The air grew colder and the distinct scent of pine was all she could distinguish as they finally began to pass over the ever-lengthening mountain range. For nearly an hour, Nesta waited for touchdown as they continued to soar above. It appeared their destination was a notably sized village halfway up a particularly massive rockface; the ground seemed an even enough plateau that stretched for miles as it overlooked a daunting drop and a seemingly unnavigable incline that led to a porcelain peak.

Something about standing on her own two feet after the long flight as her limbs had become increasingly sensitive to the frigid temperature left her feeling entirely discombobulated, though she doubted she could ever feel normal under the current circumstances.

"Your new home," Cassian proclaimed without the slightest bit of warmth.

She openly analyzed the cold and bleak village stretching before them. It was manageable, just barely grimier than the old village by the wall, due to lack of readily available resources, she quickly gathered. "Adequate." She surmised with an abrupt nod.

Her lack of negative reaction seemed to irk him. "How fortunate that it's received your approval."

Nesta refused to stifle her irritation this time as she pointedly looked him over. "Adequacy is not enough to secure my approval. As you well know, Cassian." She strutted passed him without glancing his way. "So, where am I meant to stay?"

Cassian cleared his throat, bitterly deciding not to address her comment, more determined to put focus to the task at hand. "Temporary lodgings will be at the Inn." She noticed the two-story building they stood before. "Permanent lodgings will be acquired later in the evening, perhaps tomorrow."

"Why the delay? If we begin looking immediately, I could possibly acquire a current vacancy and entirely forego staying at the Inn."

"I have military business to attend to at our Windhaven war camp not too far from here."

"Fortunate you were in the neighborhood," she remarked blandly. "So, I'm meant to sit and wait for you to return before conducting business regarding my future residence?" Her incredulous inflection wasn't lost on either Illyrian. "I hate the idea of wasting time and money at an Inn when this could be settled now."

"Suddenly you're concerned about finances." He scoffed.

"It has been made blatantly obvious that I've been placed on a rigid budget and it's not as though my human wealth has followed my path. Is your presence truly necessary to acquire my residence?"

"You are my responsibility," he began in a sourly strained voice. "So yes, it is."

Nesta scoffed and narrowed her eyes. "I'm an adult; I have no need of a guardian."

"These past few months would suggest otherwise." He sneered back at her.

"You mistake your place if you think I would validate any judgment you have of my life by considering it at all. My existence does not require your approval, General. Perhaps you should focus on your actual profession and hurry off to your war camp while my budget is squandered on a day of unproductivity, lounging at the Inn, awaiting your return."

He began to open his mouth in retort as he glared at her but seemed to reconsider as he turned his attention to Azriel behind her. "Keep an eye on her. I should be back in a few hours as long as Devlon is in a compromising mood."

Azriel nodded and Nesta practically spun on him as Cassian set down her luggage and quickly flew off. "I don't appreciate being babysat."

"And I don't appreciate being a sitter, so if you don't behave like a baby, neither one of us will be inconvenienced."

Nesta watched him for a moment, surprised by his bluntness. She nodded. "Fair enough. Then I shall behave like an adult." She lifted her two bags as she strutted away.

"The Inn is this way."

"I know." She called back.

"Then where are you going?"

"In search of a residence."

"Did you listen to Cassian at all?"

She looked back at Azriel, somehow still able to exude confidence and sophistication though she was hunched over from the sheer size of the two bags. "I said I would behave as an adult and so I shall. Would you wait for your chaperone to return if you were in my place?"

He seemed to take a moment to consider. "Cassian asked me to secure lodgings at the Inn."

"How is he to know at what time those lodgings were secured?" He watched her for a moment. "If we don't find anything, Cassian will be none the wiser, but at least I will have tried my hand at retrieving some control of my life." She could see her words swaying him. "I will do this either way, Shadowsinger. You can either join me or babysit me. The choice is yours."

He approached her, quickly grabbing a bag out of her hand. Immediately her gaze challenged, but he loudly exhaled through his nostrils. "Fine, just don't make me watch you hobble trying to carry twice your weight."

In one quick movement, he unclipped the tethered strap and secured the bag across his back. He buckled it and speedily repeated the motion with her other bag. She made a move for the trunk, but he beat her to it. "This is nothing." He nudged his head in the direction she'd been going.

Azriel took the lead and steered them both into a small building that looked littered in beige dust. Once inside, he set down the trunk after approaching a counter manned by an Illyrian female with tired charcoal eyes and a kind smile. "But first," Azriel began as Nesta came up beside him. "Pick something."

Her perplexed brow turned its attention to the glass case of rolls, buns and loaves. "I beg your pardon?" She asked in genuine confusion.

