The Spring Court was beautiful. Every tree and bush alive with springtime freshness, the colors vivid in the fresh air. It was never hot, only pleasantly warm and light breezes whispered through the treetops. Flowers of every sort grew in bunches along the ground and in bushes, some even winding their way up the tree trunks. An observer would have deemed it perfect and would wish they could stay forever.

Andras saw it differently. Once he had seen the beauty, seen the perfection of it all, but that had all changed when the mask had forged to his skin. Now it seemed as if it had filtered all the beauty out of the world. His Lord's lands had become a prison and its occupants were prisoners who were soon to face the executioner's block. Forty-nine years had gone by and there had been no change, at least, no change for the better. The lands of the Spring Court were succumbing to the diminishing of their Lord's power. Everywhere there were signs of dead things, of poison where there should be nothing but beauty and life.

Angrily, Andras plucked a dead blossom from a rose bush as he rode by, crushing it in his gloved fist to release any lingering fragrance. He dropped the remnants on the ground, his eyes filled with sorrow. Tamlin was losing hope and his lands were suffering because of it. So many friends had perished in this hopeless quest, and Andras was beginning to realize that Amarantha had given them an impossible task. Defiant as they had tried to be, she had known that in the end she would win. Andras shuddered to think of the consequences once she finally brought them all under her mountain.

A noise caught his attention and the look in Andras's eyes turned predatory. His patrol route was close to the mansion which meant there were not often creatures this near, but perhaps something had slipped through. Their defenses were crumbling after all. He silently brought his bow up, an arrow on the string already. Unless it was something too terrible, like the Bogge, he could deal with it, though Tamlin would likely be annoyed that he had not let the High Lord protect his own territory. Andras didn't care. This was his job, his post and he would do whatever was necessary to keep the evil at bay.

He felt a bit sheepish when the origin of the sound turned out to simply be a couple of squirrels fighting over a nut. He supposed that was much better than the alternative. With a sigh, he turned his horse around to head back. He would make his report and then pose his question again. Andras knew what his Lord's answer would be, but it didn't stop him from asking every day. Every day they drew closer to their demise and Tamlin grew a little more desperate.

ACOTAR

"How is he?" Andras asked, taking off his gloves in the front hallway.

"Angry, sullen, snapping at everyone," Lucien replied casually. "I got tired of listening to him sulk so I am going out." Though his voice was light, Andras knew the redhead was just as discouraged as everyone else.

Andras pushed open the doors of the throne room, leaving Lucien behind. Tamlin sat in his throne, tapping his fingers on the arm of the great chair. Andras thought he could see hints of the wicked claws. He wondered if something had happened to anger his Lord or if Lucien had done more than simply listen. Deciding it was more than likely the latter, based on how quickly Lucien had left, Andras shook his head.

"My Lord," Andras said, bowing deeply. Even though there was no one else around to see him, he would always give Tamlin his respect, unlike Lucien.

"Andras," Tamlin greeted his sentry.

"The woods were quiet," Andras said formally. "No sign of any threat beyond the ones you already know of."

Tamlin nodded. "Thank you, Andras," he said quietly.

"My Lord, I would ask again to go-"

Tamlin raised a hand. "No," he cut off the sentinel. "I have lost too many already."

Lowering his head, Andras didn't meet his Lord's eyes as he spoke. "You will lose more if we do not continue to try." His voice was soft, submissive, yet determination was hidden in his tone.

A low growl rumbled from Tamlin's throat. "I will not let her wicked curse take more of my Court from me. She has destroyed enough of it as it is."

Andras bit back a sigh. He always got the same response. "Yes, my Lord," he said, waiting for Tamlin's nod of dismissal before he turned to leave. There were so many things he wished to say that he couldn't. Perhaps Lucien could, but he was just as against Andras's going as Tamlin was. He left the room and headed up the stairs toward his own room, passing several servants along the way, all of them masked as he was, trapped as he was, prisoners with a death sentence on their heads.

ACOTAR

He was nearly back from patrol a week later, when Andras felt a chill rush over him. He froze, even though his horse looked as if it were ready to bolt. Try as he might, Andras could see nothing that would alarm him like this, and he continued down the path, though at a slightly faster pace. Upon reaching the mansion, he realized what had caused the irrational wave of fear. That creature, the Attor, was here. It had not come inside, instead it was speaking to Tamlin on the gravel path that led to the house.

His horse refused to get any nearer to Amarantha's monster, so Andras dismounted and went to his Lord. Lucien was there already, but Andras was glad to see the servants were all hiding somewhere.

"She wants to remind you that your time is running out," the Attor's rough voice grated on Andras's ears. "Have you found your savior yet?" It looked around as if expecting to see the answer to the curse just standing around somewhere.

