#Eris shouldn’t be in velaris he shouldn’t be in his bed

[icey--stars]

Part 9: 3.5k words, Azriel's POV

Series Index

A story of finding solace in another. Azriel finds himself needing danger in a peaceful world, and what is better than the Autumn Court, ruled by his old nemesis, Eris Vanserra?

a/n: this is where the smut comes in! enjoy :)

WARNINGS: SMUT! NSFW (MINORS DNI)

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Azriel

It was nearing midnight when Azriel finally circled his apartment’s door. He’d taken to flying to try and clear his mind after finishing up his chess game with Eris. It still didn’t fucking work. His mind was caught on the rings on Eris’s finger. Especially the one he liked with the black swirls. A hand should not be making him lose his mind. Neither should the male’s smirk.

But Cauldron fucking damn it all. He enjoyed causing Eris’s expressions to change. Even the cocky one didn’t bother him so much. Was he growing immune to it or was he sick? He didn’t know.

He got ready for bed, changing from his leathers into some black, silk pajamas. His mind still refused to clear, even as he tried to force himself to think of something other than a game of chess against his mortal enemy. Why was it so hard? It shouldn’t be this hard. He shouldn’t have Eris stuck in his head this way. He’d barely made it that week before returning to the Autumn Court, unable to resist anymore.

He just needed that temporary calm to try and make it another week. That was all. He had to make it longer this time before he visited otherwise Eris would get suspicious. Everything had to be hidden and calculated.

Yes. Yes, this was it. He was on a mission to gather information about the Autumn Court High Lord by… playing games. Fuck.

Rhys would think he’s fucking insane for this. Maybe he was pent up. The brothel did not sound inviting, however. It sounded fake. Honestly, both of his brothers had mates. He wanted that. He wanted a mate. But he knew he didn’t deserve it.

His brothers deserved it. They were good.

He tortured people in the dungeons and halfway enjoyed it. It made him feel powerful.

And for that, he wasn’t deserving of a mate.

He just needed something to take off the edge that felt… different. Not a brothel interaction where he paid for the sex. He didn’t want that. And don’t get him wrong, he knew he could go pick someone up at a bar pretty easily, but… it didn’t feel right. He would feel like he was using them.

“Fucking hell,” Azriel swore, turning over onto his stomach and stuffing his face in his pillow in an attempt to silence his thoughts. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he just needed his mind to shut up for once.

For hours, he lay like that, trying to avoid his thoughts until finally he just gave up and dressed in his leathers again and leaped into the frigid night air to fly a few laps around Velaris.

At least the feeling of flight wasn’t muted. He could still feel the adrenaline racing through him when he dived from a high point or did a harsh turn that pulled the skin and bones of his wings.

At one point, Rhys must’ve woken up and seen him outside of his balcony window because a few moments after flying past the River House, his High Lord was knocking on his mind walls.

What? He asked.

What are you doing flying out at… 4 fucking AM. What is wrong with you? Rhys’s voice was tired and rough.

I wasn’t tired.

Well, I know that’s a lie. Nightmares?

Sure, He replied, not giving Rhys a straight answer. Nightmares would be a much better reason to be unable to sleep rather than his fucking mind being unable to shut off. His head was pounding in the beginning of a migraine. Wonderful.

Want to come have tea with me? Rhys offered.

I’m fine, Azriel answered.

Alright. Have fun flying then, brother. Let me know if you ever need anything.

I will, Azriel lied.

-----

He lasted three days. Three whole fucking days before he couldn’t take his mind and the sleep deprivation any longer. He’d been tortured much worse than this and yet one auburn-haired High Lord was all it took for him to break apparently. What wondrous things that does to his pride. Not.

He winnows into the hallway of Eris’s chambers, sending his shadows skittering out toward the male’s office and his bedroom.

But the door opened and a very tired-looking Eris looked at him from the bedroom door. “Are you coming in or not?” Eris asked. There were bags under the male’s eyes as if he’d been working hard all day and a lack of jewelry.

Azriel gritted his teeth, but followed Eris into his bedroom, taking his- fuck, no. A seat on the armchair. Not his seat. He was visiting and he was on a mission and oh, fuck him. Eris was shirtless.

He looked down at the floor to avoid looking at the pale High Lord’s chest. Since when did Azriel get so disheveled over a shirtless male? He had no clue. But here he was, trying desperately to not admire his sworn enemy without a shirt.

“So, what game are we playing this time, Azriel?” Eris asked, laying back on his couch and pulling one of his many ghost hounds into his lap. It wasn’t one that he recognized.

Azriel sighed, finally looking up and attempting to steel himself. No, he could not be attracted to his enemy. He was a High Lord. Azriel was the Spymaster for another court.

But he still couldn’t help but glance. Eris was well-muscled. Not as much as an Illyrian, of course. He had a well-muscled, lithe body. In fact, Azriel bet he could fit his hands around his waist and have both thumbs touch the light dusting of red hair trailing down towards his crotch-

Azriel shut down that trail of mind before it could go any further. “I don’t care,” he replied at last. “You choose.”

Eris hummed and then snapped his fingers. A chessboard appeared on the table and Azriel hummed. “I’m going to make the assumption you like chess then,” he mused.

“You could say that,” Eris replied, sitting up. Azriel noticed the light pieces were situated in front of him. It was… bewildering that Eris actually let him play the ones he normally did. He’d assume the male would want every advantage he could have. But it seemed like he didn’t mind. It also was probably because he was a haughty, showboating piece of shit who had too much faith in himself with the previous win.

