Omg Thank You So Much For The Fic!! It Was So Amazing, Better Than I Could Have Ever Hoped For And Exactly

Omg thank you so much for the fic!! It was so amazing, better than I could have ever hoped for and exactly what I needed 🥹

Ohhh thank you so much!!! You literally just made my day. Sorry if I took too long to write it, but I went WILD after thinking about the story

Thank you again anon!! 🥰🥰🥰

🌸 If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog. 🌸

This is fun

1. I probably already participated in every existent area of entertainment, from acting, to music, dance, gymnastics and now writing

2. I learned English only with netflix since my family was going through a rough time (financially speaking) and that was my only source of learning

3. I jumped a year in school; technically I just started school too young and should've repeated a year to match with my other classmates, but my mom fought everyone in the school to keep me in the grade I was and now I'm always the youngest in every class

Hey could you pls do the nightmare trope with azriel where the reader has a very bad nightmare in which she sees azriel nearly dead and when she wakes up and finds him she can't believe it's him and he manages to help her ? ☺️🤔

I certainly can! 😉😉

Oh my, thank you very much for directing me on this one, my biggest fear is writing something people wouldn't like since I usually get carried away in the story and write whatever comes to mind first

Hope you enjoy this!!

I know I said I wouldn't do more than one fic for each trope right now but whatever I like this one better 😡

Until It Happens To You

The night was restless as if the shadows themselves whispered secrets that their master shouldn't hear. You felt burdened by a foreboding unease, your mind shifted between the deep slumber and the real world. You didn't feel Azriel's body beside yours in the bed, his side turning cold at each passing moment he was away. You were sure he slept at your side this night, just as the many others he said your presence made it easier for him to finish his work and finally get some rest.

This strange arrangement between the two of you started a few months ago, you with your throat dry and in need of water and him with a pile of work, he didn't finish during the day. You were so deep into your sleep that somehow you managed to invite him to your room and tell him he could do it in your bed since "two work better than one". You were obviously asleep when he found himself at your side, but he remained there anyway and assured you the next morning that it worked, in a strange way. After some days, some times you actually helped him, he distracted himself by your calm aura and slept in your bed.

That's how everything started and, on his restless nights, he found comfort at your side, both of you holding your peace together as the dream world caught you both at night.

Anyway, you imagined he went back to his room, as he did so many nights before, it wasn't weird at all. Yet, you couldn't get back to sleep as the silence filled the house, almost as if it was mourning something. Your eyes started to close again only to open by a haunting scream that seemed to transcend the walls of the whole house, filling every corner with terror.

In this nightmarish scenario, you found yourself standing in the middle of the room, what before was a bright and colorful place became a desolate chamber shrouded in darkness. The air was heavy with a cold, forming an oppressive atmosphere. Dimly lit torches flickered around you, torches you didn't remember you lighted. They kept casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls, mocking you with their macabre movements, almost as if they were laughing at your lack of knowledge.

As your eyes adjusted to the gloom, you noticed the open door, more torches lighting your way to the corridor, and the stones covering the walls, dirty with a thin layer of blood that started on your door and kept going downstairs. You checked your own body to make sure, finding nothing but heartache, a feeling that your heart was being ripped out of you.

You followed the path that led you to the living room, the blood forming a thicker layer with each step you took closer. The sight you found wasn't any better, close to the balcony doors, in a position that looked like the person was trying to run away, you spotted a figure lying motionless on the cold stone floor. The wings were shredded to pieces, and blood covered their clothes, forming a pool on the sides.

Your heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned upon you, making your knees tremble as you took in the image forming in front of your eyes. It was Azriel, the one whose love and presence had become the foundation of your existence. Panic surged through your veins, and your voice choked with fear when you screamed for help, but it seemed like no one was in the house besides the both of you.

-Azriel! No, please, wake up! - You uselessly screamed as you ran close to his body, feeling that your heart could explode at any moment with the pain you felt.

With trembling hands, you rushed towards him, your footsteps echoing ominously through the chamber. Kneeling by his side, you desperately shook him, but he remained unresponsive. His usually tanned and alluring features were now pale and lifeless, and his eyes closed in an eternal slumber. Suddenly you understood the pain you were feeling. The mating bond. The realization kills you even more.

Tears streamed down your face as you cradled his motionless form, hugging his cold body the way you could, hoping for any form of life to come out of him. Your voice became a desperate plea as you kept talking to him, even if you knew he wouldn't answer.

-No, this can't be happening! Azriel, please! Wake up! - Your anguished cries reverberated off the walls, fading into the oppressive darkness.

Yet, despite your desperate attempts, your touch suddenly met no resistance. It seemed to pass through his form as if he were nothing but a specter. His body started to disappear in thin air, the despair seemed to taunt you, amplifying your pain and the sense of loss.

As this nightmare tightened its grip on you, the chamber distorted and morphed, becoming a labyrinth of pain and suffering. The walls closed in, constricting your movements, suffocating you with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. You fought against the suffocating atmosphere, gasping for air, your voice a mere whimper as you tried to grasp Azriel's disappearing form.

- Please...don't leave me… I love you. I've been in love for a long time now and you can't leave me here… my mate - Your last words were whispered against the nothing.

When Feyre told you about the day she almost lost Rhysand she told you about the painful sensation of getting her heart broken. And you were there when she need it most while she remembered the situation, but you weren't the one falling off that deep end of silence and cold of a once cheerful and bright string that connected their souls. You understood her now.

You once had a friend that lost somebody close, and you were also there when they needed it most, but you would never be the one having trouble sleeping once the night came and you felt like you didn't do enough. But you understood them now.

You can say you're sorry a million times to Azriel's body laying on the floor. But even if you try hard, he won't come back. The same way you tried to sympathize with your friends, it was helpless, you wouldn't be the one picking up the pieces left of your heart. Now you were. And you felt helpless anyway.

Somebody loses somebody every day, but you'll never really know what it's like till you wake up to some really bad news and the worst scenario you could ever find. You'll never really know how it feels until it happens to you.

You looked around the room, the blood covering everything only made the pain worse. You looked outside, trying to find a starry night, instead, you only found a creature looking back at you, its teeth covered in your mate's blood when the thing seemed to smile at your figure. You only waited for the creature to break the windows and devour you completely, but as it came closer you only felt the wind meeting your skin as the thing breathed against your hair. It was inside the house the whole time, only waiting for you to mourn Azriel's body and relish its work before doing the same to you.

Just as the darkness threatened to consume you entirely, your body jolted awake, every piece of skin drenched in a cold sweat. The nightmare had released its grip on you, but your heart still raced with lingering dread. Trembling, you looked around the room, desperately seeking solace in the comforting embrace of reality. The colors and brightness of your bedroom make itself known as you take in the world around you. The small sounds of night filled you in, the solitude leaving your body.

And then you saw him - Azriel - sitting at the edge of the bed, concern etched across his face. His presence felt surreal as if the boundaries between the nightmare and reality had blurred. Tears of relief welled up in your eyes as you reached out to touch him, fear covering your movements as uncertainty filled you.

- Azriel...is it really you? - Your voice was trembling with disbelief as your hand finally made its way toward his face. Azriel's eyes softened with compassion as he gently took your trembling hand in his, his scars making everything fall into place. The reality and the mating bond.

- Yes, it's me. You had a terrible nightmare, but you're safe now - His voice was raw, he was probably trying to wake you up for some time now. Overwhelmed by emotions, you throw yourself into his waiting arms, holding onto him as if he was your lifeline.

- I thought...I thought I lost you - You whispered, voice quivering with a mixture of fear and relief. Azriel held you tightly, his touch a soothing balm to your shattered emotions.

- I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. Do you want me to stay here a little longer? - At that moment, the nightmare's grip loosened completely, replaced by a newfound strength and resilience.

- I need to tell you something - His eyes widened a bit, and his breathing became uneasy. You realized he felt the tug you gave into that bond between you two - It was horrible to feel this being shredded to pieces as you died in my arms, I couldn't do anything while you disappeared right in front of my eyes.

- I'm here now, I'm fine - He kissed your head and pulled you closer - I woke up when I heard your scream. You were calling my name - He smothered his hand on your arms, warming you with his presence - When I got here you weren't screaming, but I could still hear your voice. I probably heard from…

- The mating bond - You finished the phrase for him, just seeing him nodding - Why didn't you sleep here tonight?

- If I spent one more night at your side without having you being mine completely I would go crazy - He put you to lay down on the bed, quickly getting under the covers with you - I thought I should put some space between us or I would hold you in my arms and never let you go.

