"Lucien? Why, what did he do? Are you okay?"

Elain grits her teeth. "See, that right there. That's why I wanted to talk to you. Why would you automatically assume that he did something bad to me?"

Feyre sighs. "Elain, we have a lot more history, and—"

"No, I know. I get that. I know all about the history. I also know that you tried to seduce him to get back at Tamlin. I know that he tried to get to you to heal your arm Under the Mountain and blacked out thirty paces to your cell from the sheer pain and probably faebane poisoning too. I know about the time he did heal you, and about the time he nearly died with you in that pit with the levers. You told me about the good-ish times you had with him in Spring when you tried to convince me to get to know him. And I also know all about you destroying Spring and how he chose to flee with you because he wanted to be close to me. So tell me. If you two fled together, wouldn't it have been hard to winnow through another Court's border? Or even walk through without guards catching you? How can you still think the worst of him, when he has done nothing but be kind to you, Feyre? And if you still hate him, why would you want me to accept him as my mate?"

"That's what this is about? My back and forth with Lucien? Or how you're undecided about accepting him?"

"No. I have already accepted him, and I love and adore him. This is about you seeming to hold some grudge against him, when he has proven himself time and time again to you. I know you used to be friends, and I hate seeing the pain in his eyes when you dismiss him or put him down. Everyone else in his life has put him down, Feyre, everyone. You were a friend. I know there are things he isn't telling me because he doesn't want to cause a rift between us. But I know more than even he knows. These powers...they show me a lot more than I let on, and sometimes it's confusing and scary. But when I'm close to him, they don't seem as daunting, until I find myself in his memories, his nightmares, his thoughts of doubt. And it's unbearable. You may be able to choose whose mind to go into, but I don't get the choice. At least not with him, because we are connected. He's been through so much, Feyre", her voice breaks. "Too much. He's done too much for everyone, even when they don't know it. He's too humble to ever tell them, to tell you. I know that he misses being your friend, and though it's not the first thing on the huge list of things that haunt him, it's there. And as my mate, I-I want you two to be friends again. Even if he and Rhys will never get along, you are your own person. You don't have to hate him because Rhys does."

"Rhys doesn't hate him, Elain."

"No? Because there is a long list of things that he has done or said to Lucien that would claim otherwise, and not much in the opposite direction that would make me think he does. For fuck's sake, Rhys has threatened his mother, Feyre. A mother he loves dearly and is already abused by Beron. A mother that I will never get to meet until that monster dies. Another reason he deserved that slap."

Feyre leans against the wall and rubs her face. "It's complicated, okay?"

"No, it's not. The past may be the past, but pain can still lurk from it. Lucien is in pain all of the time, whether he hides it well or not. He's too good of a male to be carrying all of the blame for everything himself, but because he is so sweet, he does. Because he cares about every fucking person, except himself. I fucking hate that", she chokes out.

"I—Elain, things have happened...", her eyes widen a bit at her sister's cursing.

"Yes, they have. But you can be friends with Lucien, despite Rhys's opinion, just like Lucien can be friends with Tamlin, despite your opinion, or that he can be friends with you, despite his. He is constantly in the middle of conflict, being tugged in every direction. He is the perpetual rope in the game of tug of war. It's worn him down and affected him because he wants to make sure everyone he cares about is happy. So yes, he has had to make difficult decisions that he never wanted to make because he was put in the middle. Decisions that he knew would cost him friends. But there was no other choice but to be utterly complacent and watch you both destroy one another. So he had to choose one at a time. We both know that Tamlin is like a brother to him, and how long they have been chummy. But he chose to help you, Feyre. Over his home, that, may I add, he allowed you to destroy by staying silent about your mating tattoo and glamour."

"He...", she realizes that he must have seen through it, and she looks a bit shocked. "His eye...I knew he looked suspicious."

"Yes, and he went along with it because he cared about you, and because he felt some sense of obligation to you for saving everyone Under the Mountain. He knows what it feels like to feel suffocated. He even told me how you saved him from Ianthe..."