Andras scowled, reaching Lucien's side and halting. He couldn't do anything but offer his support and that would have to be enough.

"Get back to your mistress," Tamlin spat, his voice nearly a growl.

The Attor released a grinding laugh. "She is looking forward to you belonging to her, along with the last bit of Prythian that has not fallen." Its dark gaze fell on Andras and in a movement too quick to follow, it had lunged, wrapping its talons around the sentry's throat.

Surprised, Andras didn't have any time to react, simply grabbing for the monster's arm instinctively to keep from choking. It lifted him off the ground, squeezing his vulnerable throat. Through wide, panicked eyes, Andras saw Tamlin's claws punch out of his knuckles, his Lord roaring at the monster to release him.

"She told me to give you a reminder," the creature snapped, ignoring the thrashing Faerie it held as it stared down at Tamlin. "In case you have forgotten her plans for you when you fail."

Andras sucked in as deep a breath as he could manage through his constricted airway as the monster shot into the sky, its leathery wings flapping vigorously. Tamlin's furious roar did nothing but make it more amused.

"High Fae are too pompous," it grunted, liking the look of fear in its captive's eyes. "Tell your High Lord that my lady cannot wait to have him at her side Under the Mountain."

He had barely registered the gruff words before the Attor released him. Andras dropped like a stone, a terrified yell ripping out of his strained lungs. They hadn't gotten too high, for he hit the ground after a couple of seconds, his leg snapping upon the impact. Andras groaned, trying to remember to breathe and make the ground stop spinning.

"Andras? Andras?" Lucien shook him gently, making the sentry scowl.

"Don't...do that," he gasped out, opening eyes that he hadn't realized were closed. "I'm alright."

Lucien glanced down at Andras's leg. "I wouldn't be saying that just yet," he admitted. "How's your throat? Can you breathe?"

Andras nodded shakily. "I can breathe." It had taken a moment for the horrible sensation of being suffocated to dissipate, but it was leaving, slowly. "Cauldron, my leg hurts," he muttered at last.

"I think it's broken," Lucien admitted. "Let's get you inside." He grabbed Andras's arm, helping him up.

"Where's Tamlin?" Andras asked, letting Lucien support most of his weight, since he couldn't put any on his broken leg.

"He went to check the cave and make sure no one else came in during that encounter," Lucien replied. "He'll be back soon."

Andras nodded again. "Well, I'll apologize to him then," he decided.

"For what?" Lucien asked, a challenge in his voice as he helped Andras limp up the stairs.

"For letting that thing grab me," Andras replied. "He'll never let me go across now." He halfway bit back a moan when Lucien stopped without telling him.

"Go across?" Lucien asked, his good eye focusing on Andras.

Andras couldn't hold the redhead's gaze. "I want to go to the other side of the wall," he said quietly. "I want to find someone to break this curse."

Lucien shook his head, continuing to help Andras up the stairs. "No, we've already lost too many," he said firmly.

"That's what Tamlin says," Andras pointed out. "But if someone doesn't do this, then Amarantha is going to make us lose even more. You know she will punish him for defying her for so long. How do you think she is going to do that?" He could tell by Lucien's silence that the other Faerie knew what he meant. "We have to try or we will lose everything. At least this way, we could have a chance."

"You know how guilty he feels over the ones we have already lost to the humans," Lucien pointed out quietly, helping him over to a chair in the mansion.

Andras nodded. "I know, and I know he doesn't think he can bear anymore losses, but Amarantha will not care how many he has lost already. She will just make him lose more."

Lucien's golden eye whirred and he sighed. "You may be right, but I don't think there's anything that can change his mind." He knelt to take off Andras's boot.

By the time Tamlin returned to the mansion, Andras was about ready to kill Lucien. His leg hurt fiercely and the redhead was not helping it at all he didn't think. His Lord approached and Andras dipped his head. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"You don't need to apologize," Tamlin said, his voice soft, anger in it that Andras realized wasn't directed at him. Lucien stepped aside to let Tamlin see Andras's leg. He stiffened slightly as he felt his Lord touch the injured limb, but he barely had time to cry out as there was a sharp crack, then the warm glow of magic began seeping through him.

"Thank you," Andras said, the pain leaving his eyes.

Tamlin was very still for a moment as he healed the sentinel's leg, but at last he looked up, meeting Andras's gaze. "Do you still want to go?"

Knowing instinctively what he was talking about, Andras nodded. "Yes my Lord," he said without hesitation.

The words were obviously hard for Tamlin to say, but he managed to get them out. "Then I am sending you over."

Lucien looked shocked, but after today and what Andras had said already, he did not argue. They had no other choice.

ACOTAR

"I will not fail," Andras said, standing in front of Tamlin and Lucien the next day. The word should have been filled with hope and determination, but Andras had a feeling there was too much sorrow in them.