- I wouldn't be opposed to this, you know - You said in a whisper, seeing the smile that planted his face as he went closer and closer to you, holding you impossibly near his naked torso, enough heat irradiated from him to warm both of you. His presence became your anchor, his love a guiding light through the darkest of nights - What do we do now?

- Now we sleep, I don't go to train tomorrow so we can talk and figure out how we gonna work this out - His hand traveled to your face, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes - I want you to have in mind that I won't rush you in any way, but I love you and I want this between us. I want you to love me too.

- I already do. I always did - You whispered as you went closer and closer, slowly ending the gap between both of you as you kissed his lips lightly, just a taste of the near future you both could have - I want everything with you, and I don't want to wait. Just to remember the sensation of losing you without getting to live anything makes me anxious.

- It's okay now. I promise I won't leave your side - He wrapped one wing around you, providing a safe space for you both - Get some sleep now, when the sun rises we can talk - He granted one last kiss on the lips before you closed your eyes and hugged him tight.

You stayed entwined in each other's arms, finding solace in the warmth of your embrace. The nightmare may have left scars, but also a sensation of longing for the bond that you would have to fulfill for the rest of your life. The scars would heal with time and you would both find solace in the unbreakable bond you shared.

Garden of Twilight: Part One

Pairing: Rhys x female!Reader

Wordcount: ~10.3k

A/N: I honestly did not believe the first part of this series would be as well received as it has been, but I'm so grateful you all loved it enough to want me to write more. Clearly, I wanted to write more, I had to break this one up into two parts because these characters just wouldn't stop talking to me. I hope you love it as much as I do, I'm sure part two will be just as long, if not longer. And a huge thank you to @redbleedingrose for her constant reassurance that it is, in fact, very good. So if you won't take my word for it, take hers.

Series Masterlist

     The days flow like fine wine into the early weeks of the new year.

     Once word spreads that the newly returned, very eligible High Lord frequents my bookshop, my customer count triples nearly overnight. It seems like one day, I’m keeping up with the flow of customers relatively well, and the next I’m meeting a female Rhys brings into the shop, hoping she can at least keep up with the piles of books continuously stacked on my desk to be reshelved. She’s dressed in Night Court attire, but it’s certainly on the more modest end of the spectrum, and she eyes the blush scarf covering my head with interest the moment she sets her eyes on me.

     Rhys introduces her as Hanita and, though she doesn’t shake my hand, her smile is bright when I greet her. All around us, customers wander up and down the stairs and pick through the shelves, giving my typically quiet, lovely shop the appearance of a bustling beehive. I don’t know how much of this I’ll be able to stand, it’s easily three times the volume of my busiest day last year.

     “Do you have any work experience?” I ask brightly. Hanita tugs at the end of her thick, dark braid as her sharp, russet eyes dart between the levels, following each one up to the glass ceiling.

     “I helped my mother with her stall at the market,” the female says warily, “but it was nothing like this. I can read well enough though, I think I can figure out where everything goes.”

     “Honestly, I’m not used to anything like this myself,” I tell her, gesturing to the crowd forming around the front desk. “The job’s yours if you want it, Cauldron knows we need the help. The female behind the counter is a volunteer, her name’s Mira. Go see if you can help her manage the crowd and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

     Once she’s immersed in the crowd, Rhys takes the opportunity to close the gap between us. His hands remain tucked casually in the pockets of his jacket, as unassuming as ever, but there’s a small smile playing on his full lips as he watches the crowd. I cross my arms and resist the urge to lean into him, though the urge grows harder to fight by the day. I can’t understand how anyone can stand within his orbit and not feel the same pull…though I suppose they do, judging by the amount of females that have been flitting about my shop for a glimpse at him.

     “What’s her story?” I ask carefully, taking a deep, calming breath to quiet my fluttering heart. It’s beginning to get a little warm beneath my scarf, but I can’t necessarily risk removing it while we’re so busy. “Where is she from?”

     “Illyria. One of the smaller war camps- well, what was one of the smaller war camps. What’s left of it’s been absorbed into Windhaven now. Hanita didn’t want to go back and I wasn’t inclined to force her.”

     “She’s Illyrian?” Thoughts of Rhysand’s general come to mind, specifically the magnificent wings he and the shadowsinger bear. “Where-” The cold look on his face leaves me disinclined to finish that sentence. A sick, sinking feeling settles into the pit of my stomach as the realization hits me. “Oh.”

     “Even with my best healers tending to her, it’s taken a few months to get her up and walking again.”

     “I won’t mention it again.” I reassure him, raising a hand to my lips. “I’m sorry.”

     “There’s no way you would have known if I hadn’t mentioned it. She’s healed far better than we’d expected, and I think she’s happy to be able to work again.” His arm brushes against mine and I take another steadying breath. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep my head when he’s this close to me. Any time the High Lord walks into the room, I momentarily forget that air is important, let alone remembering how to breathe. I thought it might get easier with time, but after my last vision, I feel like little more than a shy, fumbling child in his presence. “I’m finalizing the arrangements for her apartment today. Mor will be by later with the key and a copy of the lease agreement.”

     “Is it nearby?” I ask, running the tally in my head of how much a one bedroom apartment would cost, even on this side of the Sidra.

     “It’s only a few minutes north of here. Don’t worry about the cost, pay her whatever you can afford, the rest is taken care of.”

     “How…?” I ask, turning around to get a proper look at him. His face is neutral, but there’s a twinkle of mischief in his stunning violet eyes. “That’s incredibly kind, Rhys.”

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says lightly with a look at the clock. Not even he can hide the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, threatening to break the oh-so-professional High Lord mask he put on this morning, along with that black jacket. Surely his tailor has encouraged him to expand his color range beyond such a lonely color by now. “I’m sorry, I have a meeting I can’t miss. Will I see you later?”

     “If you want.” I shrug, turning back to the growing crowd around my front desk. “I better go sort out the horde before my help runs screaming. You know where to find me.”

     “I do.” His fingers catch the sleeve of my teal jacket. I turn back to see Rhys looking down at me, his brows knit in concern or consternation, I can’t decide which is more accurate. “I would like to have dinner with you tonight. If you’re free, of course.”

     I tilt my head as I study this fearsome High Lord, wanting to meet me for dinner if I’m not busy. What a strange companionship we’ve built over the last several weeks. My eyes flit to the fingers still holding onto my jacket and they immediately fall away, retreating to the safety of his jacket pocket. He hasn’t touched me much since the night he walked me home, in some ways that night feels like it was nothing more than a strange dream. I wear the gloves he’d given me as a reminder that it was not, in fact, all in my head, and we speak nearly every day. I wish I could decide what it is he keeps coming back for.

     The image of the back of my hand covered with that delicate, swirling tattoo flashes in my mind. What would he think if he knew of my vision? It feels wrong to keep it to myself, but I don’t know how to broach the topic. Or if I should. The future is ever-changing, after all, evolving with the whims of those who live it. I shouldn’t be so attached to that vision, but I can’t say the idea is unappealing. It doesn’t take a genius to see the High Lord is a good male who loves his territory.

     Any female would be lucky to have him.

     “It’s all right if you’re busy,” Rhys begins with a small smile and I quickly shake my head, my face heating as I realize precisely how long I’ve been staring at him.

     “No! No, sorry, I’m not busy. It’s…been a long morning,” I mumble, glancing back towards the crowd. “Sorry. Dinner would be lovely, High Lord-”

     “-Rhys-

     “-right, yes, sorry again. Rhys. I’d love dinner. I’m sorry, I should really be getting back-”

     “Go,” he says with a rich, quiet laugh, shaking his head at my obvious embarrassment. “I’ll check back in with you later. Your customers may stage a revolt if they don’t get their books. We certainly can’t have that.”

     “I don’t think they’re here for the books,” I mumble, glancing at the older females hovering at the edge of the group. They only look away when I make eye contact with the willowy one in the middle. How long had they been watching us? The deep chuckle rumbling in the High Lord’s chest rolls through me like thunder. I try to suppress the shiver that runs the length of my spine at the sound of it.

     “Truly, the books are only half of the appeal.” I giggle and turn to ask him what he meant by that, but he’s already through the door, the bell tinkling merrily after him. When I turn back to see the confused looks of the patrons who had been watching us, it dawns on me that he hadn’t spoken the words aloud. My fingers graze my scarf as I check to ensure it’s still in place, not that it would be remotely useful against a daemati. I hadn’t even felt him slip into my mind, but I suppose I wouldn’t know what to look for in the first place.