“You have the first move,” Eris reminded in a bored tone.

“I know,” Azriel snapped and moved one of his pawns forward. He had a particular strategy he wanted to play this time.

Eris barely moved a finger and the respective dark piece on the board moved forward.

“Lazy much?” Azriel said.

Eris’s lips tilted upward. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing with your shadows.”

He would.

Azriel rolled his eyes, situating his wings behind him in a more comfortable manner, moving both edges over the armrests so he could lean back. He told his shadows to move his next piece, lifting a brow at Eris.

The male chuckled. “So what have you been doing, shadowsinger? For the past three days? It seemed like we were becoming good friends.” The tone was a bit more mocking. But not exactly. More like… upset. But that couldn’t be right.

“Work,” Azriel lied.

“I hardly believe that,” Eris shot back. “You’ve had absolutely nothing to do and you’ve been avoiding me and my wonderful chess skills out of fear.”

Azriel scoffed. “I have most definitely not been doing that.”

“The denial doesn’t look good on you, Azriel. Best start telling the truth.”

“And how would you know what looks good on me?” Azriel asked, lifting a brow at the High Lord in a challenging manner.

Eris smirked, meeting Azriel’s gaze. “I think you will find me quite skilled in style, Azriel. In fact, I think Autumn colors would match your wings quite well, but you just seem so attached to your boring black.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “I’m not attached. It just happens to fit the job description.”

Eris broke eye contact and chuckled, moving another piece on the board. “I suppose it does, Azriel, but that brings us back once more to where I mention there isn’t anything to be doing your job over.”

He gritted his teeth harder. Eris wasn’t wrong and he couldn’t even try to deny it.

“Now, back onto what looks good on you per se… Perhaps Day Court fashion. Though I have a feeling you’d never be caught dead showing as much skin as Helion does.”

Azriel hummed. “I have worn it before,” he admitted. “Too loose. It’s not the skin as much as how difficult it is to keep on with just a belt.”

Eris chuckled. “I have to agree with you there. I think Lucien has mastered the art of it at this point, but I never will.”

“Clearly, you have no problems with showing skin,” Azriel mused, making an obvious glance down at the male’s chest. No chest hair. Interesting. Or perhaps he shaved?

Eris put on his signature smirk and his amber eyes met Azriel’s hazel ones. “Oh, do you like what you see, Azriel? I’ve seen you glancing.” One of his hands trailed across his happy trail and he quickly looked away.

Azriel didn’t reply, merely looking at the floor.

“Going by the red on your cheeks, Azriel, I’m going to assume that’s a yes,” Eris mused.

Shit. His cheeks were inflamed. He didn’t even notice. The shadows came up to soothe the heat and he sighed in defeat.

“I have to admit that I’ve wondered what’s under those leathers as well.”

Azriel’s head went up in surprise. Was Eris drunk? High? This seemed odd. But he couldn’t smell any mirthroot on his breath. Perhaps it was a spell. “Are you high?” He asked suspiciously.

“No. Is it so hard to believe that people are attracted to you, Azriel?”

“I didn’t know you were into males,” Azriel admitted with a hum.

Eris rolled his eyes. “And are you, Azriel?”

Azriel shrugged. “I don’t care.”

The High Lord tilted his head. “And yet you seem so defensive when faced with an attractive male, huh?”

“We haven’t exactly had the best history, Eris. Forgive me if I’m hesitant,” he retorted.

Eris’s expression fell. He looked frustrated. “Still hung up on five hundred years ago, Azriel? I’m pretty sure your pretty golden girl told you the truth by now.”

“Don’t call Mor ‘golden girl,’” He snapped. “And she did.”

Eris raised a brow. “Ah, you’re still lusting after the females who are already taken, then?”

“No,” Azriel snapped. “And I certainly wouldn’t be lusting. I can go to the brothel anytime.”

“But you still came here,” Eris said with a victorious smirk. “To me. For chess.”

Azriel sighed, groaning as he leaned back. “Fine. Yes, Eris, I am attracted to you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Partially,” Eris mused.

“What else could you possibly want? My total and complete humiliation?”

Eris chuckled. “Oh absolutely, but that’s not what I’m after.”

Azriel sat up again, glaring at the auburn-haired male. “What is it then?”

“Show me what’s under those leathers, Azriel.”

Azriel’s blood heated at that and he blinked in surprise. He was silent for quite a few moments, contemplating it. But since coming here, his mind has been more silent than it's ever been in the past three days and he might even get lucky enough to catch a wink of sleep tonight.

“Fine,” he relented and lifted his hands to begin unbuckling the top part of his leathers.

Eris leaned back, blinking for a few moments before that smirk returned yet again. “Oh, so eager,” he teased.

Azriel glared at the male as he finished unbuckling his leathers. “I could make you beg if I wanted to, Eris.”

Eris blushed. The flush spread from his cheeks down to his chest. Azriel was pleasantly surprised to see how those few words affected the male.

He pulled off his top set of leathers, setting them on the armrest of the chair. “Happy?” Azriel asked, brushing his hands down the tight-fitting shirt he still wore.

“Oh come on now, Azriel, you can do better than that. Make it even,” Eris urged.

Azriel rolled his eyes and leaned forward to reach the clips keeping the shirt around his wings, and then pulling it off. Underneath, his tattoos were revealed as well as quite a few more battle scars from the many years he’d lived and fought.

