep? Was it hours ago that my mother fixed my hair and laced my gown, and my father twirled me around and taught me how to waltz? It feels like a lifetime, like time is moving too fast and two slow all at once.

After hours of laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, I fall into a fitful sleep.

____________

I wake with a jolt, an urgent thought echoing through my mind–some fragment from my dream.

Remember whose you are, Buttercup.

My mother’s final words to me.

Just as I was leaving for the House of Wind, she had taken my arm and said those words.

Remember whose you are.

It’s as if she knew what would happen, but I know that thought is ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly have known. Could she?

It’s early morning now, and dim light streams through the curtains. I roll over and bury my face in my pillow.

If my mother had known what was going to happen, why wouldn’t she have tried to stop it?

A soft knock sounds at the door, and after a moment, it opens. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes.

“I brought you some clothes, and some other things you might need,” Rean whispers. “Sorry to wake you.”

I thank him, and he turns and leaves again, closing the door softly behind him.

Of course he would need to bring me new clothes. I don’t have any now–save for my gown. I don’t have anything anymore.

I throw the covers back pull myself out of bed to inspect what Rean left for me. There is a simple tunic and leggings, some underthings, and a couple toiletry items. The tunic is soft and a navy blue colour, embroidered with swirls of silver on the hem and collar–something I probably would have chosen for myself.

I put on the clothes and put the toiletry items in one of the drawers of the vanity by the closet door. I then hang my now dirty gown in the closet, almost wishing I could burn it. I don’t even want to look at it.

I take this chance to look around the rest of the room–something I didn’t do last night. The large bed I slept in is along the far wall from the door, right in the middle. There are twin nightstands and lamps on either side, and an abstract painting hangs above the headboard. The left wall has the vanity and closet, as well as a floor-length mirror. The right side of the room has a door leading to the balcony and a large window with flowing gauze curtains. The room is decorated in shades of yellow and blue–coincidentally my favourite colours.

My stomach growls quite loudly, and I decide I should probably go and find some food, only I would probably get lost very quickly in the House of Wind. I have no idea what part of the house I’m in, let alone where the kitchens are. There’s only one thing I can do.

Gently, I tug on the bond. It feels strange, but not uncomfortable. Like a string tied to my heart, which slackens when Rean is far away and tightens when he is near. I reach down the bond with my mind, finding my mate on the other side.

Are you alright, Milena? His voice echoes in my mind. I can sense his worry, too.

I’m just hungry.

Should I bring you food? Or do you want me to bring you to the kitchen?

Will anyone else be in the kitchen?

Not if you don’t want there to be.

The door opens as Rean arrives to escort me. He holds out his hand to me, and I gladly take it, savouring the feeling of his calluses against mine (It’s surprising how many calluses one can get from cutting cakes. Something about the way I press on the knife creates an especially bad one on the palm of my left hand).

Rean leads me down numerous hallways, and I try to memorize the route we take. It’s actually not as far away as I expected it to be, and I’m confident that I’ll be able to find it again. I’m going to have to learn where everything is since I’m probably going to be here for a while–I don’t exactly have anywhere else to go.

My parents both had no other family, and very few close friends. I know they had friends in the Spring Court, but it seems that when they came to Night, they mostly kept to themselves. I have a small group of friends, but I would rather live here with any of them anyway. I make a mental note to visit them soon, though, to let them know I’m alright. Well, relatively alright. Anyway, I want to tell them about Rean. Luna will likely lose her mind when I tell her–she’s been hoping I would find a partner for decades. Just look at me now, Luna! I have a mate and it’s Prince Rean!

I search the kitchen for something I can make, and settle on some bread and cheese. Rean hands me an apple, too.

Thinking about my friends makes me wonder when I’ll be meeting Rean’s. Everyone in Velaris knows about the legendary group–mostly Illyrians (half or pure blooded) and master warriors, as well as notorious trouble-makers. I don’t feel like I’m up to meeting them any time soon, but it’s something we can talk about. I’ll likely come across a few of them in the House of Wind, anyway–namely his twin, Corin. But even just thinking about having to socialize with anyone makes me feel anxious. I can honestly barely even handle being around Rean, and the only reason I can at all is because he’s my mate. There’s a certain level of comfort that he brings with him, an effect of the bond.

“You look lost in thought.” I almost jump at Rean’s voice. I guess I was pretty lost in myself.

“I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep much.” He gives me a pitying look and I hate it. I just want things to be normal. “I’m fine.”