     I really don’t have the time to be puzzling over this, not with this many people in my shop. I slip behind the desk to relieve Mira, whose crinkled amber eyes dance as she cedes the till to me and drops a stack of books into Hanita’s arms before she bustles the young female off towards the staircase. I throw myself into assisting each of my customers with a smile, even the ones with more impolite questions regarding the High Lord’s presence. Honestly, it’s hard to focus all of my attention on them when I feel the deck of cards at my hand tugging insistently at me. Clearly they have something to say, but I don’t have time or space to indulge them.

     We don’t have a moment to breathe until the shop finally empties in the middle of the afternoon. Mira collapses into a chair near the fire with an audible sigh, sweat-damp wisps of graying hair that have slipped from her practical updo fan around her face.

     “It isn’t always like this?” Hanita asks, wiping her brow with the sleeve of her top. I laugh and shake my head, gesturing broadly towards the chair opposite Mira and the cushions surrounding the low table before finally retrieving my cards from the desk.

     “I promise it’s not, well, it hasn’t been. I’d like to believe it will all settle down soon enough.”

     “Will you still need help if it does?”

     “Mother’s sake, child, have you seen the size of this place?” Mira asks drily as she stretches her legs out before her. “Of course she needs the help, she’s needed the help for a while. You’ll give my old bones a rest and give her the opportunity to take more than a day off.”

     “I’m fine,” I insist with a sigh as I settle myself at the table. The older female opens her mouth to argue, but the bell above the door tinkles and all three sets of eyes turn to it. Roz hobbles in with a tray of tea, a wide grin on her face, and Hanita immediately sets off towards her, clearly intent on helping.

     “I wouldn’t try-” I start, but she doesn’t pay me any mind. Roz turns her calculating hazel eyes on the Illyrian female stalking towards her and jerks her chin back towards the table.

     “You’re new. Take a seat, girl, you look as if the vultures have thoroughly picked you over.”

     “I- sorry?”

     “You heard me, I said sit. Isn’t this the new girl Rhysand mentioned yesterday, savi?” Rhys made the mistake of giving my neighbor permission to use his name the first time they met, much to her delight. I wrinkle my nose at the old nickname and nod, making sure the table is clear enough for her to set the tray down. Hanita follows at her heels, a little dumbstruck, and I almost feel bad for her. Almost. She’d learn sooner or later with Roz that her help would only be appreciated if explicitly requested and not a moment sooner.

     “Her name is Hanita. Hanita, this is Roz, she and Achir own the cafe next door. They also fancy themselves matchmakers.” I shoot the brunette an apologetic smile as I remove my scarf and shuffle my cards, allowing my power to stretch after being contained for so long. “But I think it’s just an excuse to be nosy.”

     “Don’t listen to her,” the elder female says as she settles the tray on the table and begins to pour dark, richly spiced tea into the worn, chipped ceramic mugs she only uses here. “She’s a wicked thing. I have sent plenty of handsome males with hopes of courting her only to watch her turn them away in minutes. Minutes. Males can barely string together a coherent sentence is that little time-”

     “And that’s why I sent them away,” I reply archly, nudging the steaming mug towards the tray so there’s room for my cards to fall where they will. “You sent males who were nice enough, but could barely hold a casual conversation. How do you expect me to fall in love with someone I can’t converse with?”

     “Picky thing.”

     “I don’t know,” Hanita hedges, watching the cards jumping between my hands. “If you want to be loved, I think it’s brave to wait for it.”

     “Doesn’t everyone want to be loved?”

     “Love is nice, but it isn’t…necessary. I’d prefer a good male, someone kind who would be willing to protect and care for a family, should they have one. That is not always a given in matters of the heart.”

     “That is true,” I acquiesce, having seen one too many females my age fall in love with males who made no effort to care for them, to provide for them, to build a home with them. “But neither are they mutually exclusive. I believe you can have love and care. Love and commitment. One does not have to grow from another, you can have both if you’re willing to look for it.”

     A card falls out of the shuffling stack, landing face up. A chalice filled with storm clouds, a crack in the bottom of the glass where the water runs free. Chalices often represent emotions, love. My mother called this one heartstorm, trouble brewing beneath a thin surface that is sure to leak into the world. With enough pressure that chalice can break. When it’s reversed, it symbolizes pouring out one’s troubles, but upright? A storm contained, repressed, breaking the confines of its fragile cage.

     Whatever Hanita or the other ladies say next, I don’t hear it. Another card falls to the table.

     Eyes peering out of a swirling darkness. A nightmare given form. Danger lurking in the dark. Often not a physical danger unless paired with the throne of daggers, but a danger of the mind. Sadness, an encroaching darkness…the next card that falls is a mirror covered with moss and deadly mushrooms, seeing what is hidden within yourself. These three together? Becoming your own worst enemy. Finally, the card I’d been hoping would remain hidden slides out, a throne of battered daggers tipped in rich, dark crimson. Treachery, some sort of betrayal.

     Danger.

     “That looks bad,” Mira murmurs over my shoulder, and my heart leaps as the next card falls out. A pair of swans nestled together, a card that typically represents a happy mating bond, inverted…rejected. “Oh. It keeps getting worse.”

     “I don’t understand,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone here. “I don’t understand who this is-”

     Two cards fall out, their faces stuck together. I peel them apart to reveal the shooting star and the crown of dreams, both inverted. I’m struck with a vision of a dark-haired male sitting at the edge of a rumpled bed, his head in his hands. Traditional Illyrian tattoos span his tense shoulders and trail down his back on either side of his spine, a warrior’s markings on a frame that’s so thin, I can see ribs through the warm, brown flesh. Though I can’t see the male’s face, there’s no mistaking the High Lord of Night for anyone else.

     Oh, Rhys.

     “How can I help?” I whisper, more of a plea to a higher power than a legitimate question. I want to help, no, I need to help. He sacrificed fifty years of his life beneath that mountain, cut off from his territory, from his people, from his family and friends. He lost decades and still did not leave us unprotected. Surely there’s something we can do, something I can do, to ease whatever plagues him. Sadness, betrayal, a rejected mating bond. The sting that my idle comment about mates must have dealt. 

     The card that falls out next gives me an idea.

     I snatch it up and quickly put the rest of the cards back in the deck, clambering to my feet. I feel my scarf slip onto the floor, but I don’t have time to deal with it now. I’ll have to take the risk of being stricken with a vision on my errand, hopefully it will be quick. I drop my deck onto the desk and chance a quick look back at the ladies seated at the table, watching me with wide eyes.

     “I’ll be back in a moment, just…just watch the store, please?”

     “We promise not to burn it down,” Mira says with a small smile, waving me on as Roz looks mournfully at my abandoned tea. If I thought I could carry the mug and not slosh its contents all over me, I’d take it along. As it stands, I’d prefer not to wear it.

     “I promise to be back before the tea is cold! Don’t eat all of the fruit tarts!” I call over my shoulder as I snatch my cloak from the hook by the door and steal out into the last remnants of the cold winter sunshine. And run right into a willowy blonde female dressed in a lovely, royal purple cloak.

     “Oh!” The female’s voice is like a song, rich and vibrant, and I freeze when I realize I’ve heard it before. Slowly, so slowly, I follow the flowing lines of the cloak until I meet a pair of deep, velvety eyes. Her crimson lips curve into a smile as I step back, ducking my head in embarrassment.

     “Sorry, Lady Mor, I didn’t see you.”

     “I had gathered,” she says with a small laugh. “It’s just Mor, by the way. I don’t know that you’ve ever called me Lady Mor before, I don’t think I like it. I’m not sure if Rhys mentioned I’d be by, but he sent me with paperwork and keys for Hanita.”

     “Yes, she’s inside, they’ve just sat down for tea.”

     “You aren’t joining them?”

     “No, I have an errand of my own…but there is an untouched mug that was meant for me, if you’d like to have it instead.”

     “I just might. I was hoping to speak with you a bit, if I’m honest.”

     “Oh? Do you need to order a book?”

     “No, nothing like that,” Mor says, her smile melting into something fond, almost wistful as she looks at me. “I heard my cousin has been spending some time in your shop.”

     “Oh, that. You know how bored people love to gossip. He comes in to read or peruse the shelves, we talk a little, then he goes on his way. It’s nothing, truly.” The words tumble out of me in a hurry to dispel whatever reservations she might have about our relationship, or what others may have perceived our relationship to be. I know I wouldn’t be the first person in anyone’s mind as a match for the High Lord. I’m too common, without even a whisper of noble blood in my lineage; and, though I’m lovely in my own right, I don’t possess the sort of beauty that might attract a male of such standing.

     “Nothing?” she asks, blonde brows rising as she looks at me, her head tilted as if in thought. “Hmm, what a shame. I was thinking you would be a wonderful friend for him to have made.”