Feyre looses a sigh and wrings her tattooed hands. "Lucien has been a good friend to me, and we have made up. I just—"

"What, Feyre?", Elain presses. "He has done so much to gain your trust back, but I have to say that from the memories he has been so gracious to show me when I've asked, and from all of the other stories I've heard, he has more than paid his due for whatever sort of indiscretion you think he made against you before you left Spring. It's not fair for you to still treat him like this."

"He's still friends with Tamlin!", Feyre blurts out, then quiets her voice again. "Okay? He is still friends with Tamlin. And while I can admit that both he and Lucien have done good things to make amends, that did not lessen the betrayal I feel in my heart when I look at them. They have both saved my life, and for those acts, I am grateful, but that does not erase the stain that resides inside of me for what they did when I was hurting."

Elain swallows and shakes her head. "I know you were hurting. I am sorry that all of those terrible things happened to you. But Lucien didn't do anything to you, he told me he tried his best to convince Tamlin and to help when he could. You are my sister, and I love you. But you are missing the biggest piece to this puzzle, Feyre."

"And what do you think that might be Elain? Enlighten me."

"I cannot presume to speak for Tamlin, as he is still very rough around the edges, as I personally witnessed when I dropped off Briar. I have permission to speak for Lucien, though, and don't you think they were hurting too? You were not the only one Under the Mountain. I know that you were the key; that you suffered and you died, and you were the first of us to be forced to accept a new fae body. But you are not the only one that suffered terrible tragedy and anguish that entire time. All the Courts did. And while I am not lessening your sacrifice or your pain at all, you made the choice to come back to save them and liberate Prythian...to give us these better lives. But the Prythian of before did not have that choice, they had been under her reign of terror for fifty years, Feyre. Longer than our entire lives. That is so hard to wrap our heads around, I know that.

You know that I will always defend you to others, but between us, just—think about it, hm? I mean, what was her goal? Amarantha's goal was to get Tamlin right? And so she did when the bargain's time ran out. Do you imagine what she did with him? Did you ever ask, even if he was ignorant of your pain as well? You saw the good in him once, and with my new gifts, I now know things that others would not have known in hindsight. He is not the monster you make him out to be. Even if he was that day, even if he made a grave mistake. It is a mistake that he is still paying for to this day despite saving both you and Rhys, Az, Briar, and me too, Feyre."

Feyre balks and crosses her arms like an annoyed child, her expression pained.

"And Lucien...", Elain tears up. "My sweet Lucien...the things that he went through Under the Mountain...he has let me see it through his eyes, Feyre. And not only have I seen it, but I felt it. I can swear to you that as much pain as you endured trapped there, he felt a hell of a lot too. I felt those lashes. The sting of what felt like his flesh tearing from his spine when he moved— I saw Amarantha when she forced Tamlin to lash him under the threat of simply killing him instead—and when he tried to get to you and never told you. Days before he was healed and could get to your cell. But he said Rhys had gotten to you first.

Elain looks over her shoulder with a glare, as if expecting Rhysand to be standing there. "Lucien keeps a lot close to his chest. But, I don't think you had realized, or have yet to realize that most fae males do, as far as I have seen. Lucien has so much inner pain it's like I could drown when I immerse myself in his head. And that there are things that you just have no idea about. Things that you were never made aware of."

Everybody judges from their own experiences, but wouldn't it be nice, or even helpful if everyone could try to put themselves in other people's shoes? I literally can now. It's both a blessing and a curse because most times it is filled with horrors and atrocities and more pain than I could have ever imagined. But it also now gives me a voice and gives me insight and makes me a better version of myself than I was back then—naïve and afraid and foolish and simpering."

Feyre looks into the brown of her eyes and Elain takes a deep breath. "I know I seem like a rambling crazy lady to you probably because that's how you saw me when I first got my powers. But my point is...Lucien has nothing more to apologize for, and I won't allow him to feel guilty for one more second about the past. So, if you can't repair your friendship, at the very least pay him mind, show him respect, and hold your tongue whenever you want to say something not so nice. He is my mate, and I will personally tolerate nothing less. Are we clear?"

