Chapter 1:

We crashed into the dirt. Elain in my arms. Beautiful, sweet, tender Elain, who worked her garden every day on her own, never letting the servants do more than carry the buckets of water, whose quiet charm had won over the son of a lord-a lord. A fae hating lord.

She was now Fae.

We were now Fae.

And sweet, loyal Elain would never be able to honor her word to that lord. That was enough to make my blood catch fire.

Elain reached up and brushed her finger lightly along my now pointed ear- when her skin met mine her eyes widened. Fear flickered in those honey eyes-fear at what had happened, fear at what we now were-and she fainted.

The blonde one, Mor, was striding purposefully away from us, toward a small cabin. Elain hung limp in my arms. There were half frozen peaks all around us; towering over the vast and barren valleys-these were the immortal lands of Prythian. I clutched Elain's prone body to mine, her beauty ethereal even in unconsciousness, and did the only thing I could think of. I threw my head back and roared to our forgotten gods.

Mor turned around as I yelled; jogging towards us now, arms ready to scoop up Elain.

I bared my teeth at her, and just as quickly recoiled in horror at the instinct, this new instinct. She looked at me and nodded; allowing me to scoop Elain into my own arms and head towards the cabin.

"This cabin is warded to prevent any from outside our family in," Mor said. "You and Elain have been allowed here since the day Feyre and Rhys acknowledged their Mating bond."

Feyre. She'd brought this all down upon us with that damned ash arrow and her lord of spring. All she ever wanted to do was protect us, but she brought us nothing but despair. Her love for the high lord of night-her mate-wasn't enough to save us.

Mate. The word rang inside my head. I saw that russet haired high fae looking at Elain like she was his, his and his alone. You're my mate. Elain was no such thing.

"I'm not your family," I spat, crossing the threshold into the squat cabin.

I took in the layout, assessing the weapons on display, the exits, not taking in the lavish decor until my eyes rested on the table; the top smeared with paint of all colors. That's when I noticed the color throughout the room: four sets of eyes atop the mantle; the pattern of membranous red and gold flecked wings, just like his wings. Those wings, which had been shredded as easily as those beasts had shredded our curtains when they'd taken us.

Feyre had been here, painted here, she had been happy here.

"You'll be safe here," Mor said. "I-I have to go." I had met very few high fae, but I had

never heard one stumble over their words before. Mor released a breath I'm not sure she even knew she was holding, "I'll be back."

And then she was gone.

I lowered Elain into the nearest chair, but I was restless, and for a moment was

envious of Elain's oblivion. I wanted someone to fight, someone to punish for what had been done to us; but no one came. And we were alone.

We were starving. I had never known such hunger. The food we had been able to buy with the money we had squirreled away had run out days ago, and that was before the creditors had come. Father's leg was a mangled mess. It reminded me of meat I had seen stripped bare and sold at the butcher's, not that we could afford meat anymore. Bread and water, that had been our diet for a week. I was the oldest, I knew I should figure something out; but I couldn't- wouldn't- leave Elain.

This wasn't the life I had been groomed for. I didn't know how to hunt or trap. The only thing I'd ever held in my manicured hands that had ever come close to a weapon was a sewing needle. I could match a pitch and recite poetry, but I couldn't help my family survive.

Even Elain had started to think of ways she could help to get us food- but I couldn't even entertain the thought that this was our life now. That this was anything more than temporary. Father's leg would heal, his ships would be found, we'd be saved.

But it was Feyre who had saved us. I hadn't even noticed when she'd slipped off, a scrap of a thing at fourteen, I pretended I hadn't hoped she would go- find us something to eat. And if she got eaten herself, well that was one less mouth to feed, and Feyre was half a wild beast herself. When she had entered the cabin after nightfall with three rabbits strapped to her sidebag, I hadn't even said thank you- I'd just asked her if she could get more.

"Nesta?" Elain whispered feebly from behind me. I rushed to her side, even as a jolt of pain pulsed through my body-my new immortal body. I pulled her onto my lap, brushing the hair from her face.