     “Oh, well…we are friendly, and I appreciate his company. People have been implying something more and I didn’t want you to think I had…mmm, aspirations. I don’t.”

     “Aspirations,” Mor echoes thoughtfully. I get a brief flash of the eyes in the dark peering up at me from the stack of cards and shake my head, running my thumb over the design of the card I’m clutching.

     “Yes, I- oh, I’m sorry, I really must go. This is a little time sensitive, I think.”

     “Don’t let me keep you. I’ll go in and make myself comfortable, if you intend to be back soon?”

     “I hope to be!” I say as I step around her, flashing a smile before I continue north towards the Rainbow.

     The first shop I stop at is at the edge of the brightly colored arts district. It occupies the bottom floor of a worn, slightly crooked building on the corner of a sleepy intersection. In warmer weather, all of the buildings in this section of town are typically covered in vines of jasmine and moonflowers. If I were ever to give up the cottage, I would want to live in one of the apartments here, with their lovely courtyards and walking distance to the communal garden beds. I tuck that dream away and slip through the weathered teal door into the shadowy embrace of the shop.

     It’s not very large or remotely well lit. The only light source is a large, beautiful hanging brass lantern that mostly illuminates the service counter and the few shelves that line the wall nearby containing little enchanted trinkets. Silver music boxes, small toy boxes with illusions to entertain small children, linked mirrors for communication over a long distance, bottles used to contain a loved one’s scent.

     “Who’s there?” a reedy voice breaks through my observation and draws my attention to the hunched old male behind the counter, staring up at me through large, round glasses with lenses thicker than the bottom of a wine bottle. His blue eyes are hazy and he squints in spite of the spectacles to make out my face as I step up to the counter. “Ah, welcome back! It’s been ages since you were in. How did that book light serve you?”

     “Oh, it works wonderfully, thank you.” I’d given that little iron bookmark with the ball of faelight to Mira nearly a decade ago now. It’s a wonder he remembered it when I had nearly forgotten it myself. “I was wondering if you could do something similar in a bit of a rush.”

     I lay out my idea for him, showing him the card in my hand and explaining the other shop I intend to go into for the piece he’ll need to enchant. The male hums under his breath and sets about leaving through books for the proper enchantments and writes out the total on a receipt that I happily give him the gold for.

     “It won’t be ready until tomorrow afternoon,” he warns me as he drops the money in his till. “Come as late as you can stand it. I have a large order for self-cleaning paint brushes I’ll need to finish first.”

     “I’ll come after I close the bookshop for the day. Thank you so much for your help, I know this is last minute.”

     “Think nothing of it, rush orders guarantee I stay in business. Hurry now, I know that artisan. She’s a lazy girl who looks for any reason to close up.”

     “Thank you!” I tell him on my way out, suppressing a laugh to the best of my ability. I hope no one ever says such things about me. Soon I’m winding through the rainbow, darting around all manner of fae as they peruse the galleries and bakeries and workshops, until I find the shop with a wall of glass facing the streets. Beautiful lanterns hang from display hooks in an array of sizes and colors, some fashioned of brass and copper, others of pure gold and platinum. They’re lovely, but they’re not quite what I’m looking for, so I step inside to look at the tables.

     “Hello!” The fire nymph behind the counter greets me with a small wave. Looking into her wide eyes is like staring into molten lava, the way they shift in the lamplight is almost like the golds and oranges and blacks churning and flowing within the confines of her irises. “Welcome! Have you been in before?”

     “Oh, no, I haven’t. I normally stand outside and look at your displays, but today I actually came to shop. I’m looking for something small that might sit on a nightstand? I’m having it charmed, the enchanter said brass might be the best to ensure longevity.”

     “Any specific colors in mind?”

     “Oh, no, I really need to deliver it to the other shop today.”

     “That won’t be a problem, but I’m afraid I have a variety of colors. Is it meant to be a gift or is it for you?”

     “A gift. If you have anything in blue, the darker the better, or maybe…maybe violet. If you have a design with stars…”

     “Well, this is Velaris, isn’t it?” The nymph laughs, tossing her long, wavy copper hair over a slim shoulder. I show her the card in my hand, motioning to the elements of it I was hoping to imitate, and she nods eagerly. “Hold on, I have a few lamps in the back I’ve just finished that sound like what you may be looking for.”

     She disappears behind a wooden door near far back corner and I hear her rummaging around back there for quite some time until, finally, she reappears with a small, beautiful lantern crafted out of dark brass with small star cutouts and glass that fades from rose to violet to deep, vibrant sapphire, a perfect imitation of the darkening night sky. It’s absolutely perfect.

     “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, lightly trailing the tip of my finger along the edge of one of the panes.

     “What do you think, is it the one?”

     “Oh, yes, I think it’s perfect. I’ll take it.” I willingly hand over the last of the gold in my purse in exchange for a box with the carefully wrapped lantern. Once I’ve dropped it off with the enchanter and made my way back to my little shop, it’s much later than I’d anticipated and the sun is low in the sky. There are a few customers milling about the upper levels, and Hanita is wandering around the third floor with a stack of books tucked in the crook of her arm while Mira minds the desk, perched on a stool I typically keep tucked away.

     “That was quite an errand,” the older female remarks as she watches me hang my coat back on the hook by the door. “Roz went back to the cafe, but you have company waiting with more tea. Hope you’re hungry, she brought enough fruit tarts to feed an army.”

     “Thanks, Mira. Sorry I’m so late,” I murmur, tucking my card back in with the deck on the desk and rewrapping it before I head back to the table before the fire. Mor is curled on one of the thicker cushions with her arms braced on the table as she looks through a thin book bound in worn blue leather. Not one of mine, I would have remembered if I sold it to her. A mug of tea sits near her right hand, lighter than the pot I’d left behind, smelling of sweet honey and raspberries. There is a box near the teapot and spare mug filled with fruit tarts and sweet rolls that brings my stomach roaring to life. I hadn’t realized how much of an appetite I’ve worked up.

     “Welcome back,” Mor says, glancing up at me with a warm grin. “I’m afraid we did, in fact, eat the last of the fruit tarts. But I ordered more! The boys will be glad to eat what we don’t.”

     “Will they?” I flop down onto one of the cushions with a sigh, my back and feet aching from all of the running around I’d done. As Mor fills the empty cup for me, I pluck my nicely folded scarf from the corner of the table and begin to drape it over my head again.

     “Oh yes. By boys, I do mean almost exclusively Cassian. Azriel might get one if he’s lucky, and Rhys…well, from what Roz said, he prefers the nut rolls.”

     “He does,” I murmur, unable to keep the smile from my face. On the mornings Rhys has dropped by the cafe first, he always comes bearing one of Roz’s fresh nut rolls that fills the building with the scent of toasted pecans and the lovely thin, sweet caramel glaze I’ve never been able to replicate. I think she’s even begun to make them more than once a day, just so she’s prepared with a fresh batch any time he might come by. I raise the steaming tea to my lips once the cup is full and happily sip the sweet brew.

     Then I look up to find Mor watching me with a smile of her own. I clear my throat and place the tea back on the table in favor of a fruit tart filled with dark, lush berries commonly found in Illyria. The coarse sugar Roz used to top the tart creates a lovely contrast with the buttery, flaky crust and rich fruit filling. These are my favorite of her winter tarts, so I take my time working my way through one while the High Lord’s cousin continues to leaf through her book, grinning to herself. Once I finish, I clear my throat.

     “You wanted to speak to me, Mor?”

     “I did.” The book before her closes with a slight creak and vanishes with a wave of her hand. “I wanted to thank you, actually. For being so kind to Rhys and making him feel welcome in your shop.”

     “You’re thanking me for being kind to the High Lord?” I ask, furrowing my brow as I stare at her.

     “No,” the blonde says with a small laugh, shaking her head. “I am thanking you for being kind to Rhysand, my cousin. If you do not already know there is a difference between the two, I believe you’ll discover it quickly.”

     “He is always both,” I tell her with a shrug before admitting, “but the majority of his recent visits have been more casual in nature, friendly. I…I think we’re becoming friends, or something like that.”

     “I think you are,” Mor agrees. “I think that’s precisely what he needs, a friend. Someone separate from his duties to his court, who can just be there. It’s important to have that sort of separation, especially after…everything he’s been through.”

     “Has he, uhm…talked about it with you?” All of that lost time would weigh on anyone. And, truly, none of us have any idea what was happening in Amarantha’s court beyond what little had been said in the High Lord’s absence. Though I have not seen any physical scars left from the experience, he remains pale and drawn most of the time, carrying out his duty to the court and seemingly deriving little joy from it. From the little I’ve observed, he goes through the motions much like an enchanted toy.

