Feyre

The paint was dripping on the floor like blood.

The strokes were broad and dark, a shadowy form, stars and nightmares and dreams caressing in a midnight dance.

But it was the little hints of red along the edges that made it so alluring.

I withdrew my brush, studying it, watching those galaxies swirl and expand, coming to drown me in their grasp, the citrus and sea scent filling my nostrils, like a calling, a pull towards home—

"Feyre?"

I blinked.

Lucien was staring at me, his scar glimmering in the early dawn light. He looked half asleep.

"Are you okay?" The words were almost barked, but I didn't take offense. He hated mornings even more than I did.

I shifted uncomfortably, and said wearily, "Yes, sorry. It's just…" I shrugged. "Early." I let out a sigh. "Really, really early." I dropped my forehead against the cool glass of the coach, my breath fogging its surface, trying to shake off the remnants of my daydream. The fourth time in two days I'd had it.

I had yet to decide if it was a dream or a nightmare.

Lucien grunted in agreement. "I don't get why Tam can't just winnow us all in later," he muttered, looking similarly irritated.

"The Veda Court has a no-winnowing boundary, Lucien, as you well know," said High Lord answered his Emissary's rhetorical question, his muscled form filling the previously empty open doorway. The look he sent me made my toes curl and my cheeks heat.

Lucien groaned. "Oh for the love of the Mother—it's too early to watch you two make eyes at each other. And I'm not proposing we break a time-honored tradition, Tam, just that maybe you could get us a little closer, so we don't have to get up at three in the fucking morning."

My High Lord swung into the carriage, sitting down next to me. Our quarters were pleasantly cramped, and I could feel his warmth through the green dress I was wearing. Alis had found something more appropriate for the meeting and packed it in my bags. I would change when we got there.

"No sense getting your clothes all wrinkled before you have to present yourself," she'd sniffed.

He merely said to Lucien, "I didn't realize you were such a child." Then he smiled at me. "You look beautiful," he said, tugging gently on one of my curls.

My lips twitched and I flushed. "So…do you," I managed, then wanted to hit myself.

Lucien hid a smirk, but Tamlin just chuckled and pressed a kiss to my hand. He thumped the roof the coach twice, and the doors clicked close by themselves, and we began our bumpy trek down the road.

I pressed my face to the glass, watching the manor disappear into the grey darkness. I wouldn't see it again for another two weeks.

Already it felt too long, to be away from the comforting familiarity of the golden hallways and the rose bedecked gardens. The painting studio I still couldn't touch.

This will be good, I told myself as Lucien and Tam began discussing some trade disagreement with the outlying villages of Spring. A little time away will help. Maybe being stuck inside is what's making my head so loopy.

Even if the alternative to the long afternoons trapped inside sun dusted galleries and long hallways was a meeting with all seven High Lords.

Beron. Kallias. Thesan. Helion Spell-Cleaver. Tarquin. Tamlin.

…Rhysand.

Something twinged at that last name, maybe fear, maybe excitement, maybe something else that I didn't dare name.

I hadn't seen the arrogant High Lord since the end of the war, since I'd struck a killing blow I still wasn't sure how I'd managed to do. He and his Court had been strangely silent for the last few weeks.

I hadn't even known he had a Court, though I suppose I should have expected it.

I'd only gotten a few glimpses of them, mostly of a beautiful blonde woman Lucien told me was his cousin, Morrigan, and the two winged males who served him in some official capacity. And that tiny, deadly looking female who'd come into the Spring camps one night to speak with Tam, and who'd had all the sentries and warriors muttering prayers to the Cauldron.

She'd looked wickedly pleased about that.

Tamlin's hand brushed my own, and I tucked away sigh. I would get through this meeting. Then I'd go back to the manor and live out the rest of my infinitely long existence, and the engagement to Tamlin that we still hadn't formally reinstated since our almost-wedding had been interrupted by an attack by Hybern.

The rest would come to me eventually.

Even this shifting darkness writhing inside of me.

vVv

I had mixed feelings about my dress.

It was gorgeous, I supposed, the perfect fit for a Lady of a Court of Prythian.

It was just so…imposing.

And not exactly fit to the flowers and dusky colors of Spring.

I straightened the neckline, my fingers brushing against the silky fabric.