Feyre looks at her, blue-gray eyes slightly widened in shock at the newfound gumption her elder sister has gained from liberating herself from pretenses and expectations. "I understand", Feyre answers, before schooling her features back to that cool mask of nonchalance and grace, beholden of a High Lady. "But I will ask the same of you."

Elain's jaw ticks and she messes with the ends of her golden-brown hair. "I have always respected you and Rhysand. That is what got me into this mess and turned fae in the first place. Don't think that I was stupid enough not to remember that it was you and your mate that nearly forced Nesta and me to host those vile, backstabbing queens, dear sister. While I was a mousy idiot, eager to make you happy out of a debt I wanted to pay for all those years you put your life on the line to hunt, I did not take the risk into account because I trusted you as I had all those years to keep us safe. Except you both knew—you knew they were not trustworthy, and you infiltrated our home—our safe haven—with them anyway. So before you go telling me that I do not respect the High Lord, or you, Feyre, it would do you a great disservice not to remember that my respect and trust for you both, got my mortal life stolen away."

Feyre is still as ice, eyes hardened and unfeeling for the moment. Frost begins to coat her fingertips at the frigidity of the memory, her guilt becoming physically tied to her Winter Court magic and freezing her up.

"I don't want to fight with you, Feyre. I want us all to get along as sisters, I have wanted that my entire life more than anything. But you cannot compare Lucien and me to you and Rhysand. Lucien would never make a fool or a toy or a show out of me for his own gain or even the gain of others. He would not defile me, degrade me, and mark me against my will. He would not force me to fight a death monster for my own engagement ring, and he would not keep pertinent information about my children from me if any healer had the nerve to only tell him as the male. We are not the same. And while you may have forgiven Rhys for his repeated offenses against you even as daemati mates, as your older sister, I will always carry a 'stain' in my heart for him and I know Nesta does too. So, while your mate has hurt you and Nesta, my mate has vouched for you and saved your life and fought against his kind of vileness the entire time you have known him."

She swallows and shakes her head, taking Feyre's hand lightly. "Before you judge anyone else for their past with you, why don't you look to your left? Your ring finger to be exact." The frost melts from her fingertips with Elain's warm touch.

Feyre sucks in a breath and then bares her teeth a bit, her frozen anger settling as rage-storm of everything she has tried to block out about herself begins to build, claws punching out from her knuckles, slicing a clean gash through the top of Elain's.

Elain hisses in pain and her eyes flicker down to Feyre's hands, those sharp claws gleaming in the faelight of the large arching hallway. "Or you could look even closer...to yourself. And the judgments you pass onto others but never yourself or Rhysand", she grits, droplets of fresh blood beginning to fall onto her other palm as she cradles her hand. "Respect is earned, not freely given, Feyre. Unlike magic, which we do not have a choice in possessing. Something else I think you may have learned just now, after all this time."

Gripping Feyre's face with both hands, even the one streaked in blood, she looks right into her eyes. "I need to show you something. You can trust me, and as my sister, I want to trust you, Feyre."

Feyre lets out a shaking breath as those claws sheath themselves away again, the power wafting off of her becoming less heart-pounding. "Fuck...okay." Closing her eyes, she slowly takes away that wall of black adamant into her mind, moving the shields down for only Elain.

That's when Elain relays what she saw—and what she felt the night previous in Lucien's memory and her interwoven vision. Once it is over, Tears are falling down Feyre's face as air is dragged into her lungs in gasps. "Elain—is...was...?"

"Yes. He tried to get to you. He wanted to get to you, Feyre. He didn't make it. He thought that trying was worth his life, for everyone's sake, too. Lucien has well over-earned the right to be respected by you as a person and as a friend, especially after what he did for us in the War. But Feyre, I—I cannot say that I believe Rhysand has. He made us choose sides; made me choose sides when it came to Nesta...when she was hurting. I was disloyal and disillusioned, but I had always trusted you for safety. He forced me to choose between my sisters when I did not want to and should not have had to. He made you choose between your sister or him—knowing that he could sway you or even just convince you with a smile or pep talk with fake substance. I hope I am wrong. Maybe one day he will be better. But considering that his last big offense was when you nearly died in childbirth merely a year or so ago...only time will tell. I know that he has done good things too. I do. He helped save Prythian by fixing the Cauldron and giving his life, and he is a good father to Nyx, regardless of how he was brought into the world. But...you cannot say that others' actions are unforgivable and constantly put them down when I would beg to argue that many are no worse than what your mate has put you through."

