It takes ages to get to Lucien's apartment. We trek through the market and beyond the city limits. Before long we are travelling down a small foot path with a few houses scattered along the way, almost everything out this way seems to be some kind of farm land. He gives me small bits of information as we walk - talking about the different fields we pass and which ones he helped tend to when he was younger. As he talks I imagine him, much younger and significantly more carefree, roaming through the fields and tending to the crops. I steal a glance towards him and note the dark purple splotches under his eyes and the paleness of his usually tan skin and I worry for the first time that he is worse off than he's letting on. I don't have long to ponder his well being before the mountains that were once far off in the distance loom just in front of me. Rough, wild peaks soar up towards the sky with snow capped tops that are just barely visible in the growing darkness. We veer towards them and I have to consciously keep my jaw from dragging in the dirt at the sheer size of the steep, sloping ridges. I'm so enthralled with the picturesque view in front of me I run right into my companion as he comes to an abrupt halt in front of me.
"Home sweet temporary home," he murmurs as if I hadn't just walked straight into his back. As if I wasn't even there at all. I step around him and look up at the desolate building squatting in front of us, it's tucked away off the pathway and a few trees partially conceal it from view.
Lucien was being very generous when he described the dwelling we arrive in as "home". It's more like a slightly larger than average broom closet. Dust covers every inch of exposed surface and the floorboards groan under our feet as if in complaint at the added weight. There's enough room for a small desk beneath the window and two small beds on either side of it. Spinning in a full circle gives the entire layout of the apartment. I turn to Lucien with a brow raised. "I said you'd have a warm bed. Not that you'd be sleeping in luxury." A crooked smile brings an inkling of light to his russet eye as he flops onto one of the beds. Dust plumes up around him and he stifles a cough. "Okay, so it's been a while since I've been here."
"I thought you stopped in to see your brother? Where have you been staying?" I approach the second bed and pull the duvet back, giving it a rough shaking out to rid it of the dust bunnies. After the dust settles once more I sit carefully on the edge of the bed.
"In all honesty?" He reaches up and scratches at the back of his neck, his bound red hair slipping over his shoulder with the movement. "I haven't seen Eris yet. Or my other brothers. I only arrived moments before I ran into you." I narrow my eyes.
"You said you were stopping in for a few days."
"Yes, well." He lifts a shoulder in a non commital gesture. "I was planning on it. But as it turns out I'm still not very comfortable here."
"So you lied," I accuse.
"I didn't lie. I really was planning on staying for a few days before heading for Velaris. But then I arrived and I walked around the market and... even with Beron gone it still feels... wrong to be here. I don't belong here."
"I know the feeling," I mutter. "I don't think I belong in Spring either." For a long moment we stare at each other across the dismal room, the only light coming from the small lamp resting on the desk between us. "Did you always feel out of place? Or was there a time when Autumn felt like home?"
"At one time this felt like home, yes. I was ignored by most of my family; Beron and my brothers. I was glad for it, so don't get that look of pity in your eyes. My mother loved me deeply and showed it well. I was free to do as I wished within the court since I had no real requirements or duties to fulfill. It stopped feeling like home after Jesminda." His voice trails off. I don't push the subject; I know all about Jesminda and her tragic ending, Lucien's narrow escape from the Autumn Court.
"Did Spring feel like home to you?" How do you find home? I want to ask him. How do you know when you belong? Where you belong?
"For a time. But no, Spring isn't my home either." He studies me before softly asking, "Does Spring feel like home to you?" I shrug as I consider my answer.
"I don't know. It's all I've ever known, so shouldn't it?"
"I think you're the only one that can decide what home is to you, Florence." I don't deign to respond, instead a heavy sense of exhaustion settles over me. I suppose all of the adrenaline I built up fleeing from my court has worn out of my system. I nearly collapse against the pillow on my bed, not caring about the dusty smell of the case I rest my face on, and fall asleep before Lucien has the opportunity to make any other ground breaking revelations. Later. I promise myself. I'll figure out what feels like home later.
Cold light filters in through the dirty blinds and pulls me from a dream where I was soaring over the peaks of the mountains and through the clouds as snow drifted around me. I shiver under my blanket and tug it up closer to my chin; it would take a lifetime for me to get used to this colder air. Lucien still sleeps across from me and in the dim light I can just make out his face. Slack jawed and snoring softly he looks centuries younger - relieved from the stresses of his life.
"Stop staring at me." I jolt in surprise at his voice and he adjusts the arm slung over the top of his head slightly. "It's creepy," he mumbles.
"I can't help it. You're just so angelic as you sleep," sarcasm drips from every syllable. "When do we leave?" He opens his russet eye to a slit to look at me.
"Why are you so ready to leave?" He stretches out to his full length, his feet hanging slightly off the end of the bed. With a groan he sits upright and runs his fingers through his hair, down his face. "Let me just wake up first," he says through his hands.