     “Only once. I expect you haven’t really discussed it, have you?”

     “No. We talk about books or philosophy, I’m always surprised by how voraciously he reads anything I recommend.”

     “Rhys always loved books,” she says, her smile turning fond. “When we were children, we’d spend a lot of time in the Hewn City family library to escape our fathers and court duties. There was nothing he wouldn’t read, I’m happy to hear that hasn’t changed. Rhys likes to think and he likes to be challenged, he’s never liked having anything handed to him. Well, except maybe Roz’s nut rolls, apparently.”

     I chuckle into my tea as I take another sip, weighing the information in my mind. Yes, that all sounds like the male I’ve been getting to know. The few notes I’ve managed to observe him taking over his reading have been riddled with questions and smudged ink, as he often formed new ideas in the middle of the note he was already making. I imagine it would be infuriating for anyone else to try and make sense of.

     “Yes, I think I’ve noticed that as well. We were discussing a chapter of a philosophy book he was reading the other day, something about freedom, I think. Something about what it means to be free and do we truly have free will within the confines of a society- honestly, I don’t recall how that conversation ended. I remember thinking that he does love to try and see all sides of an argument.”

     “Like a dog with a bone,” she agrees, taking a bite of her own tart. “I think he likes the satisfaction of knowing he may have influenced an opinion by providing any and every available argument, even if the outcome was the same.”

     “Why do you think that is?”

     “Oh, I know why that is. Residents of Velaris and the smaller villages have a very different view of the High Lord than Hewn City residents, and that’s amplified tenfold anywhere beyond the borders of our territory. Especially now. I don’t think he enjoys knowing there are people who believe him, and the rest of us, to be monstrous based on rumors or outdated information on how our court was ruled. It’s partially our fault, in some respects. To keep Velaris as a safe haven, in the past our court has deemed it necessary to perpetuate those ideals, but after what happened- what he had to do to keep us safe…I don’t know, but I think his perspective may be changing.”

     “That sounds heavy,” I murmur, breaking off a piece of crust to keep my hands busy.

     “It can be. He’s always insisted it’s his burden to bear, any time a hard call had to be made, and I’m certain he stands by that statement to this day.”

     “So why are you telling me this?”

     “Because you have decided to be his friend,” she says lightly, “which is wonderful. You are so kind, and I believe he needs and deserves that kindness, especially now. I suppose I want to urge you to walk into this relationship, however it may unfold, with your eyes wide open. His path is not an easy one, and sometimes it can be difficult to walk at his side. It is a hard truth that it is not for everyone, he is not for everyone, but I hope that does not deter you.”

     “It does not,” I say, glancing up from my tart. When I meet Mor’s gaze, I get the sense that she’s looking into the heart of me, verifying the truth of my words. After a long, silent moment, she gives a short nod and smiles a little to herself as she takes another sip of her tea.

     “Then I hope to see you around more often. Now, tell me, is there anything new in the romance section? Anything at all. I’m dying for something new to read, but I feel as though I’ve read every book on the shelf twice over.”

     “Not yet,” I tell her with an apologetic smile. “I’ve heard from some of our local printers that there will be a few new releases next month for me to stock, but it’s looking more barren than usual these days.”

     “I wonder why,” she says drily, and we’re both silent for a beat before breaking out into giggles, which only worsens when the male we’d been discussing walks through the door. There’s a brief lull in conversation as the ladies on the upper levels pause to get a nice, long look at him, which only makes us laugh harder.

     “Oh, I don’t know if I like this,” Rhysand says lightly as he stops at the end of the table. “What could be so funny as to have you both in hysterics?”

     “You’re early,” Mor says once she has calmed a little, which is about the same time I manage to blurt between breaths: “We’re not hysterical.”

     “Then why are you winded?” He asks as he drops onto the cushion beside Mor. “Oh, fruit tarts. Did Roz make these?”

     “Of course she made them,” Mor says, closing the lid on the box once he’s snatched one out of it. “But I thought you were eating out tonight?”

     “I am.” Those lovely violet eyes flick to me. “Will you be joining me?”

     “Yes.” I drain the last of my tea before casting a guilty look at Mira and the steadily growing piles of books on the desk, ready to be reshelved. “If I can get this place closed down in a decent amount of time. You might be better off going on without me.”

     “Absolutely not. What needs to be done?”

     “Well, shelving to start. Poor Hanita hasn’t even been here a day, I wouldn’t blame her for not staying on at the rate she’s having to shelve books.”

     “That’s easily done,” he says with a nod. “What else?”

     “Once everyone’s gone, I’ll have to balance the till, put out the fire, sweep-”

     “I’ll work on reshelving,” Mor says as she pops the last bite of her tart in her mouth. “But you’re stuck with sweeping, Rhysie.”

     “Fine,” Rhys says, vanishing the rest of his tart and the box Mor had on the table, along with the teapot and empty mugs. His cousin squawks at her missing treats, but he waves her off with a belabored, “it’s at home, it’ll be waiting when you get there.”

     “It better be! And the other overgrown bats had better not get to them first, Rhysand, or you’ll owe me so many treats.”

     “Have you been putting up with this all afternoon?”

     I laugh at the indignation in his voice and give him a shrug as I climb to my feet after her. “Oh, she was far nicer to me. Mor, are you sure you know where all of those go?”

     “If I don’t, I’ll find out!” The blonde says cheerfully as she whisks a stack off of the corner of the desk. Hanita pauses on the bottom stair to watch Mor flounce past her with a slightly awed expression. Honestly, I can’t blame her, the High Lord’s cousin is a whirlwind in fae form. It truly feels as if it’s Morrigan’s world and we’re all merely living in it.

     “She means well,” Rhys says, his voice suddenly closer than I’d anticipated. I hadn’t heard him stand, much less begin following me towards the desk, and I press my hand to my chest to feel my heart racing furiously beneath it. “I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

     “You move so quietly.” I duck my head as my cheeks flood with heat, embarrassed at being caught off guard. He always seems to do that to me. I feel his hand settle between my shoulderblades, his touch light enough to be shrugged off if I were inclined to. I’m not. “You really don’t have to help, I can manage the sweeping-”

     “Oh no, I haven't swept anything since I was a soldier in the barracks. I’m sure it’s good for me.”

     “I’m sure,” I agree, suppressing a giggle as I step away from him. This playful back and forth feels like a dance I don’t know, but it’s one I’m eager to learn. Sidling up to Mira at the desk, I lean in conspiratorially to whisper, “Mira, would you mind showing the High Lord where the broom is?”

     “The…broom?” Mira glances back over her shoulder, then casts me a scandalized look. “Surely you don’t mean to have the High Lord sweep-”

     “Oh, she does. She said I’d have to sweep the shop if I intend to take her to dinner.” Now it’s my turn to look at the male currently leaning against the side of my desk, smirking at me with such easy arrogance and a spark in those twilight eyes that sends a shiver down my spine. Just when I open my mouth to protest that I had not, in fact, said that, he turns those eyes on Mira and I have to fight not to cackle as she immediately glances down at the receipt book, blushing fiercely. “You’ll show me where to find the broom, won’t you, Mira? I made a reservation I’d hate to be late for.”

     A reservation. My mouth falls open and I fight to say something intelligible, but all that comes out is a mildly offended grunt that makes Hanita look twice at me as she grabs another stack of books from the desk. I’m hardly dressed to go anywhere in this city one would need a reservation for. This time it’s Mira’s turn to laugh at me and she does, a full-bodied cackle at my expense.

     “Get out of here before I fire you both!” My perturbed tone only serves to make her laugh harder, but Hanita’s alarmed expression has me waving her off with an apologetic smile. “Not you, Hanita, you’re safe until you start teasing me, too. Finish that stack and you can go. Honestly, I can get the rest of them.”

     “I’ll get the rest of them,” Mira says reassuringly to the younger female, “after I show this one where the broom is. You go home, girl, you worked hard today. I’ll see you in the morning and show you how to open the shop.”

     “O-okay,” Hanita murmurs uncertainly, nodding as she steps away, her eyes searching the upper levels as she walks towards the stairs. The last few customers just filed out of the shop empty-handed, which I’m assuming was Mor’s doing, and I’m not sure if I should thank her for throwing people out or not.

     Once I’m alone at my desk, I quickly count the till and reconcile the balance with the receipt book to ensure the numbers line up. Mira always keeps phenomenal records, so the task is finished in no time and the funds are locked away in the safe by the time Mira and Hanita are pulling on their own cloaks and bidding me farewell, the rest of the books having been split between them. The lanterns dim the moment the fire goes out, and I turn to see the High Lord finishing up sweeping near the hearth.