Feyre begins to cry and Elain takes her hands away from her face, hugging her tightly, the slice on her hand now perfectly knitted back together and healed, dried blood down her forearm. "I just want us all to get along, Fey. I want us to all be happy, but all I see is antagonization and rebuffs and tension now. It shouldn't have to be this way, I don't want it to be this way. "

Feyre sobs into Elain's shoulder, hugging her tightly, a reprieve she has needed for a very long time. "I-I have been no better on occasion Elain...I..."

Elain cups her face and smiles softly, her eyes full of sadness, stroking the freckles on her baby sister's face. "You have been holding on to your trauma and pretending that you are fine for way too long, Feyre. You never got to sit and grieve for yourself. You just covered it because you thought you were supposed to be fine just because you found your mate. That's not how it works. You needed time; time that was not given to you. Not by Tamlin, and not by Rhysand, either. You went from nearly marrying one, to sneaking off and marrying the other in three months. Nobody can heal in three months from what you endured. It took me a full year and a half before I even allowed myself to speak to Lucien because of how strong the mating bond is. I didn't want to jump into anything as the worst version of myself. And when I was at my lowest, I just wanted comfort and I turned to another male because I didn't want to feel that bond. That was a mistake I made out of denial and grief for my life. But I needed the time to reel and to make mistakes in order to find my true self. I'm glad that you are where you want to be. But it should not have been forced on you at any point. You gave blood, sweat, tears—your mortal life, to save Prythian. To save Tamlin and his Court. And it is fine that things did not work out there, and it's fine that you belong in the Night Court with Rhysand. What is tragic is the horrible way that it came about and that they both pushed you to be okay when you weren't and maybe still aren't one hundred percent."

Feyre looks down, tears streaking down her face. "I have to be, for Nyx."

"Nyx will be better off with a mother who is mentally and emotionally healthy. You are allowed to feel. You turned your grief into only rage and rage can deplete you more than even sadness. You project that anger onto others instead of dealing with it inside yourself. I think that's what you need to work on...because it's not okay. As they say, hurt people, hurt people. That's true for you, and maybe for others too, hm? And Rhys telling you that it is fine or to forget about your guilt is not helping either. Even if he thinks it is."

She sniffles and lets out a breath, Elain's hands dropping from her face. "Then I wonder...I wonder what Lucien's method is. He always seems so...fine, so unbothered. I think that's one of the things that I hated when I looked at him. Because I wanted to feel that way. Numb. And as hard as I tried, I never truly felt numb, all of my rage always swirled inside of me."

"Yeah, Lucien makes it look easy, but I promise you, Feyre...he is not actually numb. I don't like knowing that he fought his demons all alone for those years you were here, and I wasn't with him." She tears up. "Because I've seen firsthand what all those bad memories do, and they eat him alive on the inside. All his guilt pulls at him, even guilt that has no basis. He's...his morality runs so deep that he feels guilty for things that he had no control over and it kills me. So I thought that if I could fix one of the things he feels guilty about, I could help both him and you."

Feyre wipes her face and takes a breath. "Me?", she whispers.

"You", Elain whispers back affirmatively. "You and Rhys have been so mean to him, Fey. He already carries guilt, but he still regards your opinion, and I don't think that you know how much you truly hurt him when you make jabs at him. Like on Solstice...I didn't get too close because of the mate bond, but I heard you making fun of him living with Jurian and Vassa."

"I know", she says weakly. "And I did regret that."

"But did you ever apologize?"

She bites her lip and shakes her head.

