Rain dribbled down the windowpane, heavy and urgent. Most days in the Autumn Court were temperate, if a bit crisp - usually thin clouds flecked a bright blue sky, keeping watch over fallen leaves and sprawling forests. But today there was nothing above except grey, and the heavens released their bounty upon the land in endless sheets of rain.

Fiona Vanserra watched the droplets race each other down the glass, blinking slowly in the misty morning light. Her face was half hidden by rumpled sheets, their hems lined with twisting fronds of fern, winding towards a shock of auburn hair spilled across a matching set of pillows.

One hazel eye rolled lazily to the corner of the room as the door clicked, and a green-skinned faerie bustled in. He didn't say a word, setting down a tray of steaming hot tea on her nightstand. As she watched with a wary eye, the faerie began to move around the room, fluffing pillows and dusting windowsills. She didn't move until he grabbed at the corner of the duvet, threatening to lift the sheets.

A naked leg was snatched back from under the covers, and the hazel eye narrowed. The faerie didn't quite manage to suppress his smirk.

"I'll return when madam is dressed and ready then, shall I?"

The eye only glared in response. Once the door swung shut again, there was a wild kicking on the bed and the sheets flew away to reveal a slender, pale body dotted with freckles. Fiona arose rather unceremoniously, grunting as she stretched and stepped toward a grand old wardrobe of polished oak.

Elsewhere it might have looked ornate, its elaborate carvings delicate despite the cracks - but in Fiona's bedroom it seemed to dwarf the other furnishings, straining against the too-low ceiling. The girl whose clothes it held had long suspected that it had been placed there amongst the rest of the knick-knack and forgotten about. Until she'd moved in. 

In those early years, she'd delighted in the odd collection of tatter lining the walls and adorning the faded the shelves. But as she grew, it became more and more apparent that nothing in the room seemed to fit. Time marched onward and Fiona slimmed out, lengthening until she too began to feel out of place. Like an abandoned ornament, cast aside to gather dust amongst the clutter.

"Madam Fiona?"

She turned, a dress of pale green silk brushing against her calves. The green-skinned faerie popped his head around the door, eyeing the delicate trim of the dress. He nodded approvingly. "Breakfast is being served in the drawing room this morning, if you'd care to join?"

Fiona nodded. "I'll be one minute."

The corridors of the Forest House were narrow and tall, much like its residents. The walls were painted in a deep ivy colour that smothered any daylight and gave one the sense that they were underground, even on these few top floors that broke above the dirt. Fiona traipsed begrudgingly to breakfast, passing looming windows that let in what little light the cloudy sky could offer. Servants appeared and quickly bowed their heads, relaxing visibly when they recognised her, and realised she wasn't one of them - the ones to be feared. 

Any variation of red hair likely set the house staff shaking. But just as there are less violent shades of red, there were less important sons and daughters of Autumn - sons and daughters in whose presence the servants made less of an effort. And Fiona didn't mind being one of them.

Most of her cousins were already seated when she arrived, a scattering of pale faces registering her arrival with identical expressions of disdain and disinterest. Their features were all similarly sharp and narrow like her own, their chins jutting out with a sense of arrogance that took years to perfect. Fiona didn't bother to smile or greet them as she took up her usual spot near the end of the obnoxiously long dining table. 

There was little conversation to be had amongst them anyhow – beside the insufferable gaggle of females at the court, the only cousins who entertained any real sense of kinship were the eldest sons of the Autumn lords. And even this kinship was tentative at best, since sons were bred as rivals to the crown seat, each with a certain chance of inheriting the full strength and abilities of a High Lord depending on their demeanour and the training they received. 

As the years ticked by, the court watched their children like gathering vultures, waiting for some sign of promise. But since none had thusfar materialised, competition and suspicion between the sons grew fiercer each year.

The High Lord himself was notably absent from breakfast. 

Eris, though no fonder of his extended family than Fiona, usually ate with the rest of his court, even if he did so sullenly, and at his own table. She had often heard the ladies gossiping that before inheriting his father's position, many had expected Eris' brothers to wage war for Beron's seat. But when the old fox succumbed to a plague that swept the land sometime after Fiona's birth, it was said that Eris took power uncontested. The move was such a shock that it became a popular joke among the courtiers that Eris would someday satiate his power-driven bloodlust by culling any of his offspring who brought shame to his land or title.

