Evalin had never really been a fan of court-like events. No, that was more Sam's thing. At the balls and coronations she kind of just hid in the shadows right along with her father, who like her, disliked the royal aspects of their life. It was kind of funny because her mother bathed in it. She often flaunted Sam and accepted all compliments with praise of herself. Evalin often caught her father watching her with a sort of fondness, whilst they hid in the shadows.

Now, she had her hands resting crossed under her head, enjoying the warmth of the Terrasen summer, but also the shade of a weeping willow. Her eyes were closed, and she wasn't trying to fall asleep but it was so comfortable. This was her favorite spot outside the castle walls.

She was lucky to have slipped away from her mother's grasps. She was currently having tea with one of the lord's wives' and though even Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius hates some of the snobs of Terrasen, she always told both Evalin and Sam that it was only polite to indulge them every once and a while. Rowan, Evalin's father snorted every time she said that and muttered some sarcastic comment about how, yes, of course, Aelin was the epitome of politeness. That earned him a glare each time.

Aelin had seemed intent on making Evalin stay for tea, but Evalin was good at making excuses.

Now, she sighed her comfort, enjoying the peace. It was only when a sudden shiver and coldness making her eyes open, that her content look turned into a sour glare.

"I thought you were drinking tea and eating cake," Sam said, a small smirk forming with his hands folded across his back.

Evalin sat up with a groan. "Shut up, Sam," she muttered. He laughed heartily, a trait he inherited from their father. Though, Rowan Whitethorn didn't laugh often.

Sam was wearing what he usually wore when he trained; knee-high boots, a tunic with the sleeves cut off, and two swords strapped to his trousers on either side. Evalin looked him over warily.

"I just got done training with Vaughn," Sam said, noticing her look. "Anyway, did you hear the news?" Her brother was looking at the calluses on his hand as if he didn't have a care in the world. Evalin rolled her eyes.

"What news?"

"I will be going to Adarlan with Uncle Aedion and Rhoe," Sam said simply, before pausing. "In two days' time."

Evalin jumped to her feet with a jolt. "What? I must go with you!"

"Please, Evalin, it is a journey for us men."

"That is shit and if mother heard you say something like that albeit she would castrate you!" Evalin growled.

Sam winced slightly, more in disgust than anything. "You do have the mouth of a sailor, Lin."

"I'm going with you to Adarlan whether you like it or not," Evalin said, her teeth sharpening as she snapped at him. He only rolled his eyes in annoyance as she stalked away from him.

Evalin shoved the doors open as she walked into the conference room, ignoring the slam of the large wooden doors hitting the walls. All the heads shot up to her as she walked across the floor, a scowl on her face. Most of their faces paled. All except Aedion Ashryver's.

"You're going to Adarlan without me?" she demanded.

Aedion sighed and nodded to all the other men, who had previously been in a semicircle around the table in the center of the room. They all cleared the area swiftly. Aedion was wearing what he always wore when on castle grounds. A pine green tunic with the Terrasen insignia across the chest, the Sword of Orynth strung by his waist.

"Evalin, it's nice to see you too," Aedion said absentmindedly. "I see Sam told you-"

"Why?" she asked, cutting him off. "Why are you going on such short notice?"

"I have been planning this entourage for a while. I only recently decided to bring Sam with me," Aedion said calmly, keeping his eyes on the spread of papers before him. "Along with Rhoe-"

"Why?" Evalin asked again.

Her uncle lifted his head, finally looking at her. Her anger almost left her with the cold, commanding stare he gave her. Almost. But she stood her ground. Aedion sighed as if he expected this from her.

"I cannot tell who you are more like," he said slowly. "Your mother, or your father."

Of course, she was more like her father. Everyone knew that. She ignored this comment, putting her hands on her hips. He shook his head.

"It is nothing to get yourself worked up about, Lin. We are just going to discuss funds, trading routes-you would not-"

"I want to come," she said calmly.

"Did you ask your mother?" Aedion asked, gathering the papers into a stack.

"No but-"

"Did you ask your father?"

"Uncle-"

"Until then, I suggest you don't make any requests like that again," Aedion said, his voice calm and yet laced with cold command.

"I do not need their permission," Evalin said. "I am no child."

Aedion gave her a look before placing both his hands on the table. "I know you aren't," he finally said, his face softening. "You can come. But at least tell one of them if you will not ask. I'm serious, Evalin."