I finish up eating my small meal, and place the dishes I used in the sink. I turn back to Rean, who is waiting near the door. “Why don’t you show me around a bit?”

“Of course.” He smiles and holds out his arm for me to take. He leads me down a few more hallways, the late morning light streaming in through the windows. There are so many windows here, covered with billowing curtains. I know they must be using some sort of heating spell to keep this place so warm from its place up in the mountains. I know I haven’t even left the city, but it feels like another world in the House of Wind. It must be the sense of luxury that I’m not used to–my family wasn’t exactly poor but we were far from wealthy. My parents worked hard for and were proud of what we had, though. They had built their lives in Velaris from the ground up.

Rean stops in front of a door and pushes it open, revealing an enormous library. I can’t help but gasp at the sheer size of it and the shelves upon shelves of books inside. Back home, I had a single shelf that was bursting with all my favourite stories. Here, I could spend the rest of my life reading and not even read all the books. “Let’s stay here for a while.”

“As you wish,” he chuckles. I follow him inside and waste no time browsing the stacks of books. Rean seems to have already chosen a novel, and now sits in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He doesn’t open his book yet, though. He watches me from where he sits with a glint of admiration in his violet eyes. I shy away and return my focus to the books around me, which are overwhelming in their variety.

“What kind of books do you like to read?” Rean asks.

“Oh, all types of books. I’ll read anything.” I select a large book that catches my eye. “I do have a soft spot for romance, though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Book in hand, I make my way back to Rean and sit in the armchair across from him.

“That’s an amazing book,” he says, nodding to the book I chose. “We’ll have to discuss it when you finish. There’s one part that Corin and I can never agree on the significance of.”

“We’ll have our own little book club,” I remark, opening my book.

He chuckles in response, but we both fall into silence as we read. We stay this way until well after lunch time, only stopping when we get too hungry to wait to eat any longer. We eat alone in the kitchen again, and when we’re finished, Rean suggests we go out in the garden.

“Can we take our books with us? I’m finding mine so interesting, I can hardly bear to put it down.”

“I knew you would love it. When you’re finished with it, I have some books that you might also enjoy.” The books appear in his hand–magicked here from the library. “I’d say our book club is off to a good start.”

In the garden, we sit in the grass under an enormous wisteria tree. His shoulder and thigh are pressed against mine, the contact feeling strangely intimate. We spend the rest afternoon as we spent the morning–reading together in a comfortable silence. The next day, we do the same, occasionally breaking from our reading to chat over a cup of tea. We spend four days with this routine, and in that time, we both speed through two large books each.

As much as it hurts to admit, I don’t think I’ve been this at peace in months.

Starlight and Ashes (one)

tagging: @runesandfaes @acourtofredqueens @havilliardandgalathynius @fiery-feyre @starzablaze @tog-trash @evyfox @highlordkaz @ame233 @high-lady-of-rochambeau @musicmaam @empress-ofbloodshed @rkjar1646 @literarynonsense *please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged in future chapters*

a huge thank you to my love @runesandfaes for editing ❤

Masterlist

Chapter One

Rean

A cool breeze off the Sidra stings my cheeks as I soar over the city. This is what I live for–moments where there is nothing but me and the sky and the cold air. The sun is beginning to rise over the water, chasing away the last of the stars and casting the world in an orange glow. This may not be the Dawn Court, but the sunrise is as beautiful as ever. Lights flicker on throughout Velaris, its people wake with the sun. At least, the people who live their lives during the day, rather than those who sleep while the sun is up to better enjoy the magnificent nights of my Court. I know my time of freedom is running out, and I take one last deep breath before turning back home to meet my parents. I may be their son, but no one leaves the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court waiting.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the hallway mirror as I walk through the House of Wind to the dining room for breakfast. My black hair is windblown and wild, my cheeks red from the biting cold. There will be no dodging their questions today. It’s too obvious that I’ve been out flying. Mom and Dad are already at the table when I enter the room, filling their plates with fruit and pastries. They exchange a glance with each other when they notice my state, no doubt having one of their silent bond-conversations.

“Have a nice flight, Rean?” Dad asks with a knowing smile.

“What? I wasn’t–” I stop trying to hide the fact that I took a morning flight when he levels me with a look that tells me there’s no use lying. “It was fine.” I scoop some melon on to my plate and stab a piece with my fork.

“Just fine?” Mom prods, “Did you go anywhere in particular?”