And with the atmosphere of spite and rivalry bred amongst Eris and his brother's heirs, it was hard not to believe them. After all, the Autumn princes had sired so many children that the High Lord could likely have done such a thing with little reprimand. It was common knowledge that in other territories the Autumn Court was just as often referred to as the Bastard Court; many sons and daughters were of dubious parentage, and looked so similar that there seemed no real difference between them. After a while, if a child had red hair it was generally assumed that they were somehow a part of Eris' and his brothers' throng.

Aidan, one of the more dangerous of the Autumn sons, was also missing from the breakfast table, Fiona realised, as she helped herself to a plate of eggs, casting a subtle eye around the room. Although Eris' eldest son Cillian was firstborn, and therefore technically the first in line for his crown, even the smallest fae in the court knew that it was his second, Aidan, who should be feared. While Cillian was smug and brash, Aidan was sly and silent. His roving eyes were narrow like his father's, and like Eris their dark depths held a glint most cruel. He usually liked to keep his competition in sight at all times, which was why it was his absence that really piqued Fiona's interest.

"I heard tell that Riordan was spotted back at court, winnowing in early this morning."

The sound of a familiar name made Fiona straighten in her seat. Following the whispers across the table, her attention fell to Lord Cedrik's twin daughters, Isolda and Keegan, whose conspiratorial heads were bent together as they nattered.

"Riordan?" Isolda gasped, the motion exaggerated, laughable. "Whatever is he doing here? Lord Eris was hardly pleased to see him leave...I wonder what could possibly have brought him back?"

Her heart skipped a beat. Riordan had grown up at the Autumn Court, and had been Fiona's one and only ally in this den of snakes. He was like a brother to her, though it had been years since she'd last seen him. With deeper skin and several blonde streaks in his hair, Riordan's parentage had always been the subject of much gossip amongst the court. Until one day Helion, High Lord of Day, swooped in to claim him as his heir, and demanded he return home to be legitimised. 

Eris had been furious, but even he couldn't technically disprove Helion's claim. Now Riordan was known as the Prince of Daybreak, and Eris as the Lord of Bastards. Quite the fairytale ending for one of Autumn's sons, but it had left Eris humiliated, seething for revenge. Riordan's return, Fiona knew, could not be a casual affair.

Isolda's jabbering was cut off by the sound of hard-heeled shoes on the wooden floor, announcing the entrance of another. For this arrival the whole table turned to watch. 

Servants bowed their heads low and averted their gaze as Aidan Vanserra strode into the drawing room, dressed sharply in a black tailcoat. His dark russet hair seemed to repel the morning light and shadow his countenance, nearly concealing those sharp, narrow eyes. He came to a stop at the head of the table, his usual seat left empty for him.

"Hurry up and finish eating." Aidan growled by way of greeting, his voice rumbling like quiet thunder around the room. The very corner of his lips twitched up in a smirk. "We have company."

His exit was accompanied by the sounds of clashing cutlery and scraping chairs as his cousins hastened to follow him. Usually, Fiona would have taken the opportunity to laugh at the desperate way they scrambled, but the prospect of seeing Riordan for the first time in years had her dashing nimbly across the room to join them.

They moved as one, a red-headed beast that whispered through the corridors and cast suspicious glares in every direction. Lord Eris always met visitors in his so-called 'throne room', the most decadent and ostentatious chamber in the house. It was his attempt to intimidate any patrons before they began the verbal battle. If there was one thing Eris could not be faulted for, it was his wit.

The gaggle of High Fae reached the entrance to the throne room and morphed into a different beast; a straight-backed, haughty creature that entered quietly and with its heads held high. Fiona abandoned any sense of decorum, walking on the tips of her toes to try and catch a glimpse of who was being presented. Only when her family settled into a line behind the throne did she finally get a glimpse.

Riordan looked positively resplendent in Day Court white, gold thread woven into every seam and collar, outlining him like a halo. But it wasn't his new finery that posed the most marked change; there was a sense of strength and pride emanating from him, in his posture, his soft, charming smile and the way he clasped his hands. He looked dignified.

"Greetings to your gracious court, High Lord." Riordan bowed deeply, and when he rose the twinkle in his eye made Fiona wonder if that had been mockery in his tone. His features suited the playful spark residing in his bright golden eyes – he had never inherited the sharp, angular edges of the Autumn courtiers, and his time at the Day Court had tanned his skin and softened his features. Even the platinum streaks in his deep red hair seemed to have brightened. Everything about him was lighter, smoother, as though he could kick off the ground and drift into the sky at any moment.

"As I was saying, before your family deigned to join us-"

"They were your family too, not so long ago."