His expression was certain and immovable. "You're done flying for the day. Time to eat."

Nesta tried to summon an argument but could see the transparent unwillingness to compromise in his eyes. She glared at him. "No talk of finances or budgets." He shook his head. "Just pick something and eat it. You'll need the energy if we're going house hunting."

The Illyrian female smirked. "Newlyweds?"

Azriel looked at the baker, almost stunned by her congenial tone with such a question.

The distinction was lost on Nesta as she attempted and failed to stifle her scoff. "Hardly, I'm merely a thorn in his Lord's side, ripe for removal." The baker's expression tightened.

Azriel turned his gaze firmly on Nesta. She looked back to the glass, reminded of his condition in assisting her. He turned his attention to the Illyrian patron. "Not removed, so much as relocated." Nesta mutely pointed to the smallest roll she could see. It looked soft, speckled with a small red berry.

"Bright call to make Miss. Those infamous Hardy Rolls were made not an hour ago by my skilled young, Velara."

Nesta's annoyance softened under the female's beaming maternal pride. "They look delicious." She offered gently.

Azriel glanced back at Nesta. "Indeed, they do. We'll take half a dozen."

Nesta's eyes threatened to bulge, but she fought off the urge. He paid and retrieved the trunk as Nesta graciously took the bag from the polite shopkeeper. She pushed the door open for Azriel but crashed against a steady resistance. A young Illyrian female with chocolate hair in long braids and olive skin stood outside with the door pressed against her. Nesta stilled as the shorter female tottered awkwardly. "I beg your pardon." She apologized; her voice freckled with genuine concern for the shaky female.

The female gently pressed her fingers to her temple. "It's fine." Her soft voice responded.

"Are you sure?" Nesta prodded slightly. "You look like you're about to faint."

"I'm fine." The soft voice hardened as it pushed back. She slowly entered, her striking emerald eyes briefly falling on Nesta as she bowed for good measure before making her way into the bakery.

"Ah, Velara," the baker called after her. "Were you in luck?" Nesta watched Velara's strained movements, her wings tucked in oddly.

Azriel quickly herded her out of the shop. "Pardon you!" She accused as soon as they were outside.

"Pardon yourself." He bit back. "Were you never taught that it is rude to stare?" He led her to a bench.

"Why were her wings tucked in so awkwardly?" She asked as Azriel lowered the trunk and sat down.

He pulled the bag of bread from her hands. "They weren't tucked," Nesta looked away from the door, back to Azriel, hypnotized by the stoic sadness in his voice. "They were clipped."

Nesta sat down beside him. "Why?"

Azriel shook his head aggravatedly. "It's a horrible, primitive practice done through crude surgery. Many tribes normalized it as a way to disrupt female flight, to control them."

Nesta could feel her blood burn. "They mutilate her body to break her spirit."

"Yes." He replied reluctantly. "Rhys has done a great deal to see the practice abolished, but sometimes…" He looked back at the door.

"It still happens." She finished for him. "So, it hinders the ability to fly?"

He nodded. "Depending on the length of the cut, it can limit high altitude flight or any flight at all, if done 'accurately'."

"And if it's not?"

"Major health issues can arise, especially from the healing process alone." He glumly finished as he handed her a roll before biting into his own.

Reluctantly, she took it and nibbled slightly. It was warm and soft with a light and fragrant citrusy sweetness. His eyes stayed on the bakery. "It doesn't make sense." He shook his head. "That baker didn't seem like the type to have her daughter clipped."

"Perhaps she yielded to pressure."

"Perhaps." His voice hinted that he was thoroughly unconvinced as he chewed through his roll. What really caused him to question the possibility was the baker's assumption of Nesta and him. For the baker to see an Illyrian and High Fae mingling and not only suspect the two for a couple, but for her to smile at the idea was very unlike the common xenophobic behavior of most Illyrians so far North. Mixing was at the very least frowned open. He finished eating and shook the thought away. "So, this is going to be difficult."

"Securing a residence?" She rolled her eyes. "It's never been so in the past."

"Well, you haven't moved to the Illyrian Mountains."

"There is a first time for everything, it would seem." She remarked impatiently. "Would you stop being so vague and explain the obstacle I am not seeing?"

"This kind of business is conducted seriously with a great deal of severity and it is rarely done in the company of females."

"It will not be done in the company of females, but by a female."

"How do you plan to keep such a promise?" He smirked, intrigued by her tenacity.

"Simple." She sighed. "Don't speak, only nod."

"I beg your pardon?" Azriel had the sense to nearly sound outraged.