A lesser faerie whose name I didn't know fixed my train, and the gold glinted in the light.

I looked at myself in the mirror we'd set up in the small wooded clearing we were using as a dressing room before entering the Middle.

The golden dress was long and sweeping, elegant and eye-catching, with a neckline that dipped a little too far to be considered appropriate, sheer sleeves and a sparkling bodice clinging to my chest and waist before pooling around my legs.

My hair was wound up around my head, a flowered crown woven through the golden locks.

I looked…

"Ridiculous."

I half turned, seeing Lucien standing at the edge of the wood. The faerie bowed and backed away. I watched her go slightly wistfully. I missed Alis, but Tam had insisted she stay at home.

Now alone with my friend I turned back to the mirror, studying myself uncomfortably. "Stop it. It's not that bad."

The Emissary snorted, coming up behind me. "I don't know how Alis got Tam to approve this dress." He looked distastefully at the dipping neckline and clinging fabric. "It looks like erotic Night Court fashion mixed with flashy Day color." He fingered the shining embroidery at my shoulder. "She's going to have hell to pay when he sees you in this."

I didn't want to, but I did agree with Lucien. Alis and Tamlin's ideas of 'suitable' were clearly very different.

But…

I examined myself again. If I squinted I could almost imagine someone else in my place, someone strong and confident, someone who could fit this dress without being overpowered by it.

As it was, I just looked skinny and underfed and not powerful in the least, despite it being more than a year since I'd hunted for survival in a frozen, desolate wood.

Nothing like the Savior and Cursebreaker people expected me to be.

I hated that title.

Hated it just like this meeting, and the war, and the endless fear and nightmares that had come with it.

But I needed to do what I could to ensure Tamlin's court—my court, our court—stayed strong.

So I put a smile on my carefully painted face, gestured for Lucien to lead the way, and held my head high, letting no one see even a hint of the heart beneath the visage, the heart that was slowly fracturing into pieces.

vVv

The Middle was utterly silent.

It made the tension all the more inescapable.

We'd switched out of the carriage as soon as we'd passed through one of the 'doors' leading to the rest of Prythian, instead mounting horses, though I was doubtful of my ability to ride very well wearing this dress.

Our route passed around the very edges, but it didn't stop me from gripping my reins tightly as I reminded myself to breathe, not too succumb to a panic attack, to keep my head, even as memories of Under The Mountain, of those two faeries blood on my hands filled my head—

My horse jolted as I narrowly avoided hitting a tree.

I jerked my reins back to avoid collision. Lucien, who'd 'accidentally' rammed into me, rode on without a backwards look, but I got the message.

Tamlin sent a concerned look my way, but I just shook my head silently, clicking my heels and continuing on through the dappled, still wood.

I appreciated his help, even if I'd never say so.

Not when I knew how much it upset Tamlin when we mentioned these things.

We were surrounded by a small army of sentries, but still I could see the tension in Tamlin's shoulders, in his clenched jaw and short sentences.

Lucien was also affected.

It was the shadow. Amarantha's final revenge.

Even in death, we were not free of her.

vVv

Tamlin's appraisal of my attire rated a narrow eyed glare, then a quick shift into his High Lord mask.

Lucien offered me a slight eye roll and I returned the gesture with a scowl, before turning back to the imposing building before us.

I hadn't even known about the Veda Court until this meeting. A structure pre-dating the founding of Prythian. It encroached on no Court territories or power struggles, and we could all make the journey.

The perfect place for a meeting with all seven High Lords to discuss the ending of the war and the steps we would have to take now that it was done.

But it was still so…imposing.

It was built into a sheer cliff face, the white stone fashioned into hewn pillars and a large, gaping gateway. We were among the last to arrive.

Tamlin's hand found my own and gave it a squeeze, even as his gaze remained like granite.

That little touch gave me a grounding point to step forward.

We entered.

vVv

There is a large difference between meeting in a war tent in the middle of a battleground, with the dead and dying all around you as you ponder the fate of the world, and meeting in a civilized hall with official entourages and all manner of political jargon.

I almost preferred the battlefield.

The High Lords and their consorts were gathered in the hall when we entered, and a quick glance confirmed that we were the second to last to arrive.

I saw no sign of Rhysand or the Night Court, and something in me eased a bit at that. I wondered if he would come.