Eris' voice had never commanded respect the way his son's could. But where Aidan was booming, the High Lord was snide, his every comment sharpened like a blade, his greatest weapon against his opponents. Each Court had their own powers with which to wage war, and though Eris could curl smoke and flame at his fingertips, this was Autumn's battleground.

The High Lord leaned across his throne, raised absurdly high in the centre of the room. His dark amber eyes were wary as they roamed over this visitor, searching for something. He reminded Fiona of a bloodhound, sniffing for weakness.

"Though I'll admit, you no longer look like one of us," Eris sneered. "Your imitation of a Prince of Day is laughably poor. You've come here to prove something it seems - but you look every bit the Bastard Prince they make you out to be." 

Though her cousins sniggered behind Eris' throne, Riordan was unshaken by this first swipe. "There is no need for imitation, my Lord Eris." His polite smile was edged with a warning that made Fiona's heart leap with pride. "Helion is my father, my blood. I am a Prince of Day."

A slight chill crept into the room as a dark smile played across Eris' lips. "Prince or pauper, Day or Dawn – you'll never escape this side of your blood, dear boy." 

Riordan looked ready to parry once more, but Eris cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. "Let's not dally on details of heritage. Come, what have you returned so brazenly to tell me?"

Fiona caught a flash of irritation from her cousin, but before he could say anything stupid, she came upon an urge to clear her throat, stepping surreptitiously to the front of the line. Riordan's eye fell upon her and sparked with joy, though he knew better than to smile. Fiona, however, was stood out of sight of Eris, and allowed herself a beaming grin as her hello.

Riordan returned his attention to the High Lord with practised poise. "I've come to extend an invitation from the Solar Courts. A summit is to be held concerning the issue of the Spring Court."

Eris let out a breathy chuckle as a wave of hushed murmuring rippled through his gathered kin. "I see. So Morrigan's grown tired of warming Tamlin's seat. Has she had no luck finding the beast?"

Fiona had been raised on tales of the monster that roamed beyond the border - the High Lord of the Spring Court was once a handsome fae, as the stories told. But after the loss of his true love and destruction of his lands at the hands of the evil Night Court he changed into a hideous beast, and roamed the wilds, stuck that way forever - or so the servants said.

Riordan shook his head. "The Spring lands have begun to wither. The magic is waning there. The Solar Courts have taken this to be a sign of Tamlin's passing."

"Funny," Eris scoffed. "I would've thought your Lord of Day, with all his wealth of knowledge, might have done better than a guess." He stood, his emerald green robe rippling gracefully as he descended the throne. "Fine. I will attend this summit with my two eldest sons." 

He halted in front of Riordan, whose eyes flitted to Fiona.

"Why not bring some of your daughters, my Lord?" he suggested coolly. "Prythian has yet to meet the many beautiful ladies of the Autumn Court."

Isolda and Keegan giggled somewhere behind Fiona, but Eris wasn't fooled. He followed Riordan's gaze, turning upon his brood, and the girls immediately fell silent. His eyes narrowed into slits as Fiona held her breath.

"Perhaps you're right, Prince of Day," Eris spoke slowly, the cogs turning in his calculating mind. "Perhaps," he mused. "I should bring all my kin."

Riordan blinked in surprise. 

"Yes, why not show them firsthand how great our need for extra territory has become." Eris allowed himself a wry smile as Fiona put the pieces together. She hadn't understood much of what her uncle and cousin were discussing, but she knew a ploy when she saw one. Eris was planning to make a bid for the Spring Court, to take it as his own.

It seemed Riordan had also caught on, as he smiled knowingly. 

"Very well. I'll look forward to seeing you again at the summit." He bowed once more.

Eris stopped the younger fae in his tracks as he took his leave. "And this is Rhysand's doing, is it?"

"Technically Nyx is in charge." Riordan shifted on his feet. "But yes, you're correct to presume that the meeting will be held in the Night Court."

Eris' chuckle was a dark and chilling thing. "He always was an ambitious boy. Well then, I see no reason why you can't accompany us on the journey." The High Lord lifted his chin loftily, as though presenting his nephew a challenge.

Riordan folded his hands neatly behind his back. "I had planned to winnow back to my father."

"Of course, of course." Eris purred. "But since I'm now bringing all of my court, we'd best go by carriage." He turned away from his nephew, a glint of mischief in the parting look he shot over his shoulder. "And you'll want to accompany us, I'm sure," he called, heading for the door. "For old time's sake."