“There you go,” Eris purred. “And oh, you do look quite appealing even under all that leather.”

Azriel huffed, his wings stretching out a bit behind him uncomfortably. “I suppose I could say the same for you,” he admitted. “Though, I suspected more scars.”

Eris tensed slightly at those words and he seemed to draw back into himself some. Azriel narrowed his eyes.

“It’s a glamor,” Eris suddenly admitted and Azriel’s brows went up in surprise.

“Ah,” Azriel hummed. “Makes sense.”

“Do you want to see?” Eris asked after a few moments.

Azriel shrugged. “If you want to.”

Eris’s body suddenly shimmered with magic and then- oh. Fucking hell. Scars galore. Mother and Cauldron, why were there bits of whipping scars coming from his back? It was… horrible. But as he noticed the guarded look in Eris’s eyes, he forced himself to relax. He knew scars. He knew how terrible they could be and how much it could hurt to have them out. He probably knew that better than most people. But he also knew what scars meant.

They meant someone survived.

And that, in itself, was beauty like none other. Eris was a survivor. That’s what it meant to have so many scars like that. A survivor of what, he didn’t know nor would ask, but he was and there was no doubt of it.

“You survived a lot,” Azriel murmured.

Eris’s jaw tensed before he relaxed. “I suppose so. You did too.” He gestured limply toward Azriel’s hands that were clasped together in his lap.

Azriel shrugged, lifting a hand. “I guess so,” he mused.

Eris gently moved the dog in his lap away, and then leaned over, elbows resting on his knees. “I didn’t take you for a shy one, Azriel.”

“I’m not,” he retorted.

“Prove it then,” Eris challenged.

Azriel stood suddenly, shaking out his wings behind him slightly and walking a few steps toward Eris before stopping.

Was he about to do this? Really?

He reached down, grabbed Eris’s chin, and angled it up, leaning down slightly, pausing just as their breaths mingled. Eris was looking down toward his lips and then glanced back up at his eyes.

One side of Azriel’s mouth tilted up. “Are you a shy one, sweetheart?”

Eris’s answer came in the form of him reaching up, grabbing the back of Azriel’s neck, and forcing their lips to meet. Azriel huffed a little laugh before diving in.

It wasn’t a soft meeting of lips, but rather full of nips and bites as the two of them battled it out for dominance. At last, Eris relented as Azriel pried his way into Eris’s mouth, reaching up with his other hand to twist in his hair.

Eris whimpered when he tugged it some.

He pulled away for a moment, still staying close. “Sensitive?” He teased once Eris’s eyes finally opened.

Eris’s expression soured and Azriel chuckled before kissing him again, forcing him back against the couch as he put one knee on the cushions for balance. The dog huffed and left, but Azriel could hardly care as he took control of Eris’s mouth, exploring to his heart’s content.

“Fuck,” Eris gasped when he pulled away for a moment to breathe.

Azriel chuckled, settling his other knee down between Eris’s as he pulled a little on the male’s hair to angle his head better.

Eris whimpered into the kiss, going limp in Azriel’s hold. “You-” he gasped out in between kisses. “Fucker.”

“I could fuck you,” Azriel hummed, pulling away and letting Eris gasp for breath. “But I think I like watching you become a mess instead.” He kneeled some, kissing the side of Eris’s mouth and then continuing down his jaw to his neck where Eris really squirmed.

One of the male’s hands accidentally trailed down to his wings and he gasped, yanking the arm away as he attempted to steel himself. Fuck. That had felt too good.

“Sensitive?” Eris teased breathlessly.

“Whatever you want to tell yourself,” Azriel murmured and bit his neck. Eris gasped, his hands going up to Azriel’s hair as if he needed something to hold onto. When he pulled away, he was pleased with himself to find a nice purple mark on Eris’s neck. He wouldn’t be able to explain why he felt so pleased, but he did.

“Are you done preening?” Eris said impatiently.

Azriel chuckled. “Needy much, Eris?”

Eris rolled his eyes, but they went wide as the moon when Azriel suddenly leaned down further to suck on one of the pink buds on Eris’s chest.

He trailed one of his hands down the male’s skin until he paused at his trousers.

“Touch me or I’ll incinerate you,” Eris threatened.

Azriel chuckled and leaned up again to seal his lips with another kiss before using that hand to touch him, stroking him through the fabric as Eris moaned into the kiss, his hands scrambling for anything to hold onto. They eventually settled on Azriel’s arms, squeezing the muscles there.

“More,�� the High Lord demanded when he pulled away.

Azriel chuckled and continued. “Don’t be impatient, Eris,” he chastised.

“I will be as impatient as I fucking want,” Eris retorted.

Azriel pulled his hand away and chuckled as Eris glared at him. “Come on, undo your pants,” he said, leaning in to lightly pull at Eris’s earlobe.

Eris grumbled but obeyed the command and Azriel slid his hands under the male’s boxer, taking a hold of him, grinning wildly when he whimpered.

Oh, the sounds he could pull from him… it was addicting like none other.

He released Eris, standing up and yanking his pants down, smirking at Eris’s undone look.

He sighed as his length was freed, leaning down again. He smirked as Eris’s breathing hitched. “You like, Eris?” He teased.

“Fuck off,” Eris retorted.

“Not now,” he reprimanded. “Maybe another time.” He didn’t have the mental capacity beyond 'need to come' to figure out what that meant.

Eris gasped as he took hold of his cock again, his head leaning back into the couch.

