Chapter Three: The Night Court

Mor led Dorian silently through the halls. She was unusually quiet, and it bothered Dorian. The Night Court was different then he expected. More... empty. He studied the strange castle; the open air hallways were lined by sheer drops, the only thing protecting from certain death being loose, billowy curtains; the strangely warm temperature despite the snow capped mountains outside; and the immense amount of magic lingering in the air. He shuddered.

"So, who is this man we're meeting?" He asked casually.

"Rhys," She said in a low voice, "Is no man. He's my cousin. He's been through a lot, and he has not been in the best of moods lately. It's in your best interest to go along with whatever I say, speak only when spoken to, and and try to be as inconspicuous as possible. Treat him with the utmost respect, because he will not hesitate to kill you."

"Do you think he'll hear me out?" Dorian thought he heard flapping wings in the distance, but looked to see nothing. Mor didn't seem to notice.

"I'm thinking that he hasn't killed you yet, meaning either he wants to play with his food, or that he needs you alive for some reason." Dorian cracked a smile, but Mor remained serious. "Anyway, whatever you do don't-"

The door at the end of the hall swung open violently. Dorian froze and watched the most incredible fae strut out of the room beyond. His hair was black, his face tan. He looked tired, and his clothes hung loosely off his skinny frame. Darkness seemed to spill out of him. Every instinct told Dorian to run, but Mor seemed unaffected.

"Just the person I was looking for!" Mor chirped. The fae grunted. "Aren't you chipper today, Rhys?"

"What is you want?" Rhys growled, crossing his arms. "And who is this human?"

"This is Dorian," Mor said lightly. "I met him in the forest just South of here. He needed help."

"So you brought him here for refuge?" Rhys spat.

"Maybe. But I figured he could help us a little, too." Mor mused slowly. A look of understanding and amusement crossed Rhys' face for a split second.

"Sure," Rhys approached Dorian, suddenly seeming kinder. Dorian was now visibly shaking, and the fae said, "I'm Rhys, High Lord of the Night Court. And you, Dorian, are now my guest. What's mine is yours."

Dorian couldn't believe what he was hearing. He almost laughed with relief. "Thank you." He breathed. Rhys smiled, but there was something off about it.

"Anyway, I hope you find yourself comfortable here. I have business I need to attend to right now, but I'll gladly join you for supper." Rhys brushed past Dorian, and Dorian pretended not to notice Rhys' violet eyes examining every inch of him. As he stalked off, Rhys turned to make one last remark, "Welcome to the Night Court, Dorian Havilliard. I pray you'll keep out of trouble."

Dorian nodded, and Rhys left. There was something about Rhys that made Dorian shiver. Something was off about him. He seemed kind, but felt cruel. He looked handsome, but physically and mentally drained. He was an enigma, and Dorian was equally enthralled and terrified by him.

Mor nudged Dorian's arm and motioned towards the door. "Let's get you cleaned up," She said, "You'll upset the servants if you continue to drag dirt through the halls."

Dorian scoffed, "Servants? This place is practically abandoned."

"That's the glamour that is put on all guests who stay here. I can lift it if you want." Mor offered politely. Dorian shook his head.

"That's alright." He said. Mor led him through the grand halls and back corridors until they reached a small stairwell- the bottom of which held a door. Mor showed him into the room.

Dorian grinned. A large, soft bed lay in the one corner, while a walled off section proved to be a bathing room, and a wardrobe full of clothes awaited him. He was grateful to find such sanctuary, and he expressed it to Mor. "Thank you so much," He said, "I don't know how I could ever repay you."

"There's no need, I'm sure Rhys will put you to work soon enough." She said casually.

"Put to work?" Dorian asked, "What exactly will I be doing?"

"Why, you'll be our ambassador to the human realm!" Mor said vibrantly. "We've been needing a new one since-"

Mor caught herself. A somber look overtook her features. "I'm sorry," She continued. "It's best if you don't get involved with that."

Dorian nodded with understanding. He learned a long time ago that there were some things he did not want to know.

"Until we can figure out a way to get you home, it's best that you stay on Rhys' good side. He's been so inconsistent lately. I think his patience has finally run out. I hope that you don't see me as manipulative for suggesting it, but I just think we need your help as much as you need ours."

"It's only fair," Dorian mused, "Besides, the Night Court doesn't seem like such a bad place. I wouldn't mind a change in scenery."

Mor grinned, "I'm glad! If you need anything, just call. Supper is in an hour. I'll get you then, and show you around later."

Mor left Dorian alone, and he sighed. He ran a short bath, to wash off the layer of dirt and grime that had formed on his body. He washed his hair and face before stepping out. Dorian was not sure if it was the towels, or the magic in the air, but his hair was instantly dried after only one encounter with the towel. The same went for his body. He was grateful that he did not have to attend supper soaking wet.

Dorian dressed in the clothes in the wardrobe. Surprisingly, they fit him perfectly, and were quite comfortable. He wanted to discover more about the Night Court- about the fashion, the food, the music, the art, the people, the food, the politics, the literature, the food-

His stomach growled. Dorian was hungry after such an intense day. As if on cue, Mor knocked lightly on his door.

"It's me," She chirped. Dorian opened the door. Mor was dressed in a beautiful chiffon gown. Her hair was partially held back by a comb, and the rest of it was curled. He make-up was light and natural looking. She looked beautiful. But with that beauty was great strength. Mor was powerful, and magic seemed to radiate off her. Dorian had to stop himself from gaping too long at her. "Ready to go?"

"Y-yes," Dorian spat out. He wondered what conversation would emerge this evening. He wondered what Rhys thought of him, and what Rhys thought he was going to do with him. Suddenly, Dorian realized what he was: a sheep among wolves.

And he was walking straight into the pack.

Thank you guys so much for your support! I love reading your encouraging comments. The next chapter is coming soon! ^^