"Y'know, it was made worse because regardless of how you felt about Tamlin, you're the one who ruined the only home he had. That is why he lived in the mortal lands with them, that is why he had nowhere to go. I admit, I will take half of the responsibility too because I was not kind to him then either, and I've apologized for my ignorance so many times. But did you ever think that he lived with them because despite them still being mortal, they were the only ones who valued him and his friendship at the time? They were the only ones that he had to truly talk to?"

Feyre's eyes tear up again as she looks past the threshold to the rest of the family talking and moving into the dining area, Lucien loosely hangs back with a glass of wine, his red hair gleaming like lava and his face looking neutral and unbothered.

"Not only that but...can you imagine what most mortals would think if they saw him? Not only fae but...his scars, his eye? He pretends that the reactions new people have to him don't affect him, but I can always see the pain in his russet eye and in his expression. Jurian and Vassa are his friends because they were the only ones who didn't reel back from him. Which is quite noble seeing as Jurian was tortured for centuries by Amarantha, and Vassa was cursed by a fae death god."

Feyre smiles lightly and nods slowly. "I'm glad they were—are—good friends to him."

"Me too...", Elain says softly. "It just sucks...he is such a good person and he always thinks he is unworthy of-of anything good that he is given." Her brown eyes mist up as she looks over at her mate. "When he's one of the worthiest people of having good things happen to him, especially after all the bad."

Lucien rubs his neck, leaning back against the frame of the archway between the living and dining areas with such graceful ease that Elain suppresses a shiver. She wonders if he knows he drips sex appeal more easily than rain would drip from leaves on trees.

Feyre nudges her. "I will admit, he has always been an appealing male, Elain. I'm glad that his mate is someone so appreciative of both his looks and his heart."

"I'm still mad that you tried to seduce him", she grumbles.

Feyre blushes. "I should not have done that. It could have...well, I'm sure you know how easy it is to be drawn to his charms."

Elain growls and Feyre giggles. "I'm mated too, Elain. There is nothing like that between Lucien and me, and never will be."

"Good", she says, retaining her composure.

"Though you do look hungry for much more than just dinner at the moment", Feyre teases.

Elain's cheek turn pink, and she rolls her shoulders. "It's all still...new."

Feyre smirks. "Oh, I understand, believe me, I do. Now how about we go over there, and...and I can try to apologize. Even if I hate admitting I'm ever wrong."

"At least you can partially admit that about yourself", Elain quips, hooking her arm in her younger sister's. "I want—I want us all to be better. While we may have mates, we are our own people too. I think you've just been...treating yourself as an extension of Rhys, and you're not. I know you love him, and he is your mate and I get that. But you are not him. He has lived so much longer than either of us. Lucien too. We are not extensions of them, they are puzzle pieces of us. Mates should make each other better and whole, not simply meld into one another. Remember that, Fey. Think of all the things you went through before you were taken to Prythian. Think of all the people you wanted to help when you decided not to return to live there. You have liberated Prythian, saved lives, and helped end a war on a great scale. But have you connected with your citizens, and heard their grievances? Hewn City is a horrible place and may always be, but do we truly believe Mor is the only dreamer who resided there?"

Feyre looks down, eyes training over her tattoo. "I've been so busy with Nyx and...and trying to feel some sense of normalcy..."

"You can't do it alone. I wouldn't expect you to. But you have the whole Inner Circle. What are we all doing? We have cushy lives and get to sit in luxury, which is great. But why aren't we all doing more to help the citizens here that are not as lucky as us?"

Nesta raises an eyebrow as she walks up behind Elain, her belly slightly rounded now, and places her chin on Elain's shoulder. "And what about Illyria, Feyre? The females there are still getting clipped. Emerie and Balthazar would love to try and reform the place, but they are a bit weary about having a meeting with the High Lord and High Lady, who are the ones still allowing the clipping to happen, by simply ignorance."

Feyre bristles a bit and shakes her head. "This isn't an interrogation, and I didn't incite you all over to lay it all on me, okay?"