He took hold of Eris’s hand clenched on his arm and gently dragged it down to his length. “Come on, don’t you remember how to be good, Eris?” He asked.

Eris groaned, firmly gripping his cock and rubbing. Azriel closed his eyes, groaning softly at the feeling. It was a bit rough without lube, but it still had stars bouncing behind his eyes.

“Good,” he praised softly, spreading some of the precum coming from Eris’s length, pulling away for a moment to spit into his hand and then return.

Eris seemed very pleased with that, his hand squeezing Azriel slightly.

Azriel stroked faster, wanting to get Eris to come for him. He wanted to see the male completely undone without any barriers. Cauldron, he wanted it so much.

“Please,” Eris begged. “Close.”

Azriel quickened his pace, panting harshly. Eris’s hand quickened as well and a choked noise came from the back of his throat. The hand left his cock but Azriel didn’t have enough brain power to question why as he urged the male closer and closer to climax.

“Fuck-” Eris cursed, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Then he moaned loudly as white spurted from his cock.

Azriel watched with rapt attention, taking in his tightly squeezed eyes, tight mouth, and the flush that’d spread further down his chest. His heaving chest was quickly being covered in his come. Well, that was until Eris’s hand fell to the inner edge of his wing where he was most sensitive. His jaw opened wide as a loud moan of surprise escaped him.

Eris rubbed there and he came suddenly and quickly, head collapsing against the couch next to Eris’s as he panted, wings going limp behind him.

“Fuck,” Azriel swore. “I didn’t say you could touch my wings.”

“You never said I couldn’t,” Eris murmured with his eyes still shut.

As Azriel slowly came back to himself, his mind refocused.

And fucking hell was it a reeling moment when he finally realized what he and Eris had just done.

Fuck.

He stood up, looking down at Eris who was still a complete mess under him, pants undone and covered in come.

Azriel pulled up his own at the thought, tightening the belt quietly.

Eris’s head finally raised and he made eye contact with Azriel, waving a hand. The come on his stomach and chest suddenly disappeared with a brief use of magic.

Azriel turned to grab his shirt and leathers, pulling the shirt over his head but not clipping it behind his back.

Then he winnowed away.

He shouldn’t have done that. Especially not with Eris.

But he had. And it had felt great.

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TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468, @mali22, @skyesayshi

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Ask in the comments to be added!

[theladyofbloodshed]

Au acosf - chapter 29

high lord meeting time!!! (Tw: mention of r/ape)

@sv0430 @mis-lil-red @confusedfandomslut @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @a-court-of-valkyries @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury

With trepidation, they prepared as best they could for whatever meeting Nesta had called. When Cassian had blustered back to Velaris from the Spring Court, his wings were not the only part of him that was aching.

He had achieved what he’d set out to do: to evolve Nesta’s fear into anger. He had not anticipated the wound she would cause him though. He had provoked her so he shouldn’t have been so surprised by how she’d attacked. I prefer their sons. The only male worse than Beron Vanserra was his slimy firstborn.

Rhys and Feyre were about to head to bed when Cassian had returned to Velaris. His high lord spoke into his mind asking if all was well as he’d not expected to see him streaking across the sky that night. All Cassian could muster was a sorry that he’d been unable to find the reason behind the meeting.

He’d slumped on the edge of his empty bed, disappointment soaking through every sinew. He had never asked for his conception. He had no say in how he came to be in the world. He’d fought and fought for his court, risen through the ranks to become something he could be proud of. And Nesta, ignited by his own insecurities, had reflected it back.

Nobody passed comment, except one. It was Amren who had seethed that he’d been sent to do one simple thing and had managed to fail. She was only bitter because Rhys had tasked her with staying behind to guard the city rather than unleash her on the high lords. Such was their distrust of Eris, they did not discount the idea that he might have aligned solely with Keir to take Velaris. Amren’s insults bounced off his already bruised ego. They had no clue what the meeting was and no way to prepare thanks to his failing. He didn’t need her to rub it in that he was a failure.

Feyre gave him a knowing look as she rubbed against his shoulder the morning of the meeting. She’d fought enough battles with Nesta to know one who’d lost against her. Still, Cassian had wanted to race back to the Spring Court to protect her. Now he knew that Briallyn was amassing her power, every moment where he could not guard Nesta was one that he panicked. He had been counting down the hours until the meeting where he could finally see her again, be certain she was well, even if she tore him to shreds in the process.

The three females dressed in black gowns; Feyre with a crown to match Rhys’. Rhys was immaculately dressed in a tailored jacket and pants, so black it swallowed the light. He and Azriel wore their armour - no better than brutish fighters, he imagined Eris would sneer. The cobalt siphons of Azriel’s were pulsing softly like a heartbeat as he promised to join them later once he and Lucien had finished with whatever Rhys had tasked them with. For all the years that Cassian had done it for him, he needed Az as a buffer against Nesta. She might not attack him if he had Azriel as a shield; she liked that male. As if sensing his nerves, Az clicked his tongue.

‘Tell her I said hello.’

Once they had winnowed, Mor kept a firm grip on his arm as they strode up the white stone steps of the palace. Peregryns awaited them at the top. They had arrived exactly on time - which seemed to be almost late. Slightly ahead, the white haired heads of the Winter Court delegate passed through the doorway but no other courts could be easily spotted, likely they had already descended upon the court.