     “You’re telling me Rhys actually swept?” Mor’s voice carries across the room as she hops down the final step, brushing her hands against her fine clothes. “I thought he’d use magic to get rid of the dust.”

     “How lazy do you think I am?” Rhys replies before I get the opportunity, clearly intent on defending his honor.

     “I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

     “I appreciate it, Rhys, thank you.” I tell him, hopefully heading off an argument before it can actually begin. I don’t believe we’ll make it in time for Rhys’s reservation if they start bickering now. I didn’t have a close family growing up, not in the way they are. I never experienced what it’s like to have someone to pick at for the joy of it. It must have been fun, growing up with a cousin so close in age. And a sister…well, perhaps I’ll ask about her another day. Not today. “It looks wonderful.”

     “Wonderful, she says,” Mor turns her teasing on me with a dazzling smile. “You’re so nice.”

     “Don’t you have someone else to torment?” Rhys asks, his back to us as he places the broom in the thin closet tucked away between two of the shelves lining the walls.

     “Of course, Cassian and Azriel are supposed to be home tonight.”

     “They’re home.” The High Lord’s voice is smooth and certain as he eyes his cousin before he summons a thick, plain black coat to ward away the winter chill. “Take Amren with you, I’m sure she needs company.”

     “Have you told her I’m coming?”

     “And give her a chance to hide away? No. Tell her I’ll want to speak with her later tonight, she might be more inclined to accompany you without a fuss.”

     “Do you really need to talk to her?”

     “I do.” The minute he considers the matter settled, he looks to me and I straighten a little, remembering I’m actually present in the room and am not simply observing them from a distance. “Are you ready?”

     “Let me get my cloak.” Thankfully, my gloves and earmuffs are in the pocket, so by the time they meet me at the door, I’m ready to go back out in the cold.

     “Will you be warm enough?” Rhys asks as Mor leaves us with little more than a brief wave. I usher him out the door and lock it behind us, slipping my keys into my pocket before I turn around to see him watching me. His elbow is angled slightly away from his body and I slip my hand into it without a thought. “Would you prefer to winnow?”

     “I like the walk, don’t you?”

     “You worked all day, I want you to be comfortable.”

     “So did you.”

     “A different sort of work, nothing quite so physical. You’ve been quite busy since the turn of the year.”

     “I have.” Are we going to talk about the eyes that always seem to follow us? The uptick in patrons to my shop hoping to catch sight of him? I wait for Rhys to press on but he doesn’t, and we slip into a comfortable silence that finds its way between us more often than not. I can’t bring myself to sit in it though, not tonight. Not after the glimpse of a vision I’d had earlier. “Did you have a good day?”

     “It was fine. I spent it in meetings with various lords and a steward who’d rather put a knife in my back than work with me, but we managed to get a few of the items on their very long list taken care of. I’d call it a success.”

     “Would you?” I ask warily. “How can you work with someone like that?”

     “How can I not?” He counters gently, squeezing the hand tucked into his elbow. “They are in my territory under my protection. I cannot pick which of my citizens I serve, though there are days I certainly would like to.”

     “You mean High Lords don’t get to do whatever they want?” His mouth quirks at my teasing, but the expression on his face falls to something more grim as we walk. It’s like watching a mask slip away.

     “I wish that were true. Perhaps it is for some, I don’t claim to know how the others rule their territories, but for mine? No, I do not get to do whatever I want.”

     “What would you do if you could?”

     “Now that is a dangerous question.” His tone is far darker and more contemplative than I’d bargained for. In that moment, it’s like I’ve stepped into a cold, bottomless pit: my stomach flutters anxiously and a chill racks my body. Then the feeling is gone as quickly as it came, swept away on an early evening breeze. “It doesn’t really matter what I would do if I didn’t have to consider the consequences. I do consider them, some days I feel all I do is consider the possible ramifications of the choices I have made or will make.”

     “That sounds exhausting.”

     “Oh, it is.” Rhys glances down at me and smiles then, though it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and I tighten my grip on his arm. “So maybe you’ll understand why I don’t mind shelving the occasional book or sweeping your floors by hand. It’s nice to be able to give someone help that isn’t going to require much from me.”

     It’s nice to just be useful. It’s a sentiment I understand very well, unfortunately, so I nod to acknowledge the truth he’s revealed about himself. I mull over my own history and I think about giving him a truth of my own. Would he even care to know it? Would it even help?

     “My mother was a Seer, too,” I began hesitantly, toying with a loose thread on my sleeve. “It’s common in her family line for at least one daughter to be one. My mother had it worse than the few of her cousins or aunts that had inherited the gift: she spent most of her life trapped in visions, she was never able to work outside of our home, these scarves I wear stopped working for her long before they had me. I wasn’t able to work until after they both passed, I spent a lot of days trapped at home with her and I’d try to get her out, to…I don’t know, enrich her life however I could, but it’s impossible to help someone who doesn’t even know you’re there most days. So I kept busy, I cleaned, I read to her even when she couldn’t hear me…I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, except to say that I suppose I understand, to an extent, the desire to be helpful in some small way that makes a difference. And maybe I can understand what it’s like to not feel as though your life is truly your own, that your actions have a direct effect on others. It can be very lonely, trying to consider everything at once on a small scale. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

     “I love my territory and my people, so it isn’t a burden but…yes, sometimes I believe it would be significantly easier if I cared less.”

     “The fact that you care at all is what makes you a good leader, Rhys. I hope you know that.”

     “And yet, it still isn’t enough,” he says lightly. “Here we are. Have you been here before?”

     The here in question is a little restaurant on the harbor built around the base of what had been a crumbling lighthouse. Velaris’s first lighthouse, if the stories are to be believed. The property had been purchased during our period of total isolation, and what remained of the lighthouse was restored before the rest of the structure was built out of the pine the lumberyard had left from the Illyrian mountains. In the spring and summer, it’s covered with jasmine and the hummingbirds flock to it. I can picture their little, jeweled bodies eagerly darting between the flowering vines for a delicious meal, much to the delight of the customers eating on the roof.

     But that’s spring.

     Now, in the cold embrace of winter, the vines are dormant and large, jewel-toned lamps are placed between tables, enchanted to heat the space as well as give off adequate light. It doesn’t look like there’s anyone up there tonight, the first I’ve seen since the restaurant opened. Rhys ushers me to the ochre-colored door in time for it to swing open. A willowy dryad greets us with a smile, and the thin, braided vines that flow over her shoulder begin to sprout the most beautiful, delicate magnolia blossoms I’ve ever seen. The scent of them permeates the air around us, and I begin to feel a little lightheaded, almost intoxicated, after a couple of breaths.

     “High Lord,” she says with a curtsy, her voice like a warm breeze through the heart of the forest. “Lady. Thank you for dining with us this evening. My name is Bahaar, can I take your outerwear? Thank you, it will be hanging just back here, let me know if you’d like me to bring it to you. Please allow me to show you to your table.”

     I’d interrupt to tell her I’m not a lady, at least not the sort she must think I am, but Rhys seems to take it in stride and settles his hand on my lower back, urging me to follow her. I don’t know if I can reliably draw breath anymore, let alone make my feet work. I know I’m blushing, but I’m powerless to stop it.

     “You have a lovely restaurant,” he says idly as we wind through an empty dining room set with tablecloths in lovely, rich fabrics and dinnerware that seems to be made of pure gold. “Isn’t it normally busier?”

     “My husband and I shifted the rest of our reservations for half an hour after your arrival, High Lord, so I could seat the both of you without having to worry about a crowded restaurant. I hope you don’t mind.”

     “I don’t, but I don’t mind the crowd either.” It’s not much of a lecture, but the intent behind the statement is clear: do not make allowances for me. I’m still one of you…but I don’t know that he’s ever truly been one of us, has he? How can he, when his position will always set him apart? Bahaar nods and the flower petals flutter like they’re dancing in a breeze. I can’t help but wonder if she has problems with bees in warmer weather, but maybe a dryad doesn’t see bees as a problem.

     We weave through the tables until we reach the curved brick of the original lighthouse and she leads us up the creaky wooden stairs lit with golden faelights. Up and up we spiral until we emerge into the cool night breeze, made infinitely more tolerable by the heated lamps, and we follow her to the low table in the corner near the water, surrounded by sumptuous silk cushions. A thin, tasseled blanket is thrown over the railing beside us, the same color as the wine-dark sea flowing into the harbor. A ceramic bowl of water sits in the middle of the table, where floating candles and fragile magnolia petals drift lazily in a slowly churning whirlpool. A tower of dark fruits and cheeses sits at the edge of the table, and the High Lord ensures I’m settled before he takes a seat across from me.