Evalin couldn't help the smirk that slowly crawled its way across her lips. Her uncle shook his head before picking up the papers and nodding to her, brushing past her and through the grand wooden doors.

A strand of silver hair fell in front of her face, and she looked at it. In the sunlight streaming through one of the windows, the strand of hair almost seemed to sparkle. Her father's hair. She twisted the strand up in her fingers, before tucking it behind her ear, and turning on her heel.

"Orion," a saccharine voice whispered in his ear. He stirred but remained mostly asleep. "Orion," sung that voice even louder.

"Go away," he groaned, turning away and burying his face in his pillow.

"Orion!" she suddenly yelled.

Orion jolted awake, lifting his head to see her lying in his bed, wearing Illyrian leathers, and watching him with one elbow propped on the cushioning and her hand supporting her head.

"Time to train!" she said excitedly.

"Ailith, go away!" he groaned, turning away from her.

"Did you forget what day it is? Get up or I will make you," she commanded, her voice getting less soft. He felt the mattress shift and her footsteps against the wooden floorboards. "Don't make me get my father."

"Fine!" Orion said, immediately getting up.

Ailith chuckled, leaning against the window sill in the far corner. Orion only glared at her, his eyes pausing on the necklace she wore. A glowing crystal hung by her chest, emanating a faint yellow-orange glow. She caught his stare and by instinct, wrapped her hand around the crystal.

"Where did you get that?" Orion asked.

"It was a gift," Ailith said coldly, looking away from him. He knew he wasn't going to get any more information than that. "Hurry up and get dressed. I am taking my own time to wake your ass up and I have to get back to the camps soon." She brushed her black shoulder-length hair from her shoulder and headed towards the door. She paused when she reached the threshold. "And Rion?" she asked. He looked up at her. The intensity of her overly bright blue eyes bore into his violet-blue ones. Her eyes she inherited from her mother. "Don't be late for dinner tonight. I'm not taking the blame for you again." With that, she left, slamming the door shut behind her.

Orion let out a sigh and ran his hands through his overgrown hair, closing his eyes.

"He's alive!" Cassian boomed, spreading his arms wide when Orion dropped down onto the roof of the House of Wind.

Orion flared his wings before folding them tightly and feeling the weight on his back disappear along with his wings. Ailith groaned, her own folded wings twitching on her back. She often snapped at him when he did that, saying not everyone can do the same thing. Orion smiled in her direction, earning a cold look.

"The next time you are late, I will throw you off this roof myself. Got it?" Cassian said, pulling his attention away. All the softness was gone. It was probably because this wasn't the first time Orion was late for training, and Cassian was getting over it.

"Where were you?" a deeper, colder voice asked from behind him.

Orion turned to see his father, leaning against the doorframe that leads to the inside of the house. He fixed Orion with a cold stare, waiting for one of his excuses. He didn't have to make one.

"Why, my dearest cousin was sleeping, of course," Ailith answered for him, lifting her blade and inspecting it, her hair shifting against the top of her shoulders as she moved her head.

Orion would have glared at her if it weren't for his father watching him. He looked back to where he stood, a perfect amount of nonchalance and coldness. He wasn't wearing Illyrian leathers, so he wouldn't be training with them. He was wearing his usual attire, a black tunic lined with silver, and trousers made to fit him. Rhysand slowly slid his hands into his pockets and stood up straight.

"I will see you tonight," he said slowly, walking over and resting a hand on Orion's shoulder before he simply walked off the roof. Somehow, that hurt even more than his usual lecturing.

He looked to Cassian, who looked like he was trying too hard to busy himself. He caught Orion looking, and shrugged.

"He was in a hurry," he said simply.

"Let's just get this over with," Rion said, picking up his sword and not hesitating before he winnowed in front of Cassian.

Cassian immediately blocked his blade with his own, twisting and jabbing with the sword in his other hand. Orion winnowed again and once behind Cassian he made a move with his sword. In turn, Cassian flared his wings, throwing Orion off-balance and turning, kicking him square in the chest.

Orion fell back, landing on his bottom and sending gravel flying everywhere. He was vaguely aware of Ailith laughing in the background. Orion groaned and looked to see she had dropped her sword and was holding her stomach, her tan face a bright red. Cassian was grinning down at him, triumphant.

"Well," he said slowly. "That was something."

Orion glared at him beneath lowered brows, strands of his black hair having fallen in front of his face. When Cassian held out his hand, he took it and let him haul him to his feet.