Nesta sighs. "You are High Lady, Feyre. These are the things you signed on to think of when you got sworn in as such. It's not all gowns and tiaras, sister. You can't just ignore it. I know that may be your mate's way of handling huge problems, but it's not an actual answer."

"Stop slandering my mate", Feyre growls. "Or you can all leave."

Elain passes a sidelong glance at Nesta, then looks back at Feyre, looking like a cornered puppy. "Feyre, it is not slander when it's truth. "Nobody wants to stress you out, but it is your job to think of your whole Court. It's been going on for how many centuries and, yes, while he may have passed a law banning it, everyone knows that the law did not prevent them from happening."

"Emerie was her father's victim", Nesta bites out. "Which makes it a very personal issue to me. One that I will make you and Rhys address whether you want to ignore it or not."

"Nesta", Feyre bites out.

"My daughter Illyrian too, Feyre!", Nesta blurts out, tears in her eyes before she huffs a breath, a hand moving to her belly. "And what if we weren't who we are, attached to the High Lord and High Lady and she had been forced to live in the throes of the Illyrian culture?", Nesta chokes out.

Feyre and Elain look at her wide-eyed and teary.

"It's a girl...", Elain half asks, half muses.

Nesta nods, and tears well in her eyes. "She has wings."

Feyre's face looks horrified and she shakes her head. "Nesta...no, the birth...and-and..."

Nesta goes over and grabs Feyre's shoulders, pressing her forehead against hers. "Shh, no no, I'll be fine. Part of my deal with the Cauldron to save you was to change our anatomy. I changed mine too, remember?"

A whoosh of air comes from Feyre's lips and she closes her eyes, leaning against her slightly.

"I-It's a girl?"

Nesta nods and tears fall. "Yeah", she smiles through her tears. "I thought Cassian would be disappointed, but he's more thrilled than even I am I think", she laughs before sniffling and becoming serious again, pulling away to look into Feyre's eyes, the mirror to her own.

"My daughter is Illyrian. We need to stop them from hurting. I saw—see—what it still does to Emerie. She still lives with so much pain, Feyre. She tries to hide it but some days...it's clear in her eyes and the way she moves stiffly. "Please. If you never ever pay my suggestions any mind ever again, please do something about Illyria. I told you, Em and Bal are completely all in on being ambassadors and would love to try. She asked me if you'd be open to listening to them. They would start once the Queens are dealt with, since they have been using male Illyrians as their puppets lately. According to Azriel."

"Wh...wait there's so much info there."

"Rhys didn't tell you..."

She exchanges another look with Elain.

"Don't do that. Both of you. I'm sure he just found out and hasn't gotten to tell me yet. Or...he didn't want me to worry."

"Maybe not, but it's your job to know. Unless he considers your title a mere formality and you're not actually his equal in political power."

"I will speak with him tonight", Feyre snaps a bit. She takes a deep breath and surveys her sisters. "Let's just make it through dinner with as little drama as possible, okay? Plus, I still have someone to speak with first", she says, looking over at Lucien.

Elain nods and grabs her hand. "Right. Come on...oh!" She grabs Nesta's hand with her free one. "You too, I think everyone would love your announcement, and I can't imagine you'll be able to contain Cassian very longer from spilling the beans before you do."

Nesta chuckles as Elain drags her sisters into the adjoining living area, releasing their hands. Lucien straightens up and a smile comes to his face at the presence of his mate.

"That was one long chat", he says softly, flicking a glance at Feyre.

"Yes, it was", Feyre pipes up, coming forward and swallowing hard. "Elain um...well, she...she made me realize that maybe I haven't treated you very well lately...or...in the last couple of years anyway."

Lucien swallows and inclines his head. "It—"

"No", she cuts him off, looking up at him. "It's not okay", she says quietly. Elain tugs Nesta towards the dining room, letting them chat.

"We've been through so fucking much, Lucien", she whispers. "And I've changed a lot. Maybe too much sometimes."

Lucien tries to hold back, but the tears still appear. "Even still, I'd like to think that if the need arose, you'd still take the chance to save my life again."

Feyre scoffs through a sob. "You've saved mine too. Not that there is a score, but technically, I'm the one in debt as of now."