"I'm going to show you just how an Archeron conducts business, without a male interpreter."

It seemed Nesta's method relied heavily on deception and playing into Illyrian misogyny to fluster the few males she encountered. She started each tour with the sob story of her father's vassal, Azriel (it would seem) doing his best to help secure her residence, though a tragic war injury had left him mute. She would remark how he kindly had given her a basic understanding of how to conduct such business.

Azriel's annoyance was quickly replaced by shock to see how effortlessly she used the prejudices heaped against her in this foreign place to her advantage. He feared she would push too far and strike empty in greed but wasn't given the opportunity to find out as she seemed entirely settled on the fourth property they visited. It was a two-story building that was larger than he suspected she needed, but it appeared to be the largest selling point to the eldest Archeron. With a small bedroom upstairs and the large open space below, it had once been a modest restaurant years before and had only been leased no more than a few months at a time since.

Once Nesta double checked with Azriel and he quickly determined that she could buy the property outright and forego the need for installation payments, she jumped on it. Though she knew that her ability to afford it without delving too deep into her pockets was proof that the Inner Circle's outright wealth in Velaris had entirely skewed their perception of the cost of living in the lower-class Illyrian Mountains, she had no problem taking temporary advantage of their ignorance to see herself settled in the slightest comfort. She exited smugly after Azriel had relieved himself of the weight of her luggage. "Hopefully, Cassian won't be too upset."

"Why should he be?" Nesta sighed as her eyes pored over the exterior of her new home. "All the effort we saved him. He should thank us. It's one less responsibility for him to buckle under."

Azriel shook his head. "All the same. I think we should return to the Inn. I have a room to secure and Cassian will be returning there to meet us."

After Azriel booked his room for the evening, he sat in the lobby and helped Nesta compile a list of tasks that she would need to see to. She inquired about her finances and coyly wondered at just how she was meant to spend her time. He noticed the leading cadence of her voice about possible projects and an entrepreneurial spirit slipping through as she remarked on the open space and the size of the kitchen in her new home. Once she excused herself to use the restroom, the Shadowsinger tensed, but quickly thought of the Nesta he'd come to know in the past few months and believed there was no danger she would follow through on such an endeavor.

Just as Azriel was beginning to wonder after Cassian, his brother entered through the lobby, looking sufficiently frustrated. "Could he not be appeased?" Az asked in lieu of a greeting.

Cassian shook his head. "He wants me to pore over the entire contract with Rhys." He sat down at the bar and ordered an ale. "Ever since the war, it feels like every military interaction is stiff, like secession is right around the corner."

Azriel patted his back once as the drink came. Cas gulped the libation greedily. "It won't happen. You and Rhys command enough respect to keep tensions settled." He ordered a drink.

"For now." Cassian huffed. "But I can't help but suspect that our time of past influence is running out. It's as if that last battle reminded everyone just how small our little world is and now, they're all desperate for the biggest piece they can carry."

"Illyria is part of the Night Court. We won't lose it." Azriel swigged from his glass. "You won't let that happen."

Cassian's expression became stern. "I can't."

Nesta marched from the lobby into the adjoined tavern and found the two Illyrians in a tense silence. "So, did you let him know?"

Azriel looked at Nesta and shook his head. "Well, you're here now."

"What?" Cassian reluctantly looked over at Nesta.

"I have a place. We went house hunting while you had your meeting."

"I specifically-"

"Asked me to do nothing?" She nodded. "Yes, I do recall, but I chose not to listen."

He turned and glared at Azriel. "I told you to keep an eye on her."

"And I did, but I too, didn't see the need for such delay." Azriel shrugged. "It was an efficient process." His tone caught Cassian's attention as he noticed an unspoken humor pass behind his eyes.

Nesta nodded sharply. "The only way you wouldn't have slowed us down is if you'd been there to hold the luggage."

Cassian slowly turned back to face Nesta. "That is fine with me. I prefer knowing that I spent my day on something of significance, instead of holding your bags while you plot your next stint to play mistress of the house."

For a moment he thought he had said enough to sting her, yet again she surprised him, appraising his slack defeated posture and one remaining sip of ale. "Yet I can't help but wonder if I'm the only one to achieve some semblance of professional success, for at least I acquired a house. Has your war camp been appeased, General?" Her eyes narrowed just slightly on the final word.

Cassian wanted to sputter for some defense but couldn't think of anything to say. "Military business is strictly confidential."

She nodded. "It's probably best that it stay as such then." She turned away and secured one of seven small empty tables in the center of the diminutive dining room.

Cassian moved to stand, but Azriel paused his movement by placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I think you should fly back to Velaris and talk with Rhys."