A servant showed them to their rooms on the fourth floor. A gathering area was at the centre with three rooms connected to it. A large balcony looked out towards the shimmering landscape. It was glamoured to disguise what truly lay beyond. Cassian had seen it once, centuries earlier; it was all lush countryside woven with sparkling rivers and villages carved with red roofs that soaked up all the sun.

‘Only three rooms?’ Mor said with her hands on her hips.

‘Last to arrive,’ Rhys shrugged. ‘You and Elain will be sharing I suppose.’

‘We’ll have to,’ she pouted.

Cassian’s bed was large enough for his wings to fit comfortably - but not for anything else. Not that Nesta would come to his bed here - or anywhere else for that matter.

Staying in another court over night always made them jittery. He couldn’t help but think of Velaris when he was away from it, wonder if it was safe. They had been so close to losing it once, but Rhys’ sacrifice had protected them from Amarantha. The thought of Amren left in charge of it churned his gut enough.

They had enough time to settle themselves. Feyre’s own nerves had begun to fray by the way she fretted and readjusted the coasters on the table for no other reason than to keep her hands busy. Rhys, casual as ever, lounged near the balcony, letting the sun absorb into his dark suit.

Mor ran a hand through her glossy, blonde hair. ‘You don’t think she’s announcing an engagement to Eris?’

Cassian stilled at Mor’s words. Rhys loosed a soft chuckle.

‘I hardly think they’d gather all the courts for that.’

‘They both live for drama,’ she said, slipping her heeled shoes back on.

‘Be nice.’ The urge to growl had been difficult to fight back but he had managed not to lose his temper entirely with Mor. ‘Eris is an unwanted ally, but Nesta is a sister,’ Cassian gestured to Feyre and Elain, ‘if you can’t be civil to her, don’t speak to her.’

The shock etched onto Mor’s features already made guilt squirm in his stomach. But Nesta had spoken true enough when she’d said he was embarrassed about her around Mor. It wasn’t embarrassment of Nesta, it was that he knew the females never saw eye to eye. But one was his mate and one was his friend - so he had to decide who needed his support more. If he could not defend Nesta in private, it was no good wanting her love in public.

‘I think we ought to go,’ Elain murmured, wringing her hands, also apprehensive to face her sister again. In all the months that Nesta had been gone, Elain had only mentioned her a handful of times. Nesta’s absence had become something they had all grown used to – except for him. Her absence was an aching wound that demanded to be felt.

When they entered the large meeting room, Nesta only flickered her gaze at them briefly then turned back to her conversation with Beron. While their talk was quiet, there was no fear on her part as she engaged the high lord.

Behind him, Cassian felt his high lady tense. On Nesta’s other side sat the high lord of the Spring Court. What miracle had Nesta conjured? The pair both wore clothes of the same forest green though they lacked any decoration or opulence. It was a typical Nesta style; but Cassian had never realised the similarities with the high lord either. He was never one for extravagance. It suited them both to dress plainly, without jewels. They looked better that way. Neither needed to show off to command attention. Nesta’s gold-brown hair was braided into her usual coronet and Tamlin’s golden hair streaked down his back. Since his depression where he spent so long in his beast form, it was easy to forget the size of Tamlin; plenty of times he had gone toe to toe with Cassian when things were different between their courts and held his own. Nesta seemed dwarfed by him – and he had to wonder if that’s how they appeared when they were together, Cassian’s massive frame and wings drowning Nesta.

Nesta’s rage might have been better than her lack of response to them as they pulled up seats beside the Day Court. Helion gave a hearty wave – with a wink to Mor – as they settled. When Nesta’s conversation with Beron began to subside, she quipped a line to Eris that had the male raising his eyebrows with a feral grin. His father rolled his eyes, but even the corner of his mouth quirked up at whatever Nesta had said. To the Night Court, however, she was blind. As was Tamlin. Cassian supposed that was the best reaction; Rhys kept a steady, supportive hand on Feyre’s own, but she’d bitten her nails to the quick that morning.

Thesan’s silken voice broke across the quiet chatter. ‘Shall we begin?’

The high lord’s rich eyes rested upon Nesta, giving her the floor. If there were any nerves behind the female’s façade, she did not show a hint of them as she nodded in acceptance.

‘Firstly, thank you to the Dawn Court for hosting us,’ she said, making eye contact with those assembled around the large table. ‘It is much appreciated. We have gathered the Courts to discuss the development of a fund that may support folk whose lives have been uprooted by the war against Hybern.’

‘Spring and Summer Court have suffered the greatest level of damage,’ Tamlin added, with a nod towards Tarquin.

Nesta had managed to bring the high lord who she despised back from the edge, had managed to hone him back into the blade he had always been. It took a warrior’s eyes to notice that Nesta had weighed up her options and allied herself with the least serpentine; her forearm gently touched Tamlin’s, leaving as much space as she could from Beron. Out of the two sins, Tamlin was the lesser threat.

‘Remind me, who here aligned themselves with Hybern’?’ Kallias’ voice was sheathed with ice as he stared down Tamlin.

‘And my court suffered greatly for it.’

‘For your mistake.’

‘Yes,’ Nesta said, touching Tamlin’s hand briefly in a measured attempt to stop the talons from emerging, ‘and I suffered as a result of that mistake, as did my sister, Elain.’ Elain shifted with discomfort at the attention that was directed her way. ‘We were innocent and we suffered. But we have the built the bridge of forgiveness. To never forgive a sin, to take vengeance for our suffering will blind the world.’