     “We have bottles of starfruit wine or a spiced pomegranate mead,” Bahaar says and I shrug when Rhys looks at me, ambivalent about the choice. The dryad takes pity on us almost immediately and interjects with, “the wine will pair well with the cheese and fruit, I’ll bring it first. The mead will best compliment tonight's stew, if that sounds acceptable?”

     “It sounds wonderful, thank you.” I smile up at her and the female returns it with one of her own before excusing herself with a short bow. When I turn back to Rhys, he’s looking out at the twilight sky stretching over the harbor. His golden skin is warm in the firelight, and I clench my fists in my lap to deter myself from reaching across the table to touch him. Bahaar returns shortly with two glasses of pale, shimmering starfruit wine, and I take a sip of it to give myself something to do. It’s light and sweet, and I think if I were to swallow a falling star, this would be what it tasted like. After another long few moments of studying the High Lord, silhouetted against the starlit sky, I ask softly, “where did you go?”

     Rhys hums a little, shaking his head before he looks back at me and manages a small smile. “Nowhere. I’m sorry.”

     “Why do you look so sad, Rhys?”

     “I am sad,” he admits, taking a sip of his wine. “I’m trying not to be.”

     “It’s okay if you are, sometimes you need to be sad for a while. Do you want to talk about it?”

     “No.” He shakes his head and inky-black hair falls over his forehead, shielding his eyes from view as he focuses on plating fruit and cheese for us both. “There isn’t much to discuss, if I’m honest, the situation isn’t something I have any control over. I’m trying to learn how to live with it.”

     “And you don’t think talking about it will help?”

     “Not tonight. Maybe after tomorrow it will be easier, I don’t know, but I didn’t come here with you tonight to discuss that.”

     “What would you like to discuss?”

     “You.” When he looks up again, his hair falls away from his eyes and it’s like he’s truly seeing me for the first time since we sat down. The soft, warm smile that lights his face makes my heart flutter. “I want to hear more about you, about your life. Both of your parents are gone now, but it seems you were fairly close to them, weren’t you?”

     “I was. I miss them very much.” Too much, if I’m honest. I miss reading with my mother and midnight talks over tea with my father once he’d finished work for the day. “I think my father is the reason I have a hard time taking days off. He never really had many, he worked most days from dawn to well past dusk to provide a comfortable life for my mother and I, and now…without them, I’m not really sure what to do with myself. Renovating the shop took a lot of time and community effort, once that was finished I didn’t know what to do, so I just…worked. Mira was a regular customer until one day she asked if I needed any help. I did, but I couldn’t pay her at the time, and she’s refused money whenever I’ve offered it. I think she was bored in retirement.”

     “And what about you?”

     “What about me?”

     “You have a successful business, have you thought of what you might like to do next? Take up a hobby? Do some traveling?”

     “Traveling?” Rhys looks puzzled when I laugh at him, so I take another sip of my wine and take a bite out of the blood orange slice on my plate before I answer. “High Lord, I do rather well for myself and I don’t have any outstanding debts. I can’t winnow, I don’t have the sort of money it would take to travel. But I’ve thought about where I’d go. To the continent, perhaps, to Montesere or Rask, maybe Ravennia if there’s a way to do it safely. I’d like to see the world, but I’ve never had the opportunity to step beyond my front door, not even to neighboring territories. I was born in Velaris, I’ll probably die here without seeing much of it.”

     “Maybe not,” he says slowly, taking a bite of soft, flaky white cheese. “Where would you go first?”

     “In a perfect world, where there’s never been any conflict?”

     “Sure.”

     “I miss spring,” I say with a sigh. Rhys flinches at the word and my brow furrows as I study him. “I miss the world being green and full of flowers and life, so I expect I’d like to visit one of the warmer courts. Truly, Winter is last on my list to see, but…”

     “But you miss flowers,” he says in a hollow tone. “Somewhere green. Where…where else?”

     “I want to see something I’ve never seen before. Something centuries old that’s stood the test of time. Old temple ruins or a holy well or…I don’t know. Something incredible.”

     “Something incredible.” This time his voice isn’t so haunted, there’s life in his eyes when he nods at me over his wine. “I believe I know just the thing. Give me a few days to do a little research of my own, but by the end of the week, I should have something to show you that isn’t very far at all.”

     “What are you planning?” I laugh, popping a few pomegranate seeds into my mouth.

     “You’ll see.” My heart soars when he winks at me, then I hear the door open and I look back to see Bahaar leading a small crowd to a table far from ours. I’m a little chilled in spite of the heaters, so I pull the blanket from the rail and lay it across my lap. “Are you warm enough, would you like my jacket?”

     “Oh, I’m fine. It’s only a bit of a chill, I’m sure once the stew arrives I’ll be plenty warm. Now, what about you, Rhys? What do you want?”

     “What do I…want?” He blinks slowly at me, as though I’ve said something strange he hadn’t once thought about. “I want to see my territory thriving, to ensure we’re safe…that we’re all safe. And then, I suppose, I want to live in peace. I’ve seen enough war and bloodshed to hope I can avoid conflict for the rest of my days.”

     “And nothing else?”

     “What do you mean?”

     “You don’t wish to travel yourself? What about a family, a wife?” He snorts derisively and I tilt my head. “Someone to keep you company, does that not appeal to you?”

     “I have company, don’t I? No, I know it’s not the same, but I’ve had centuries to think about it and the last fifty years to realize that any wife I may take would have a target painted on her back, and that goes for any children I sire. And who would choose that? I could never ask it of anyone, it’s not worth it.”

     “I don’t agree,” I murmur, shaking my head. “I know the other courts might think us monstrous, but are we really so reviled-”

     “Not us,” he says too softly. “Me. I have done horrendous things over the last fifty years and made myself quite the monster. I don’t believe there is anyone beyond this court who will ever see me as more than a nightmare, with good reason.”

     “Did you have any other choice?”

     “I truly wish I had.” When his shadowed eyes meet mine, I can’t take the pain bubbling beneath the surface and reach across the table to rest my hand on his. He doesn’t pull away.

     “Then you did what you had to do. I don’t care what the world thinks of you, Rhysand, I know you’re not a monster. And when you find someone who chooses you, I hope you let her stay and love you. You deserve to be loved.”

    He opens his mouth to say more, but once glance over my shoulder has him drawing himself up, and I swiftly remove my hand from his. Bahaar sets two bowls of thick, spiced stew filled with chunks of beef and pomegranate seeds before us, along with smaller bowls filled with sticky rice and two glasses of mead. I’ll take up the mantle of this conversation another day, perhaps, when the subject isn’t such an open wound. For tonight, dinner will be enough. I’ll speak of softer things and think of spring, when things will be warm and alive again.

Ladies and gentlemen, I got an 8,5 oh yes the politics genius right here!!!! If my baby boy #rhysand wants to make me his high lady he better know I can easily RULE Prythian if he asks me to 😎😎😎

I swear politics it's my thing and if i don't get at least an 8 on the exam tomorrow I will jump myself out of a building (a chair)

training w/ cassian? and cassian accidentally hurts the reader?

LOOKS WHO IS BACK (im truth I never went away, the thing is, I'm trying to write smut for Azriel AND I SIMPLY CAN'T WRITE SMUT IT DOESN'T WORK MY MIND DOESN'T WORK ANYTHING WORKS, so I'll just make this one for cassie baby and figure azriel story later)

My first one for this bat boy, and now the trio is officially complete in my blog, thank you all

I have two more to publish already, THE biggest I wrote till now

ENJOY

Trigger Warnings: mentions of misogyny, trauma and violence

Scars

The training area of the House of the Wind was spacious, equipped with various training dummies, weapons, and mats for sparring. Cassian had offered some weeks ago to train with you to help you build skills and confidence in self-defense. Since the first time he noticed how much of a scared animal you looked every time a male approached you too fast. He was actually the one who alerted his brothers of your uneasiness and told them to be more gentle around you.

You felt deeply thankful for his help, sometimes even sharing with him your past experiences with your almost-husband back in the Autumn Court. He looked mad every time and even offered to kill the male for you, and every time you said that destiny was going to take care of that male. Of course, destiny had a name and was the General of the Night Court but still. The news of your past lover's death hitted you with a strange sensation of relief and safety. Along with a bit of joy qhen you noticed the biggest smile you ever saw on Cassian's face the next day.