"Tonight?"

"You sense the unease. All that can fix this problem is time, effort and someone dedicated to finding a solution."

Cassian nodded. "But what about…" He nudged his head in their female companion's direction. "Her?"

Azriel shrugged. "She's already set with a new home. All she needs is a few days of finalizing details."

"But she's my responsibility." Cassian argued apathetically.

"No," Azriel shook his head. "Now that she's home, she is her own responsibility. That's the whole point; pushing her to be self-sufficient. Today was the perfect start."

"Somebody has to see her through this transition."

"I will."

Cassian stared blankly back at Azriel. "Why?"

A knowing smirk broke across Azriel's face. "I know how difficult this has been for you, Cas. The past few months, the decision to leave her here and all of it happening at the same time as this military unrest. You should go home and put all your focus on where you would be the most help."

"What about you?"

Azriel shrugged. It seemed time to detach himself again, though he couldn't say it so bluntly. He needed space. "I've been wanting a break from Velaris. You know, take some time. Breathe in that frigid air." He smirked lamely.

"I feel like I should stay."

"And ruin my Cassian-free timeout with your annoying personality?" He grinned good-naturedly. "Trust me. You will be happier in Velaris and I will be a much more productive alternative in your stead."

Cassian watched him closely for a moment. "Az, are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He forced a light scoff. "Just a bit bored. This seems a worthy project."

"I'm all for altruism, but you realize you couldn't bestow it on a least grateful subject?"

"I don't need her to be grateful, I just need her to be settled." He shrugged. "I have no doubt I'll be back within two weeks. Probably one."

Cassian nodded. "I agree; you are definitely better suited to stay here and see this finished."

Something about his words seemed uncharacteristically cold to Azriel, at least in regards to the eldest Archeron. It made him wonder, yet again, just what existed between them and how a smoldering flame could be turned to frigid ice? "Let's have dinner before you're off."

The General nodded. "I'll need the fuel." He hadn't expected to be returning that night, but a large part of him was relieved to know that he would soon be in the air, putting miles in between him and Nesta.

Somehow, Nesta found herself joining the two Illyrian males outside after dinner to see Cassian off. It was no farewell, and yet there was something truly significant to be said about the mutual emotional apathy they exhibited in the quick goodbye. They did not approach each other and only shared a look for the briefest of seconds.

"Goodbye, Nesta." He ended simply.

"General." She replied with an abrupt nod.

A second later he was in the air, shrinking as he further delved into the burning horizon. Nesta let her eyes leave him as soon as his wings caught on the wind. She stood beside Azriel and let her eyes roam across the village as far as she could see, reminding herself that she was now home, even if she still didn't know what that meant.

"I'm grateful to finally have him rid of me." Nesta spoke aloud, but Azriel knew the words weren't meant for him.

Still, he couldn't swallow his own curiosity. "How so?"

She looked over at him as if she had forgotten that he had been standing beside her. "Now that I'm gone, it'll be so much easier for them. He won't realize it as quickly as the others did, but he will."

Azriel watched her closely. "It wasn't about convenience. This is supposed to help you." He offered quietly, a soft edge in his tone illuminating his sincerity.

Nesta couldn't be offended by the gentility presented in his voice, yet she couldn't mute her skepticism. "And that makes all the difference?"

His eyes pored over her for a silent moment. "They're worried about you."

She gave him a wry grin that didn't penetrate her harsh eyes. "I can tell that you actually believe that." She scoffed lightly. "But when you arrive back in Velaris, you'll see otherwise."

His brow contorted and for a brief second Nesta was charmed by the crack in his typically stoic countenance. "What do you mean?"

Azriel caught the softest shake of her head. "When you return to your world, look around. This wasn't some push to save me." A sharp sadness overcame her icy gaze and in a fraction of a second, it was gone. "This is a punishment meant to get me out of the way."

"You'd assume that of your sisters?"

She looked back at him with no hesitance. "I envy you if you believe family is beyond such reproach." The second the words left Nesta's mouth, she felt that she was meant to regret them for the dark shadow that fell across his eyes.

"I don't presume to know the inner workings of your family, but I envy your definition of reproach." His hands tightened on reflex and Nesta carefully glanced at his scars, the source of the tension.

"Was it yours that gave you those?" The quiet question ripped from her mouth before she could weigh the necessity for such an inquiry.

Some structural piece of his façade crumbled before her eyes, forcing him to immediately stand taller. "I'll be back to help you oversee preparations in the morning, Miss Archeron. I bid you goodnight."

With a curt nod, he turned and left her standing guiltily in the waning sunset.