"By the way," Cassian started. "Your mother wants to see you in the studio. When we're done here. Got it?" Orion nodded. "Good. Now I want to see both your forms."

Orion opened the door, moving to the side when two young children rushed past him, out into the street. He let the door shut behind him and walked over to where he knew his mother would be. She had her hair braided, lying on one shoulder, and wore an apron that had splotches of paint in various colors all over. She was smiling, helping an old woman sitting in front of a canvas. Orion leaned against the wall, watching with his arms crossed over his chest.

Eventually she noticed him, standing up straight and tucking a strand of hair behind her delicately pointed ear as she walked over to him. He had long since changed out of his Illyrian leathers. Instead, he wore a carefully fitted tunic lined in midnight blue colors, the collar stopping halfway up his neck. It was similar attire to his father's.

Feyre Archeron smiled up at his son, folding her hands together in front of her. He was taller than her now, and though she was now forty-five, she didn't look a day over twenty-four. A year older than he was.

"Are you going to lecture me?" he asked, skeptical.

"Oh, Rion, please. You are not a boy any longer. But that does not mean you get to start slacking. You have your duties as a prince. And lately, you have not been trying your best," Feyre said softly. "And no. I will not lecture you. Neither will your father, and you know that."

"I missed one-"

"More than one. Many. You've been distant, and..." Feyre bit her lip, pausing for a second. "Your activities are growing to be-"

"My activities?" Orion asked incredulously, though he knew exactly what she was talking about.

He lived in the same estate as his parents. It was just the three of them now. Azriel had lived with them, but the older Orion got, the more he thought it best to move out. He had planned to live there along with Amren, Elain, and Cassian. But Cassian got married. Orion was born. And Amren moved away to the Summer Court. Elain... well Elain got better. She got her apartment, away from Azriel. Eventually, Azriel moved out too. Not too long after Orion was born, did Nesta Archeron become with child. With Ailith.

Feyre pursed her lips as if realizing she was going about it all wrong. "Are you troubled because of... Seph?" she asked.

Orion's features darkened. "No." One word. It was tart and snipped.

Seph, the princess of the Spring Court, and Tamlin's daughter. High Lord of the Spring Court. He had courted her for seven months. And fallen in love with her. But then she realized they weren't mates. And she cared a whole lot more than he did. But it was fine. Because he promised her they could still be friends. That was three months ago, and they have barely spoken a word to each other.

He knew Seph had a weird thing about finding her mate, something about never knowing her mom. Nobody knew who the high lord had courted, resulting in Seph. Not even Feyre. What made everything all the more bizarre, was that his mother had somewhat of a relationship with Seph. He was aware of the rift she had with Tamlin before he was born, and before the war. Cassian told him most of it. But now things were fine, and Feyre saw Seph a lot.

"Are you sure? Because I-"

"I don't want to talk about Seph. Did you need something?" he asked.

Feyre recoiled slightly, obviously hurt by his closed-off attitude. He softened the slightest bit. "Rion... you know I just want what's best for you," she said softly.

He smiled at her, feeling a slight shift. "I know. I'm fine, I promise. I will do better."

"That's all I want to hear. Will you at least help me clean up? There is some clay in the back. Or..." She turned from him, and he followed her across the room with his hands in his pockets. His eyes brightened when he saw her pick up a chisel. "We just got a new order of some marble."

Orion already felt better than he had in a few weeks. She could see it on his face because she pressed the chisel into his callused palm and jerked her head to the back door, turning away from him without another word.

Rion wasn't the best painter. But he did inherit some of his mother's artistic abilities. He was a sculptor. He worked best with his hands.

Evalin loved both her parents. She did. But something she would never admit out loud was that her father understood her better. It wasn't a bad thing. She imagined her mother could understand Sam a bit better because, well, they were scarily similar in a lot of ways, and she wasn't talking about their golden blonde hair.

The sun was getting ready to go down the hills when she stepped into the royal stables. Evalin froze when she heard the deep hum of her father's voice.

"He's a fine fighter. But he has trouble focusing. He knows it, I've made sure of that." He paused for a moment and Evalin thought he wouldn't continue when. "What have I told you about eavesdropping?"

Evalin rolled her eyes and stepped out from behind the beam she was hiding behind, only to see Vaughn smirking, leaning against another beam, and then Rowan Whitethorn, a knife and flint in his hands.