Now you stood facing each other, each wearing practice swords and wearing light training armor after finally finishing the endless warm up.

- Alright, let's finally start with some basic swordplay today. Remember, the key is not just strength, but also agility and strategy. Remember every tip, every position and the right way to hold the weapon. A sword is never dangerous enough if not used in the correct way - Cassian said with a grin as you nodded, a determined expression on your face.

You quickly began circling each other, and Cassian threw a few light swings on your way, testing your reflexes. You blocked them with ease, gaining more confidence with each successful parry.

- You're doing great, keep doing this way - Cassian encouraged - Now, try to counter-attack after you block my strikes.

As you continued the practice, you focused intently, feeling a growing sense of accomplishment with each successful move and praise from your trainer. Your past experiences had left you feeling vulnerable all the time, a cloud of fear passing over your head all day, thundering when a male would approach. But with Cassian's guidance, you were slowly reclaiming your sense of power and autonomy.

Cassian was honestly impressed by your progress. You are a quick learner and showed natural talent with each passing day. He could see the determination in your eyes, and it reminded him of himself when he was a child first learning to fight in those old camps. After a few more minutes of practice, Cassian suggested moving on to fast sparring instead of sword fighting, just to call it an end for the day's training.

- This will help you apply what you've learned in a more dynamic setting - He explained quickly.

You set aside the practice swords and began a controlled sparring session, trying to tag each other without using full force. Cassian observed your movements, offering occasional pointers or praises for your efforts. As you sparred, you seemed to become more immersed in the training, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. For a moment, the memories of the past started to fade away, replaced by the thrill of the present moment.

Then, during a moment of distraction, you left your right side open, and Cassian took advantage of the opportunity. He aimed a gentle, playful punch at your head, but it landed a bit harder than he intended, jostling you slightly.

Your hand flew to your head instinctively, and though the punch didn't cause any real pain, it was enough to trigger something buried deep inside you. The memories of past humiliations and the feeling of being powerless came flooding back, overwhelming you.

Suddenly, you dropped the attack position and clutched your head settling down on the ground as your breath began to quicken when the panic set in. Cassian immediately stopped, concern etched on his face. Your name dropped out his mouth but you couldn't listen, even if your body stayed there, your mind was very far away.

A flood of emotions engulfed you, and your mind became a battleground of memories you had long tried to suppress. The punch had inadvertently brought back vivid recollections of the time you spent in the Autumn Court, where you were born and raised. It was a place filled with cruelty, disrespect, and humiliation towards a good part of their females. In that moment of vulnerability, the echoes of past insults and belittling comments resurfaced. You remembered being disrespected and devalued, your worth reduced to nothing more than an object of amusement for others. The memories of invasive male attention, the objectification, and the constant feeling of powerlessness were overwhelming.

You felt trapped in a sea of emotions, unable to escape the suffocating weight of your past. You were paralyzed by the fear that you could still be the helpless, broken person you once was. In those moments, you felt the walls around your heart closing in, as if you were back in that dark place you fought so hard to escape. The emotions were raw, and you struggled to differentiate between the past and the present.

Amidst the chaos within, Cassian's voice reached your ears, gentle and reassuring. He was kneeling beside you, his concerned eyes offering you a way out of that nightmare.

- Hey, hey, it's okay - He said, the same way he's been repeating all the time, his voice soothing - I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Take deep breaths, you're safe here. I'm sorry - His words were like a guiding light, slowly pulling you back from the abyss.

You took shuddering breaths, trying to focus on the reality of the training area, on Cassian's presence, and on the fact that you were still safe in the House of the Wind. His words were soothing, but it took a few moments for you to regain control of your emotions. You looked up at him, tears forming in your eyes.

- I'm so sorry - You said while trying to dry the tears you didn't even feel them going down your face. Ashamed with the way you reacted you bent down your head, looking at the training floor.

- You have nothing to apologize for - Cassian said, his voice tender - I never should have thrown that punch, even playfully. I should have been more careful. I'm really sorry if i hurted you.

Even if you knew intellectually that it wasn't his fault, you couldn't help but feel guilty for your own reaction. You were frustrated with yourself for being so affected by the past, for letting it creep into the present and ruin such a good moment you were living. As you calmed down, wiping away the tears, you managed a faint reassuring smile.

- No, it's not your fault, it didn't hurt at all. It just brought back some bad memories from the past - You took a few more deep breaths, trying to steady yourself.

- I should have been more sensitive, then. I'm really sorry for triggering those memories - Cassian's expression softened with understanding.

As he sees you're recovering from the panic attack, he feels a wave of relief wash over him. He hates that he caused you pain, even if it was unintentional. He sits beside you, his concern etched on his face.

- I'm so sorry, I would never hurt you deliberately - he says earnestly when you finally look at him, your eyes still slightly teary but filled with understanding.

- I know you didn't mean to hurt me - You replied, managing a small smile - And thank you for calming me down and being there for me. It means a lot.

- You don't need to thank me. I care about you deeply, and I hate to see you in pain. You're such a strong and remarkable person, and I can't help but admire you for who you are - He takes your hand gently on his own, feeling its coldness he quickly wraps his other hand to heat it.

- Why would you say such things? - Your cheeks blush a soft pink as you look away, trying to process his words - I'm just a regular person, Cassian. Nyx's babysitter after all. Nothing special.

- No, you are so much more than that - Cassian shakes his head, determination in his eyes - You have a heart of gold, and your courage and resilience are truly inspiring. I see the way you handle Nyx, and it's clear how much he adores you - His eyes were so full of love that you couldn't think of a way to react - And, on top of all that, you are stunningly beautiful - You were taken aback by his compliments, not used to receiving such genuine praise.

- I-I don't know what to say - You stammer, feeling both flattered and embarrassed - But thank you for being here and helping me through it. You're really kind, Cassian.

- Of course, I'll always be here for you - He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, still holding you with his other one - And I meant what I said earlier. You're strong, brave, and incredibly talented. Don't let those bad memories hold you back. You deserve to live your life to the fullest - Though you appreciated his words, you still struggled with the lingering vulnerability and self-doubt.

- I'll try my best. And I do want to keep training if you were wondering - You joke and start to get up helping him too as you both face each other again.

- I'm glad to hear that. We'll take it at your pace, and I promise to be more mindful from now on - Cassian smiled warmly, but his smile quickly dropped as he stopped to think, concern making itself noticeable on his expression.

- What happened? Is something wrong? - You asked, genuine care carrying your voice.

- Nothing, I just… - He takes a step closer to you, his height towering over your figure. He made a move to higher up his hand, waiting for your reaction. Noticing his move you inched your face closer, giving permission for him to touch you and speak his mind - Look, I don't want to put pressure on you, and I certainly didn't plan to say this now, but I can't keep it inside anymore. I love you, not just because of what you've been through, but for who you are. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was afraid of triggering painful memories on you if I went too step forward - You pause for a moment, taking in his confession. Then, a genuine smile graces your lips.

- You really mean that? - You ask excitedly, joy filling every part of your heart now.

- Every word - Cassian replies, his voice steady and certain. Your smile widens, and you feel more at ease than you have in weeks.

- Well then, I have to say that I care about you too, Cassian. Your strength, your humor and your kindness, they all make you an incredible person - He can hardly believe his ears, and a radiant smile spreads across his face.

- So, you forgive me for my blunder earlier? - Cassian asked with a funny expression on his face, finally holding you with both hands, securing your body against his. A reminder that, if you fell, he would always be there to catch you.

- I do, but only if you agree to go on a date with me - You chuckle, giving his hand a playful squeeze. Cassian grins, his heart soaring with happiness.

- Anytime you want, sweetheart. It's a deal. I promise to be on my best behavior - As you felt a tingly sensation on your neck you know he really meant it, a promise marking your skin for as long as he decides to stay with you.

You both share a laugh, and as you decide to leave the training area together, Cassian can't help but feel grateful for Nyx's presence in their lives, for it brought him closer to someone he now knew he couldn't bear to lose. And in that moment, both of you realized that even in the darkest of times, love and understanding can find their way to heal the deepest wounds and create something beautiful from the ashes of the past.

As you walk together to your rooms, ready to take a shower and continue the day, you sort of feel a newfound sense of hope. While the memories from your past may not disappear overnight, you knew she could face them with Cassian by your side. Together, you would rewrite your story, creating a future that was stronger and brighter than your painful past.

You realized that you weren't alone anymore, that Cassian genuinely cared for your well-being. He had become more than just a training partner or the cute uncle from the kid you babysit; he was a friend and a support system you didn't know you needed. And maybe, in a closer future, even more than you ever thought you could have.