Cauldron, she was dangerous. Cassian could not stop his heart from thumping as he watched that clever, silver-tongued female play the room; her subtle touches and kind smiles to Tamlin were political statements that not only were they allies – but he was her shield. And he was back to full potency, a fact Beron seemed to shrink from.

‘Perhaps if he had been an adequate ruler who did not allow his temper tantrums to run riot, his court would not be in such disarray.’ Rhys picked an imaginary piece of thread from his sleeve.

Beside Nesta, Tamlin snarled. Mor’s hand on his thigh beneath the table stopped Cassian from leaping across to the pull Nesta from him. Nesta paid Tamlin no attention, did not quake with fear at his rumbling temper beside her. She had grown too used to it. She had surrounded herself with a male as explosive as she was to bat an eyelid from it.

To Rhys however, she sighed. She locked him into her gaze like a target. So much for forgiveness.

‘The high lady of the Night Court infiltrated Spring with one agenda: to raze it to the ground for petty revenge. Her actions-’

‘I’m not listening to this,’ Feyre snapped, getting up from her chair.

‘High lady you may be,’ said Nesta coldly across the table to her sister, ‘but you will sit and you will listen.’

Cassian had only ever felt magic like that once before. Feyre’s legs gave out, thrusting her back into the chair. He spared a glance to Rhys, but it was not his magic holding Feyre in her place. Rhys was struggling, his splayed palms on the table pushing against an invisible force that pinned him to his seat.

A crown of silver flames wreathed Nesta like a halo. The fae gathered stared at her in a mix of awe and trepidation. He was glad their attention was fixed on Nesta, Beron included, so they could not fully understand the way in which she held Feyre and Rhys into place, no more difficult than pinning an ant under her thumb.

‘Your act of revenge cost the lives of many in the Spring Court as well as the Summer Court, high lady,’ Nesta said, her eyes like molten quicksilver in an unnerving ethereal display. ‘You would do well to show some humility and admit your failings rather than this display of defiance. Because of you, children are without their parents, wives without their husbands, mothers without their sons.’

Cauldron, he knew she was powerful, but that level of it was unheard of. And the control she had over it was impressive. He had to give Eris credit that he’d trained Nesta well. The snake sat mesmerised, a smirk on his thin face watching Nesta dominate the room.

Cassian couldn't help but think again how different things might have been if it was Nesta taken from the mortal lands instead of Feyre. She'd likely have ripped Amarantha's tongue out with her bare hands.

Rhys’ eyes slid out of focus then Feyre’s. Both stopped struggling against Nesta’s magic and admitted defeat after a silent communication with one and other.

‘Last I checked, it was not your court,’ Rhys said, the drawl of his voice fighting hard to keep the anger from it.

‘It is our court,’ Tamlin said, talons growing from his fingers as he partially shifted. ‘It blooms under Nesta’s care.’

Who could have predicted that them pushing Nesta away on the winter solstice would result in her allying with Tamlin and the Autumn Court? Cassian should have known that Nesta was a wildcard, shattering every mould intended for her.

Nesta picked up the sheets of parchment laid out in front of her and read to the courts assembled. ‘Dana Esrith – lost her husband and three sons during the war. The family farm has been seized by debt collectors as there are no males to tend to the land. Shuran Lefia – home burnt to the ground by Hybern, her two children perished while soldiers raped her. Bran Doyle – arm amputated after Hybern’s soldiers ransacked his store, burnt his stock, and murdered his wife.’ Those eyes, still blazing with silver, stared down every high lord around the table. ‘I have over three hundred stories from the Spring Court alone. Many more have been taken in as refugees in the Summer Court. These are fae who have suffered through no fault of their own.’

‘It is time to be accountable. It is time to pay attention to the lowest in your courts. The crowns on your heads would feed families for a whole year. How can you not feel outraged by the injustice?’

‘My court’s taxes will not be spent supporting another that cannot manage its own finances,’ Beron scoffed, not balking from the flames still crowning the female on his left.

Nesta thumbed through her paperwork without a hurry. Nobody else dared speak, not when she held them all in a thrall. A small noise of triumph escaped her lips as she pulled a piece of parchment from the stack.

She cleared her throat before she spoke, the flames fading. ‘Astrid Belevin – Autumn Court - father, three brothers, and her husband fell against Hybern. All the males served on the frontline which suffered the heaviest losses. Kharen, Elusia, and Tarrelia Lundor – Autumn Court – children whose father died in the war. Their mother, a healer, also perished when Hybern’s soldiers targeted an infirmary. Need I go on, Beron? Your son has compiled some one hundred and fifty stories so far and they continue to pour in across the Autumn Court.’ Nesta offered him the stack of parchment, which he refused. ‘The Spring Court is siphoning twenty percent of its tax and tithe to the fund. If your council is so inept at assessing its financial situation that it has not noticed the level of poverty growing amongst your people, I shall be glad of the opportunity to examine the finances myself.’

Nesta refused to look away from Beron. Only once his hard stare slipped down to his own hands did she drag her attention away. The sheer thrill of it was electric in Cassian’s veins; how she had dared to address him by name, not high lord.

A faint blush powdered across Nesta’s cheekbones as she spoke again, this time moving away from her well-rehearsed speeches. ‘There are many individuals out there like me, who are struggling but are too proud to ask for help. If they will not come to us, we must go to them. We must seek them out and we must help them.’

‘The Summer Court will assist where we can,’ came Tarquin’s smooth voice from the Summer Court contingent assembled. ‘Many of our refugees from Spring have settled well. Permanent status can be granted, should they want it.’