"No scores. We are even."

Feyre rubs her arms and takes a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry", she says, looking into his eye. "You were stuck in the middle of everything and I think I over-believed what was in your power to do. And when we got here I...I kept a grudge that shouldn't have been placed on you, and I said some terrible things...I let Rhys say things too..."

Lucien holds out a hand and Feyre places a tattooed one into it. He squeezes gently. "I forgive you."

She takes a shaky breath. "I guess you were wrong before then."

"About?", he chuckles lightly, raising a brow.

Feyre bites her lip. "About me being a better friend to you than you were to me. You're the better friend, Lucien. You've always fought for me. Just because you failed sometimes doesn't negate that you tried."

He looks down a bit and she squeezes his hand back. "Elain showed me how you...how you did try to get to me Under the Mountain. Days before I gave you hell for not trying and saying you didn't know humans very well and all that..." She looks at him. "Why didn't you just stop me and tell me?"

Lucien runs a hand through his hair. "Because I failed. So it didn't matter that I tried, Feyre. Rhys still got to you first and I didn't protect you when T—he couldn't, and back then...you know what we all thought of Rhys. The fact that I failed and that bargain was the only way you could have saved yourself...I hated myself for that for a long time. I think he did too, and I figured you did as well."

Feyre steps forward and throws her arms around him tightly. "Effort matters, Lucien. I know that now. More than ever. I-I saw how much pain you were in too. I'm sorry I didn't even consider your pain back then...and now, I—"

"You didn't have to. You endured more than any human should have been able to handle. I understand", he replies, hugging her back tightly.

Pulling back she sniffs. "As much as I never belonged there, sometimes I miss when things were simpler. Just...no responsibility. I was blind back then, clearly. But we were pretty good friends. We were both a lot...lighter. Less burdened, or at least you faked it well."

Lucien laughs lightly and leans back on the arm of the sofa. "I think I tried too hard to pretend like things were okay during the times I wasn't actively working. Though babysitting you was a job in and of itself, I mean, my gods."

Feyre lets out a laugh and covers her face, and Lucien laughs along with her, the deep baritone reverberating through the room.

"So much so that you nearly wished me dead once!"

"I apologized for that and gave you one of my best hunting knives!"

"Which I still have by the way", she chuckles. "Actually, I'm fairly safe now, if you'd like it back. Consider it my apology for forcing you to go through the Autumn Court when we escaped", she says quietly. "Of course I wanted to get home, but it wasn't right of me to put you at risk like that. Not to mention that we did get caught."

"You can keep the knife. It was a gift", he smiles. "But thank gods for Cass and Azriel, hm?"

"Definitely."

"You have an outstanding apology waiting from Eris, by the way."

"Do I now?"

"Mhh."

"As much as I took great pleasure in elbowing him in the balls and shit, even back then I knew that if he wanted to burn me, he very well could have. I always found it odd that those binds of fire never did. I think that's when I started to figure out that it was more of an act in front of his—your—brothers that would have reported back to Beron if he had helped us escape."

Lucien narrows his eyes a bit then nods. "It was. As it has been my entire life."

"Why?", Feyre presses.

"Why? Because he knew that Beron probably wouldn't have let me live even if he had to infiltrate other Courts if he thought his heir was soft for me."

"You think that's the only reason?"

He crosses his arms. "Is there something you know?"

"Nope", she answers a bit too quickly and Lucien groans. "What don't I know? It seems to be one thing after another these days."

"I...can't tell you. It would put people in harm's way."

"That's what Eris and Tamlin and Elain said. You all know the same thing and I don't?"

Feyre cringes a bit. "I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"Not at liberty to say, yeah, I've heard that a million times except everyone has told everyone except me."

"I'm sorry. I wish you could know, I really really do. But...not yet. I'm sorry."

Lucien sighs and rubs his face. "Fine. Let's go eat then. I'm starving."

"Me too", she smiles. "And Lucien?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. I-I missed you too."

He smiles shyly and inclines his head as they enter the bustling dining room.