"Elain," I sighed, "Are you hurt?" She shifted in my arms, assessing her new body with a sweep of her eyes. Her limbs were longer, her body lithe with power; her beauty was sharper than before-before, I was loath to use the word- as if the Cauldron had brought every piece of her into brilliant focus.

"I'm-" she hesitated, as she lifted herself from my arms. "I'm quite sore, actually."

I huffed a laugh. "As am I." And as I said it I knew it to be true. My muscles ached, as if they had been stretched by four horses going in opposite directions. My vision widened and narrowed, in constant flux as my fae eyes adjusted to seeing every detail of the room.

"It's strange," Elain said softly, "I want to take in the whole room- but my eyes just keep focusing on bits of dust."

I laughed despite myself, I too was struggling with seeing anything beyond how filthy this place was. "You'd think they'd be able to keep it a bit tidier with their magic and all," I said.

"Oh I don't know," Elain sighed, "It feels well loved, well worn, but where are we-" she swallowed her next words as her pupils narrowed; she remembered where we were- what had happened.

"Where is Feyre?" Elain asked with a high pitched voice. I held her back as she tried to push herself off the couch.

"She's gone Elain- with that high lord of spring. He took her back- and now we're stuck here." I gestured with a sweep of my slender arm to the small cabin and the desolate black night outside.

"I don't think she wanted to go with him," Elain said, "I think she went with him to protect them-protect us."

I pressed my lips together; I didn't want Elain to realize exactly how much I didn't care why Feyre did it, or where she was now, or to know how much I blamed her for everything that had happened to us.

"No," I said curtly, "I don't think she did."

There was a knock on the door. I whirled, shifting in my seat, putting myself between Elain and the door, to whatever loomed beyond.

I hesitated long enough for the knock to sound again.

"Who is it," Elain called, ever the hostess. I hissed at her to be quiet.

"Rhysand," a male voice called, heavy with concern. His voice was devastating, filled with power and darkness, even as it broke, "Your sister's mate."

"Come in," Elain chimed, as if clinging onto those old niceties were the only thing keeping her sane. The door opened, bringing with is a gust of warm spring air and a high lord.

"This belongs to you," I gestured to the open room. The high lord nodded, his beautiful face grave and assessing. "Then why bother knocking?"

"Next time I'll be sure to let myself in."

"There won't be a next time. We're not staying here."

"No?" He cocked his head to the side. His violet eyes simmered in the gloom. "Where do you intend to go? Prithian is a vast land. Or perhaps you mean to go beyond the wall, back to the mortal lands."

"Our plans are our business," I spat, even as his words sunk in.

"Feyre sacrificed herself to get you out."

"And?"

"And-" he seethed, nostrils flaring, "Feyre trusted me to keep you safe. And Cauldron boil me, I will do so."

"Cauldron," I barked a bitter laugh, "Damn your Cauldron."

"You owe her this," he breathed, almost imperceptibly, "If you give her nothing else, give her this."

And I saw myself how he saw me: the selfish, cruel older sister who'd done nothing to take care of her family through those long, cold years. He knew nothing of what we had been through; how hungry we had been. He hadn't suffered as we had- had sacrificed nothing.

"What do you know about it?" I sneered, looking him up and down, "It doesn't look like you've sacrificed much."

The room went deadly calm; shadows began to leak from him. Elain whimpered behind me; my blood was like ice.

"Do not pretend, Nesta Archeron, to know what I have been through." His body loosened as he looked at me intensely. "You have two choices: you stay here in these lonely mountains and I come to stay here with you, or you come back with me to the city Velaris where you can avoid me all you want. But either way, you're stuck with me." He flecked an invisible speck off his lapel, "It could be worse, though, I am the most attractive high lord in Prythian's history after all."

The shadows receded into him, like dogs being called back to their master. He straightened as he looked at me, "So, what is your choice?"

And it was Elain who answered. "Velaris sounds nice."

And that was that.