Tamlin nodded. "We will always remember you," he promised. "Should you succeed, I will make sure everyone knows who made it possible."

Andras dipped his head. "It has been an honor to serve you, my Lord. I will be glad to give up my life to save Prythian."

None of them spoke again, knowing it would be too hard. Tamlin waved his hand over Andras, casting the magic that would change his shape. He couldn't go over the wall as a Faerie.

Andras hadn't been sure what it would feel like to change shape like this, but once it was done it felt as natural as anything else. He knew what he looked like, since all of the others had looked roughly the same. He would look like a wolf, albeit a large one. Four legs, silver fur, golden eyes, he doubted it really mattered that much, and Andras had absolute faith in Tamlin's magic. He backed up a step and bent his forelegs in the last bow he would ever perform to his Lord before turning and bounding away with a howl.

ACOTAR

He felt free, more so than he had in forty-nine years. Andras ran through the woods, reveling in his wolf body, his keen senses, the ground rushing by beneath his paws. Even the creeping deadness in the woods didn't bother him as much as usual. He had called himself a prisoner, but now he was being let out. It was odd he supposed. Even though he headed toward his own death, somehow it was a far better death than the one he would find Under the Mountain.

He wished that he could have experienced being a Faerie without the mask one more time. He would have to content himself with the lack of a mask on his wolfish form. The wind rushed through his fur, stinging his eyes and feeling completely wonderful. Andras believed the masks had simply been another way for Amarantha to show that she was more powerful. He shook his head, ruffling the fur at his neck. It didn't really matter now, for he was going to succeed and everyone would be free of the masks.

Andras reached the wall quickly and skidded to a stop on scattered leaves. On the other side it was winter. He hadn't experienced very much of winter, since it was always spring here, in his home. For the first time, Andras felt a bit of regret for leaving. He turned his head to survey the Spring Court for the last time. After this he would either succeed and die, or fail and die. Either way, he was never coming back. Andras threw his head back and let out a mournful howl before diving through the hole in the wall.

ACOTAR

It had been a month. A month of living in the forest, hunting the scarce game, and trying not to succumb to discouragement. Andras didn't know what to do. He appeared at the edges of farms, stealing a chicken here or there, trying to terrorize the people. No one dared hunt him, especially not one that he needed. Huffing a sigh, he laid his head on his paws in the somewhat warmer hole he had dug for himself.

Winter was miserable. That much he had decided. It was cold and wet and windy all of the time. There was never enough food, for himself or for the people that he stalked. He had seen that much. How could mortals live this way? He supposed none of them were really living that comfortably though, certainly not the way the Fae in Prythian did. His nose twitched as he tried not to wonder about it too much. It didn't matter.

A scent came to him on the wind and Andras's ears pricked. A deer. That was rare. He supposed they had all run off when he started stalking the woods, but perhaps this one was braver than the others. He would hunt it anyway. He was hungry and cold, so perhaps this would help. Growling deep in his throat, he got to his paws and shook the snow off of his fur, setting off to find the tempting animal.

The doe was snuffling around the tree trunks, looking for bark perhaps, but Andras forgot the deer when another movement caught his eye. A girl, there was a girl in the bush. She had seen him and Andras felt a moment of shame for not noticing her before. He went very still, staring at her intensely. Was this it? Was he finally going to be able to free his Lord, his Court? He suddenly saw the bow in her hands and realized that she was hunting as well. This deer was probably just as tempting for her as it was for him. Making up his mind, he leaped for the animal, ripping its throat out in a smooth motion that was more Fae-like than wolf-like, but he didn't care.

Burning pain slammed into his side and he whirled around, his hackles raising automatically. Ash. She had an ash arrow. He could feel the cursed wood weakening his immortal body. How had she known who he was, what he was? It didn't matter. She would kill him. She would kill a Faerie and Tamlin could be free. Tamlin and Lucien and the Spring Court. The beauty would be returned to it and the monsters driven from its borders. Creatures like the Attor and Amarantha would regret ever threatening his High Lord. Andras turned his golden eyes on her, watching her stalk closer, another arrow on the string. This one would not miss. It wasn't supposed to. Andras held very still, simply watching her, but seeing someone else. He saw the girl who would save Prythian. The arrow released, slamming into one of his eyes, and Andras collapsed with a yelp. Despite knowing this was how it was supposed to end, he couldn't quite master the pain and he pawed pitifully at the ground, a low whine emitting from his throat. With his remaining good eye, he watched her walk nearer, scrutinizing him as if looking for something. Andras didn't care. This would be it, finally. His panting slowed and his writhing finally ceased as the brave soul of Andras fled his body. The Faerie brave enough to give his life for his Lord and his Court.