Nesta and Tamlin nodded in acknowledgement with his words.

‘Your court has also suffered greatly. Together, the path will be easier.’

Feyre had sold Nesta’s skills short; the female was an expert courtier. The soft, alluring smile she gave Tarquin was a polished, political move, but one that brought a smile to Tarquin’s own lips in response.

Calm down, Rhys said speaking into his mind. It was only a smile exchanged between a high lord and his mate, but it still had Cassian’s siphons flaring in response. That, and the fierce blaze of pride in Eris’ eyes as he observed Nesta. Even the Lady of Autumn Court was assessing Nesta with a small, tight smile but her eyes twinkled as she watched the female hold the room.

‘Cresseida will assemble a team to compile a list of those most in need and we will examine our finances to siphon coin to a mutual aid fund.’

The transparency of the young high lord was a stark change to the others present. There was something about that decency and honesty that appealed to the other lords present.

‘The jewels of the Summer Court are its leaders,’ said Nesta, bowing her head.

For what felt like hours, they hammered out arrangements and next steps to repair the fractures in the courts left by war. The talk of finances and tax brackets was too much for Cassian. He’d sat muddled during it all, letting the leaders argue, feeling no better than a baseless soldier after all. He glanced over to Elain who sat watching Nesta with her brows drawn together. Feyre was also quiet, letting Rhysand lead the talks for the Night Court.

Tensions simmered as egos were prodded. Finally, a stop was called after noon had struck. Cassian’s stomach had been gurgling for the last hour besides.

A spacious room had been prepared with a light buffet; the huge balcony open to allow them all to bask in the warmth of the sun. Thesan offered tours, led by his servants, of the vast palace and its grounds. Some accepted, some preferred to return to their room, others remained for lunch. It provided a chance to mingle before the night's ball.

'It's a good idea,' Rhys admitted. 'I wish I'd thought of it.'

'Will we contribute?' Feyre asked, adding a branch of grapes to her plate.

'On the condition one from our court oversees the finances. I don't trust it to not go into Eris' back pocket.'

Mor grimaced. 'How can she stomach him?'

Nesta was locked in conversation with Tarquin and Eris. It was an easy discussion; the three minds bouncing ideas off each other at a table while nibbling at food. Cassian frowned as he watched Eris pick a chunk of apple from Nesta's own plate and pop it into his mouth. His arm was round the back of her chair. They were so comfortable around each other. Beron was nowhere to be seen - neither was his wife or other putrid children - which was likely why Eris' casual demeanour had made an appearance. Nesta's smiles were so difficult to win, but to Eris they were given freely.

'Stop torturing yourself,' Rhys murmured with a hand pressed against the siphon on his chest.

But he could not stop watching Nesta. Every other female was a shadow compared to her. The food Feyre had offered him tasted like ashes. Without Nesta, it would always feel like starving.

'He's given her one of his smoke hounds. A pup.'

Rhys' attention snapped across the room to the pair. 'They're not to be traded out of Autumn. Beron allowed that?'

Tarquin had departed, leaving the two alone. Twin flames, one silver, one red. They clinked glasses together, from the look it was only a fruit juice. Nesta waited until Eris had begun drinking then she whispered something. It had the male spitting his drink down his front and Nesta roaring with laughter in a way Cassian had never seen her laugh before.

'My enemy's enemy is my friend,' Rhys said coyly, violet eyes examining their exchange.

If he'd staked a wager on it, Cassian would have expected sheer anger from the male, but Eris merely wiped his front and nudged Nesta with a grin on his own face.

'Why don't we go the balcony. You can sun your wings,' Mor said, already bringing Cassian to his feet.

It would always be difficult for Mor to see Eris, but perhaps seeing him as a male who another female was happy with made it more uncomfortable. The other three followed and Cassian found himself willing Azriel to arrive as soon as possible to keep his temper under wraps.

Even the warmth of the sun could not manage to repair his bleak mood. The others seemed to understand that too and volunteered to head back to their rooms to relax. Cassian did not know how he'd get through the ball.

They passed through the crowds still mingling over luncheon and made for a corridor filled with music. By the large bay windows at the end was a pianoforte. Two familiar figures were seated; one playing, one listening with rapture.

It was the final straw. Feyre gripped Nesta around the top of her thin arm, pulling her away from Eris who only watched on with faint amusement.

‘You know what sort of male he is. I thought you’d have learnt your lesson from Tomas Mandray.’

A burning, blinding pain shot down the bond straight into Cassian’s gut. Nesta stared at Feyre with utter disdain. Cassian’s siphons blazed in warning to the inner circle that a maelstrom was coming their way and there was no God who could stop it.

Rhys pulled an arm in front of his mate, teeth bared, but Feyre was not the target. Silver eyes drifted over Feyre’s shoulder, catching on the female making quiet conversation with Mor. Nesta’s chest heaved as she stalked towards her sister, every inch the predator.

‘How. Dare. You.’ Nesta’s voice was broken and brittle, every word sounded like she had glass in her mouth. Cassian could feel her uncontrollable hurt shooting down their bond.

Elain blinked at Nesta with her innocent brown eyes. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘You had no right telling anyone about… About him. How dare you tell my business to anybody?’

‘Nesta, stop it,’ Feyre said, coming to stand by her sister, playing peacemaker. ‘It wasn’t Elain who told me.’