"I forget that it takes longer for the elderly to get started in the morning. Take all the time you need."
"Says the female tucked into a ball and shivering under her duvet." I scowl at him, but can't deny it. I had meant to get out of bed early and change clothes before he woke up, but the thought of putting my bare feet on the wood floor that is surely icy kept me under my blankets. As if reading my mind, Lucien stands up, shoves his feet into his shoes and tosses my bag to me. "Get dressed. I'll wait outside." The door clicks softly behind him and I have to give myself a tiny pep talk to shove my blankets off. Exposed to the chilly air, I dress at record speed and tug on not only a long sleeved tunic and thick pants, but also a my hooded sweater. I wish I had packed gloves... I don't think I even own gloves. I make a mental note to buy some if I ever decide to venture into Winter; however I don't see myself setting foot there any time soon. If the Autumn mornings are too cold for me, I can't imagine how frigid full blown winter would be. I swiftly make the bed behind myself before meeting Lucien out on the front stoop. His breath billows out in white puffs as he reaches for my hand.
"I can winnow," I say testily.
"Yes, but I can winnow us all the way to Velaris. Can you make it that far?" There isn't a condescending tone to the question but my frown deepens as I clasp my fingers around his.
"No, I barely made it here."
"I can help you build up your stamina. But first let's get out of here before someone finds us." A warm, steady wind pulls at us as Lucien drags us through that empty space between realms. When the world finally stops spinning, we're standing before a quaint townhouse situated between rows of nearly identical homes. They stretch out far into the distance along the curve of the road. The sun is up already and shining brightly over a large city. The largest city I've ever seen. In the distance I can hear the voices of shop owners and customers, faeries arriving for work, children laughing as they walk hand in hand towards a school, and the sound of a river that cuts clean through the city itself. How is it possible that each place I visit is more beautiful than the last? Will I ever feel something other than absolute wonder when I arrive somewhere new? I surely hope not.
"Welcome to Velaris," Lucien says from my side. "Since I'm here to visit with Rhys and Feyre, you have the option to join me, or explore the city if you'd like."
I choose the latter. I leave Lucien at the doorstep of the townhouse and head into the heart of Velaris as he shouts towards me to meet him back here at dusk. I give a noncommittal wave over my shoulder and practically glide into the city. Hours pass as I become aquainted with Velaris and the people that live here. I flow through shop after shop, walk through what I learn is called the Rainbow of Velaris, and finally stop to eat lunch along the bank of the Sidra River with stars in my eyes. The people are friendly and open, all of them more than happy to talk to me as if we were old friends. Generous and kind. Unburdened. Faeries pass around me, unhurried, running errands or simply enjoying the sights of their city. A few stop as they cross the bridge to the other side where a white stoned square called the Palace of Thread and Jewels sits nestled against the other bank. I make a mental note to visit the square before I leave Velaris.
I settle in to watch those that pass by me, enjoying the shade offered by a young tree. Even though it feels like no time has passed at all, the faeries in the city start to trek back towards their homes and the sun begins to dip in the sky. Saying farewell for now to the Sidra, I heave myself up from the ground, stretch, and head back towards the townhouse. I'm surprised at how quickly I make my way back to the row of homes and how easily I pick out the place Lucien left me earlier. The lights are shining brightly from inside as I pop open the gate and head up the front steps. I can hear multiple voices from inside and pause, hand clenched into a fist and upraised in preparation to knock. Instead, almost out of instinct, I throw a shield around myself to mask my scent and any noises that might alert the occupants of the townhouse to my arrival. I take a step closer to the door and listen.
"And you expect me to believe you didn't go to her apartment?" A woman's sharp voice asks. I hear a low murmur before Lucien responds to the female.
"I did not go to her apartment, Nesta. Why would I? She wants nothing to do with me and she made that much clear at the Winter Solstice. I may not be happy with her decision or... okay... but I'm no fool." There's a raw edge to his voice. Winter Solstice was roughly six months ago; they must be discussing Elain and her rejection of the mating bond. A crack opens in my heart for Lucien and the pain visiting this place must bring to the surface. Especially right after his first time entering into the Autumn Court since Beron's passing.
"And the girl you brought with you? Bringing her here makes you a fool if I've ever seen one," the female quips. I bristle.
"Calm down, Nesta." I recognize Feyre's voice. "Florence is well passed the age of maturity and she is free to do as she pleases. That includes seeing what's outside Spring." There's a note of defensiveness to her voice as she speaks. I'm about to release my magic and knock on the door when I feel a pressure against the shield to my back. I spin on the spot and come face to face with who I, at first glance, think is Rhysand. But no; this male is younger and when he looks up from where his hand is placed on the invisible barrier to my face, I can pinpoint the differences in his features.