It’s not that I’m embarrassed of my flight, that would be ridiculous. It would be more embarrassing if I didn’t fly. And it’s not that I hate my parents. I love them, I really do. I just want to keep this one part of my life to myself. The sky’s the one place where I can be alone without watchful eyes and prodding questions. As much as I would prefer not to, I answer my mother’s question. “I just flew around a bit. Down by the Sidra to watch the sunrise.”

Corin, my twin, and this morning, my saving grace, saunters into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He is definitely not the type to take a morning flight to watch the sunrise.

“Leave my poor brother alone, Mom,” he says, taking his seat across from me. I pass him the pot of coffee and mouth ‘thank-you’. “Anyway,” he continues, “shouldn’t you two be preparing for the party tonight?”

“Yes, we probably should,” Dad glances at the clock on the wall and stands up from his chair. High Lady Feyre stands up from her own and places her napkin on the table.

“Rean, don’t forget the desserts,” she reminds me, “and Corin, make sure the musicians are set up. And I mean really make sure. We don’t want a repeat of what happened last year, do we?”

“We’ve been over this, it wasn’t my fault,” Corin insists, “and besides, the musicians arrived eventually.”

Mom chuckles under her breath and shakes her head. “Happy Starfall,” she calls back to us as she and Dad leave.

“Always a pleasure with them.” My comment makes Corin roll his eyes, but he smiles. I know I won’t get much conversation out of him until he wakes up fully. Probably sometime around noon, knowing him. We may look alike, but it’s little things like sleeping habits that couldn’t be more different between us.

Finished with my breakfast, I say goodbye to my brother and head into the streets of Velaris to find desserts for the party. I had heard about a bakery that the people of Velaris are saying makes the best cakes in the city, and that’s what I’m going to find now. For the second time this morning, I take to the skies.

I find the bakery easily enough. It’s on the bottom floor of a charming little brick building on one of the busier streets. The outside brick is painted with an intricate swirling design in black paint that reminds me of a traditional Illyrian tattoo, much like the one that swirls across my chest. The front wall facing the street has a large window that allows people on the street to see inside the bakery and the display case inside. Even from outside I can smell the delicious aroma of vanilla and sugar, and it’s enough to set my mouth watering. I step up to the door and push on it, but it doesn’t open. Confused, I knock. After a moment, a female opens the door.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re–” she cuts herself off and her eyes widen, no doubt as she recognizes who I am. “Prince Rean, I’m sorry. Please, come in.” She steps to the side and holds the door open for me.

“No, I’m sorry, I should have known you wouldn’t be open yet. It’s still early. I can come back later–”

“Don’t be silly,” she gestures for me to come inside. Sighing, I step into the bakery.

It’s warm inside, especially compared to the chilled wind outside. The walls are painted with more of that design from the outer brick, but the background of the black swirls here is a vibrant pink. Mirrors and decorative frames are spaced along the walls, all in gold and silver. The entire room gives a feeling of warmth and luxury, filled with overstuffed chairs and tables for two. The most amazing though is the display case, despite it being only half full. The single tier cakes inside are intricate and colourful, topped with chocolate curls and pieces of fruit, curds and glazes. “These are… incredible,” I remark, nodding to the cakes on display. I turn to the female in time to see a grin spread across her face and red bloom on her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she says as she nervously tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. When her smile fades I find myself wanting desperately for her to smile again, and the feeling catches me off guard. She produces a small notebook and a pen from the pocket of her apron and makes her way to the other side of the counter. “What can I get for you, Prince Rean?”

“Well,” I explain, “tonight, as you probably know, is Starfall.” She nods with a chuckle and I go on, “I have been put in charge of getting desserts for tonight’s party, and word on the street is you make the best cakes in the city. So I need all the cakes you have available today.”

“All of them?” she asks with raised eyebrows, “That’s about thirty cakes.”

“Perfect.”

“And they’re not all ready yet. It will take me about another hour to finish cutting and decorating them all, so you can leave and come back in a little while if you would like. Of course you could also just wait here, I can get you a drink and a slice.”

Really, I should leave and come back. But I find myself drawn to the bakery, to the young woman and her smile. “I can just wait here, if it’s no trouble.”

She smiles again and my heart lights up at the sight. “No trouble at all. I’ll just be back in the kitchen, if you want to take a seat.” She gestures to the lines of tables and turns toward the kitchen doors at the back of the bakery.

I feel my heart drop at the thought of her leaving, and I speak before I can stop myself. “I can keep you company.” I feel the heat rise on my cheeks. Corin was always better than me at flirtation… or whatever this is. All I know is that I want to spend more time with her, and if that means embarrassing myself and coming off as a fool, so be it.