Kallias was the first to notice us, a beautiful silver haired woman standing next to him. His wife, I assumed.

Tamlin had released a bit of his glamour, coating himself in a golden, wild glow, and I could see some of the beast shining through his eyes.

Even though I loved him and knew he would never hurt me, it filled me with trepidation to see so much power.

"High Lord Tamlin," Kallias said, his voice carrying throughout the shining room carved into the top of the mountain. We'd taken an outside staircase to get to the top of the cliff, to this room. None of us were so willing to go underground anytime soon.

Chatter halted, and my skin prickled as Beron's eyes lingered on me, something hungry and tainted sliding through his eyes. None of the High Lord's had been happy to know that my immortality had also taken a portion of their gifts. I almost wanted to tell them they could have them back. This much power wasn't meant for me. I didn't need it. Nor did I want it.

Tamlin nodded back curtly. "Kallias." He inclined his head to the other High Fae gathered.

Lucien and the sentries behind me bowed, and even though etiquette demanded that I do the same…I somehow couldn't bring myself to. I'd bowed and scraped enough before Amarantha.

Tamlin's lips tightened a bit, but no one made any remark on my faux pass.

Lucien's face had gone paler and more severe as he saw his estranged brothers lurking in the corners, but he made no comment.

Chairs were arranged in the center of the room, the dusky sunlight streaming down on them. Beron's Lady and High Lord Thesan were already seated.

Helion Spell-Cleaver came up to us, his dark face wonderfully handsome and beautiful in a way that made even my cheeks heat.

"High Lord Tamlin." He inclined his head to my lover, then straightened, a little smirk on his lips and looked at me. He bowed more deeply this time, though there was still something…mocking about it.

"Cursebreaker," he murmured, eyes dancing.

Now everyone's eyes were on me. The Prince and Princess of Summer watched me like hawks stalking a mouse, and the Lady of Winter didn't remove her gaze from mine, though the look was more curious than hostile.

It still made Tam bristle and clutch my arm tighter.

"Rhysand hasn't arrived yet," Tarquin said, breaking the silence. "I suggest we start without him."

It was an effort to keep my face blank at that, but…we were all still rebuilding our respective Courts. We needed to get this over with.

I sat in a chair on the right of Tamlin, and Lucien held court on my other side. Our entourage stood behind us. I couldn't help but notice that I was surrounded on all sides. No doubt Tamlin's plan, to protect me should the meeting go sour.

Thesan began, "It's been four months since the end of the war." He looked around at all of us. "This meeting is long overdue." He began talking about the trade routes with Dawn, and how to better implement them.

Tamlin didn't concern me with matters of state, so most of the places and terms were unfamiliar.

My High Lord interjected a few times, and the debates continued on about property lines, and rebuilding efforts, and…

I was watching the entourages, seeing how they interacted with one another, so Beron was perfectly within my line of sight, and I saw the meaningful glance he sent to Helion and Tarquin.

Tamlin did too.

His grip on my arm tightened, and Lucien's fingers twitched towards his sword hilt when the High Lord of Autumn said casually, "There is another matter to discuss."

The room went silent, but there was no confusion or curiosity on the others faces. This had been planned, discussed before we'd arrived.

A soft snarl ripped free from Tamlin, and his grip on my arm became bruising.

Helion took over. "Indeed." He glanced at me. "There is the matter of Feyre Cursebreaker."

The light around Tamlin flared and he barked, "There is no matter to discuss. She belongs to the Spring Court—she has nothing to do with any of you."

I could see his hackles raising.

Kallias said coolly, "On the contrary, Tamlin, she does. She has a piece of each of our powers. That makes her ours as well."

I could only shake my head, terror immobilizing me, at that thought. I'd just gotten free of Amarantha, and the war, now these High Lords all sought to claim me—

Tarquin's dark face was a little uncomfortable, but he said apologetically, "This is not meant as an offense, Tamlin—"

A growl.

Lucien unsheathed his sword with a whine, putting his body in front of mine.

Beron cut in with a disgusted snarl, his sons flanking around him. "Call of your dog, Tamlin. This has nothing to do with you."

His pale eyes met mine.

"We're here to decide what to do with Feyre Cursebreaker—and if she should be allowed to live."