His night black hair is just a little longer than Rhys' and is mussed up in a way that tells me he probably spent too long trying to get that 'just rolled out of bed' look. His full lips curve into a dangerous smirk and although he has dark stubble across his jaw, I can see a deep dimple on his right cheek. There's a thin break in his beard and moustache right above the curve of his lip that moves down at an angle towards his chin. A scar from some old wound. If I thought that Rhys was beautiful, he doesn't even hold a candle to the male that stands before me.
"This is impressive," he says, his deep voice a bit muffled through the barrier. He raps his knuckles against the shield and lifts his chin towards the house now behind me. "Spying on my family?" Light glints off three silver rings that adorn his ear.
"Your family?" I ask, even though I know he must be related to Rhys. They look similar in only that way that close blood relatives can. He quirks a thick brow and his smirk turns into a dazzling smile.
"I'm Nyx. And you are?" Nyx. The Heir of Night.
"I'm here with Lucien on official court business," I say instead of giving him my name. I double check that my mental shields are up and firm; if there was one thing my father drilled into us as kids it was to always protect our minds. Rhysand and Feyre are powerful Daemati, and if I had to make a wild guess I would assume their heir would've inherited that power. The last thing I need is one of them to be prying into my mind. Nyx's eyes flick up towards the door.
"Lucien is here?" As he steps around me, Nyx drags a finger across the outside of my shield sending a shiver down my spine as he does so. With the action, I don't fully drop my magic, but I do pull it in closer to myself. I don't need to see his face, I can feel the smug smile he now wears. I scowl at the back of his head and invision myself throwing something, anything, right at that stupid black mop.
"Hello, darling," Feyre greets her son with a loving hug in the antechamber of the townhouse. Nyx dwarfs his mother; wrapping his strong arms around her and almost completely concealing her from sight. When he releases her and approaches Lucien across the hall, Feyre notices me. Despite the surprise lighting her eyes she smiles softly. "Hello, Florence. Please, come in." She opens her hand in a gesture for me to enter the house and I do so. The townhouse is much fuller than I had anticipated. Lucien stands with Cassian and Nyx in the kitchen, pouring glasses of a deep red wine, and actually laughing with the other two males. There are two females I don't recognize taking up space on the couch. One dressed in an extravagant red dress and sprawled out with her legs over the arm of the couch and her head propped up on a pillow, golden hair spilling off the edge of the couch. The other wears a long sleeve, sleek black dress and sits with her back stiff against the cushion behind her. She rotates between scowling at the blonde and glaring at Lucien in the kitchen; where he dutifully ignores her. As I ease into the room her eyes slide to me. Cold and calculating.
"Nesta, meet Florence," Feyre introduces me. From the kitchen, I feel Nyx's eyes on me as well. With a glance in his direction I see the other two males pretending to find their wine suddenly very interesting. Nyx lifts his cup in the air slightly, in a silent toast towards me, before taking a drink and returning his attention back to the other two.
"Hello!" The blonde swings her legs off the arm of the couch and nearly skips towards me. She pulls me into a hug that takes me by surprise. "My name is Mor. Don't worry about Nesta. She's always a grump."
"Only when people arrive in my home to disrupt my lifestyle, Morrigan."
"Oh please. No one is disrupting your life." Mor rolls her eyes and leads me to a chair.
"Lucien steals away the princess of Spring and brings her home to us. You don't consider that a disruption?" I don't know when Cassian came to stand behind Nesta, he seems to materialize out of thin air. He presses a hand to Nesta's shoulder, squeezing gently, and ruffles his wings. But he doesn't say anything.
"Nesta-" Lucien starts, taking two steps towards us.
"Lucien didn't steal anyone," I snap. "I'm not an object that belongs to Spring Court." Nesta lifts a perfectly manicured eyebrow in surprise.
"Will Tamlin see it that way?" She counters. Tension climbs in the room.
"Tamlin is an adult. I have no duties tying me to the Spring Court and I'm free to roam as I please. He does not own me." For a moment I think she'll press me again, but I do not break eye contact with her, something inside of me whispers not to yield to her venom. Instead I stare her down for what feels like an eternity before she looks away first, tilting her head up to look at Cassian standing behind her. She places her own hand over his and pats it twice before leaning back against the couch. The cold look on her face doesn't leave, but I do notice that the rigidity seems to leave her spine. A little bit anyways. That female is wound so tight I'd hate to be around when she snaps. Feyre excuses herself from the room and Nyx saunters over to the chair I'm seated in, leans over the arm of it and dangles a glass of wine out for me.
"It's okay to throw it all back at once," he confides, shooting a glance at Nesta. "My aunt is a bit rough around the edges." I don't miss the snort that comes from Nesta at his remark, nor do I miss the small smile that touches the corners of her mouth. Though she doesn't deign to look at us, I can feel her affection for the male standing beside me. I take the drink from Nyx and do as he says, downing it in one go.
"Thank you, Nyx." He offers me a wink before standing and going back to join Lucien in the kitchen.