She stops, seemingly surprised by my offer. The moments feel like hundreds of years as my heart pounds in my chest. Have I overstepped? Have I scared her off? I wish I could be more like Corin. He can speak to people as easily as I can push them away.

“Alright,” she smiles. I smile back and let out a breath. She turns back to the kitchen and I follow her in, thanking the cauldron for my small victory.

In the kitchen, the female–I should really ask for her name– sets to work on the cakes. Small, deft hands make quick work of shaving chocolate and slicing lemons and chopping fruit. She darts about the kitchen as I make myself comfortable leaning against one of the worktables. The silence that settles is comfortable, but I break it anyway.

“Do you have a name?” I ask, and instantly curse myself. Very smooth, Rean.

I at least win a smile for my embarrassment.

“I do,” she chuckles, not looking up from the cake she is icing on a turntable. Good, she can’t see how red my face is. “It’s Milena. Or Mila, by my family.”

“That’s a very beautiful name.” Almost as beautiful as the girl it belongs to. I drum my fingers absently on the table. She really is beautiful. Her blonde hair is braided back into a bun, but strands have come loose and hang free, framing her face in gold. Her green eyes are the colour of summer grass, and are warm and bright. They’re the kind of eyes I feel can see right into my soul, and they probably do. I don’t shy away from them, though, like I would with most people. I feel like I want her to see into my soul. Why am I so drawn to her?

“I can see you staring, Prince Rean.” That means she can also now see my face go as red as the strawberries she’s slicing. “I’m kidding, it’s okay. You’re probably just wondering how a girl from the Spring Court came to be working in Velaris, right?”

“You’re from the Spring Court?” I ask, then realizing I’ve blown my only chance of an excuse for my staring. I silently curse myself again.

“My parents were. They came here when my mother found out she was pregnant with me and opened up this bakery to make a living. They’re usually here too, but we expected today to be less busy because of the festivities tonight. So it’s just me today. And you.” Milena looks up at me and smiles. “I really am grateful for your company. It gets boring sometimes so I’m glad for the conversation, even if it means I have you stare at me the whole time.” The last part was said jokingly, but I can’t help but feel embarrassed again.

“What did your parents do in Spring?”

“They both worked at High Lord Tamlin’s manor. I’m not sure exactly why they wanted to leave, but I’m glad to live in Night instead of Spring.”

We fall back into another comfortable silence, and this time, I let it last. The rest of the time passes quickly, and before I know it, she is finished with my cakes and packing them into boxes tied with gold ribbon. With a snap of my fingers, the finished boxes vanish, sent up to the House of Wind. There is no more reason for me to be here, but I don’t want to leave. There is one way I can see her again, I just have to ask her. As I’m about to leave, I scrounge up what’s left of my courage and do it.

“Will you come to the House of Wind for Starfall tonight?”

She seems genuinely surprised, and takes a moment to find her words.

“I… well,” those piercing eyes find mine. “Alright.”

I smile so wide that my cheeks hurt. “I’ll see you there.”

I step out of the bakery and breathe in the fresh, cool air. That went well, I think.

Starlight and Ashes

For young fae, finding a place in the world can be tricky.

Rean is a Night Court Prince–one of the twin sons of the High Lord and Lady–but he feels out of place in his role. The vast Night Court sky is his only comfort, but eventually he will have to come back to the ground.

Milena is a daughter of the Spring Court born and raised in Velaris. When her parents came to the City of Starlight a hundred years ago, they opened a humble bakery that went on to become one of the most popular bakeries in the city. Taking up her role in the family, Milena is being trained to take the bakery as her own one day. But the purpose she craves can’t be found in the family business.

Milena and Rean live very different lives, but they have more in common than they think. When their paths cross, they find themselves drawn to one another in a way they can’t ignore. Together, they navigate failures and victories, joys and heartbreaks, love and hate, and try to find their place.

Chapter one of Starlight and Ashes comes Saturday, March 31

tagging: @runesandfaes @acourtofredqueens @havilliardandgalathynius @fiery-feyre @starzablaze @tog-trash @evyfox

please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged!

announcement

foxboylucien:

progress has been made on my very first fic!

the first chapter of Starlight and Ashes will be posted this Saturday, March 31

I’ll post a little synopsis tomorrow because it’s quite late right now and this girl needs some sleep

please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged!

Synopsis will be up sometime later today!