"Sorry," she said, though her tone made it obvious she wasn't being genuine. Rowan seemed to be fighting a smile now. "You knew I was here the second I got here."

"I heard you coming," he corrected. Irritation grew in her.

"Were you trying to flatter me by insulting Sam's skills, then?"

"I was doing no such thing, and perhaps you would not have to eavesdrop if you bothered to show up to training."

"As if I need it, and even if I did... I had-tea," she spat out the last word.

Her father did not bother to hide his smile now. "Hm, tea. If my sources are correct you did not show up to that either." She ignored him. "Evalin, even the finest warriors must show up to their training."

Evalin crossed her arms over her chest. Vaughn shook his head and looked away. She gingerly folded her hands behind her tailbone and walked between them, casually stopping by her personal horse's stable. She ran a hand through Constance's mane. "So... Sam's going to Adarlan."

She could practically see her father shoot Vaughn an irritated, knowing look, although she was not looking at them.

"Evalin-"

"I'm going too. My decision has already been made up," she said before he could lecture her. Then she turned around.

"Did you ask your mother?"

"Uncle Aedion has made it abundantly clear I do not need permission."

"Did he make that clear, or did you?" Rowan asked, slight amusement laced within his words.

Evalin felt her temper rising. "Both of us!"

"May I ask what is waiting for you in Adarlan?"

"Let's see... my best friend, my uncles, the expectations of me wearing dresses and drinking tea gone," Evalin said, counting off her fingers.

"Nobody expects you-"

"Society expects me," Evalin argued. "You know what- you're right. It's not that. I can't stay in one place for too long and you and her highness made it abundantly clear I cannot travel to Wendlyn-"

"We have far too many enemies in Wendlyn. Even after all these years," Rowan said curtly. "Some that even the Ashryver's may not be able to protect you from."

"I can take care of myself," Evalin snapped, before realizing it was her father she was talking to and checking her tone. "This whole overprotective act got old the moment I came of age."

"you were not alive to see the horrors we did," Vaughn spat from behind her. She almost forgot he was there. Vaughn had a thick accent that he never told her where he got from. Sometimes it took her a moment to register his words.

Rowan sighed. "You are free to do as you wish. I am simply suggesting you listen to your only father. And since it has been well over a year since you have been to Adarlan... you can go. And no, you don't need permission but I appreciate you telling me," he said simply.

Evalin blinked. She expected more of a fight than that. But she was twenty-three. Not a teenager. It was true she hadn't been in over a year. King Dorian, someone she preferred to call Uncle Dorian, always came to Terrasen when they saw each other. Her parents had gone to Adarlan twice over the year but didn't take her or Sam. In all honesty, Sam seemed to be more upset each time. Mostly because... well, because of Chaol Westfall's daughter, Celaena. Evalin would bet everything that Sam couldn't wait to get to Adarlan fast enough solely because of Celaena Westfall, the healer's daughter.

"But do not forget your duties as Princess of Terrasen," he added quickly. There it was.

That was her leash, keeping her from exploring the world. Princess of Terrasen. Her title. Her duties. All her parents ever told her was that she was free to do as she wishes. But then there was her title. So she wasn't free. She couldn't say she loathed being royalty, though. There were times she dreamed of being queen. Ruling all of Terrasen for herself. Being in control. There was a slight flaw to that future. Sam was her twin brother. There wasn't an heir to the throne. Not yet. Her parents were rather hesitant about that.

The last thing they wanted was for their children to tear each other apart over the crown. Not that Evalin thought they would. She and Sam were different in every single way, but he was her best friend and she loved him. But... she did want the crown. Badly.

That was a dilemma from a long time from the present, though.

"I won't," Evalin said hastily. When he looked over his shoulder at her and raised an eyebrow, she had to fight the irritant feeling that came. "I won't," she repeated. He only nodded.

"I will talk to your mother, then. But Evalin?"

"Yes?" she asked swiftly.

"Try not to get into any trouble," he said, without looking at her.

She stuck her tongue out at his back.

"I saw that," he muttered.

She couldn't help the smile that spread over her face. Both from the banter and the fact that she was leaving.

She was going to Adarlan, finally, after asking for the past year. So, she set off in a rather preppy step to go see her cousin, Rhoe Ashryver.

And yet, she was so, so very, oblivious to the prince in another world she would soon come in contact with. A dark, very powerful, future high lord.