Nesta tossed her head back in laughter. It was shrill and on edge. ‘Fucking hell, what has she ever done to warrant such fierce loyalty from either of us, Feyre? Precious little Elain who sat on her backside in the cabin alongside wicked Nesta. One is martyed for it, the other damned.’ Cassian’s knees threatened to buckle from the anguish twisting between their bond. This was pain. Nesta’s greatest wounds were carried in her heart. ‘The only ones who knew the way I came home that night were her and father. I doubt he had that conversation with you before his neck was snapped.’ Her attention turned to Elain again. Elain clutched Mor’s arm, but even Morrigan who had fought many battles seemed to shrink from Nesta.

‘The only reason I ever entertained the idea of Tomas was for you.’ She jabbed Elain in the chest. ‘I’d have walked through the fires of hell for you. And you would stand and watch me burn. I deserve better than you. Mother knows Lucien does too.’

Trembling, Nesta departed. Elain bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying. Feyre’s arm had come around her shoulders while Mor tried to disperse the curious eyes that been peering down the corridor. Cassian couldn’t help feel that Nesta was right though. All of them had taken to Elain, to her softness, to her lack of disruptiveness without ever tarring her with the same brush as Nesta. And Nesta truly would have done anything for Elain once.

‘Why did you bring up that male?’ He pressed Feyre, voice low to stop the crowd overhearing as they slowly began their chats in the main room again. ‘What was the reason?’

Feyre rubbed a thumb in a small circle on Elain’s shoulder. ‘Nesta is getting carried away with revenge. I’m just trying to protect her.’

‘No,’ Cassian said speaking against his high lady. ‘She is not malicious. She’s stayed away from you both. She’s trying to help in Prythian. It’s not revenge.’

‘Cass,’ Rhys warned, his voice little more than a snarl.

‘You defend your mate often enough, let me defend mine,’ he snapped back.

A slow clap sounded then Eris trod towards them lazily. There was something so feline about his movements, the careful tread of his polished black boots, the slight bounce to his gait. And the way he stared, like a cat bearing down on its prey.

‘It astounds me really how your court is able to function. You manage to fuck up every opportunity with Nesta. I dread to think what life is like for the Illyrians.’

‘Fuck off, Eris,’ Mor spat.

He leered at Mor. If Azriel had been there, he’d have splattered him against the wall.

‘Naughty Nesta Archeron who failed her sisters,’ he drawled. ‘What’s today’s date?’

‘Would you like a calendar, Eris?’ Rhys said.

‘Indulge me.’

‘1st April.’

‘And yesterday’s?’

‘Is there a point to this?’ Mor snapped.

Elain made a whimper. A clammy hand clutched over her mouth. ‘It was Nesta’s birthday yesterday.’

Eris clapped again, dragging it out slowly for emphasis. ‘That’s her third birthday since the Cauldron made her into something spectacular. The first,’ he said counting it onto his finger, ‘was spent guarding you in the library Elain, wasn’t it? Of course, nobody celebrated it when all her efforts were focused on you. The second, well she spent that one alone in a tavern because nobody bothered to remember. And yesterday? Oh look, no sisters remembered again. Or her mate.’

‘You’ve made your point, Eris, now fuck off.’

‘No,’ he said, holding up a finger to Morrigan – one she shrunk away from. ‘This is not about scoring points. Do you know how she spent her birthday? Crying on my shoulder.’ His attention turned to Feyre. To her credit, Feyre steeled her nerves and stepped out of Rhys’ shadow. ‘When you hunted for food, who cooked it?’

‘Nesta.’ The word sounded like a curse upon his high lady’s tongue.

‘And who cleaned the clothes on the metal washboard until her hands were red raw?’

‘Nesta.’

‘Who dried the clothes and folded them and put them back into drawers? Who scrubbed the embers from the hearth until it gleamed? Who dusted and swept? Who did all the tasks the lady of the house would do?’

‘Nesta,’ Feyre admitted, ‘but as the eldest, she was raised to do it.’

‘Yes. And she did it. Because that was expected of her. One day she'd find a mortal husband and do the same for him. Was she ever thanked for it?’ Eris’ vicious glare went to Elain. ‘What did you do? What have you ever done for her?’

It was Mor who answered. ‘Leave, Eris. She's Lucien's mate.’

'She's a spoilt madam. Who stepped up and taught you about cycles and contraceptive tea as a mother might do?

‘We get your point,’ Feyre ground out.

‘Do you?’ Eris snarled, eyes blazing. ‘And did you thank her for telling her story about the Cauldron? Did you thank her for trying to repair the wall? For tending to your injured soldiers? For scrying? For killing the King of Hybern? What more must she do to atone for make believe sins?’

Cassian had never seen the male so worked up. His typically cool demeanour had been shattered. The colour had risen in his cheeks, revealing his feelings for Nesta for all the world to see. Then those strange, amber eyes locked onto his.

‘For once, in your pathetic life, stand up for your fucking mate like she damn well deserves.’

Eris withdrew a step. ‘Keep Nesta’s name out of your mouths. She might not be like you, but I am much worse. Do not upset her again.’

‘Or what?’ Rhys said in a quiet voice, staring at Eris with feral delight. ‘You’ll tell your father about our little arrangement.’

Eris smiled. It was always dangerous when the male did that. ‘I shouldn’t have to resort to blackmail for you to be nice to your sister-in-law, Rhysand. With family like you, who needs enemies? You can thank the Mother that Nesta has friends like me.’