Over the next week, Fiona found herself living something of a double life. Some nights she visited Velaris, flying under the stars beside Riordan, Bella, Gabriel and Xander. They would dance, and drink and Fiona learned to laugh - though she never stayed at the townhouse overnight for fear of her absence being noticed.

Other nights, she felt the watching eyes of her cousins and did not dare sneak off to the city of starlight. Those evenings she spent beside Baird, talking tentatively about life in their respective courts. Though she had grown to enjoy his company, and loved to hear him talk so passionately about the snow-capped mountains of home, Fiona's heart never stopped yearning for Velaris. She often caught herself daydreaming while he spoke, her thoughts wandering to the sea breeze, the feeling of liberty that came from walking beneath the open night sky. Every night that Bella, Dan and Xander strode smugly into a little corridor without Fiona, a part of her felt absent until their return.

The time she spent at the palace did, however, allow her time to attend the summit – which seemed to finally be achieving something. As an attendant, Fiona despised Eris for acting as the last remaining thorn in Morrigan's side, constantly dismissing and rejecting every attempt to install her as High Lady. As a member of his court, however, a small part of her was grateful – the longer the council deliberated, the more time she had to enjoy away from the Forest House.

One afternoon, Eris was doing a particularly spectacular job of playing the contrarian when Fiona entered the council hall, expecting the summit to have ended for the day. She spotted Riordan standing beside Bella near the Peregryn party, and weaved through the crowd to join them.

"What are you doing amongst the plebeians today, Dan?" She offered him a smirk that he didn't return.

"My father gave me leave," Riordan answered, his eyes on Eris. "But I just had to stay."

Bella was scowling. "Your uncle is putting on quite the performance."

The words had hardly left her lips when Eris stood from his throne rather abruptly, his chair scraping against the marble tiles. The hall fell silent.

"I have made my position on this matter very, very clear."

Eris' voice trembled with a quiet rage that Fiona had not heard before. "You may not like my agenda, but surely none of you are so stupid as to be blind to hers." He directed his fury at the Morrigan as he spoke again. "She is not fit to be High Lady. She will be a permanent ally to the Night Court. You reject my proposal of absorbing the Spring Court, but in appointing her you will be dissolving it all the same."

"She is independent from her friends," Morrigan snarled. "And everyone here seems willing to vouch for my loyalty to the Spring Court, Eris." She practically spat his name, a pretty fist forming over the arm of her throne.

Eris shot a hopeful look at Kallias, High Lord of Winter, who met him with an icy stare. "We have considered every possible alternative." Kallias said sternly. "Lord Helion has explained that the role is most likely to fall to Morrigan anyway – so why not appoint her officially?"

Helion nodded with heavy-lidded eyes. Fiona almost laughed at the boredom etched clearly on his face - he looked as though he'd rather be a hundred places other than the Mountain Palace, deciding the fate of Prythian for centuries to come.

But Eris was not satisfied. "Even wondrous Lord Helion has admitted that he has no idea how Morrigan's birthright may affect the succession!" he barked, genuinely incredulous. "It's been hardly a millennia since her family ruled the Night Court themselves!"

Though the others shared an exasperated look, Fiona - for once - found herself inclined to agree with her uncle. Of course, she'd heard the legends about the Morrigan; her gift was truth, and surely no other power qualified her quite as much to take up the mantle of High Lady. But she was aligned to the Night Court. No matter what she said - a decade at Spring didn't erase a lifetime in Velaris. And as someone who's heart was torn between two courts, Fiona knew which she would have chosen.

"We are all in agreement." Zayde was one of the few who remained upright on her throne, turquoise eyes glinting dangerously. There wasn't so much as a glimmer of the fae Fiona had drank with in Velaris, not in this hall. Here, Zayde was a High Lady, firm and, if truth be told, a little frightening. "If we are not unanimous now, then all of us are willing to sit here until we are."

Helion looked as though he might protest - before he registered the bite in Zayde's voice and clearly thought the better of it.

"I have made myself clear," Eris repeated, raising his chin as his eyes flared with molten ire. "I will not accept her as High Lady. So either you reconsider – or risk my wrath."

"As terrifying as your wrath would be, Eris-"

All heads turned to the starry archway as the High Lord & Lady of the Night Court appeared, clothed in black silk that billowed behind them on the evening breeze. Rhysand and Feyre Cursebreaker held hands as they swept past a slack-jawed Eris to stand beside their son Nyx, who wore a vulpine grin.

"-it looks like you're a tad outnumbered." Rhysand purred. A wave of muttering broke out amongst the attendants, and even the High Lords sat a little straighter on their thrones. Belladonna's chest rose with pride, allowing her wings to flare among the crowd.

Rhysand conjured a pair of chairs either side of Nyx, one fit for his enormous black wings, and the other fashioned elegantly from a dark cedar wood. They stood out from their fellow rulers in every way, from their seats, to the waves of power radiating off them - even down to the respectful greetings offered by the other lords. 

No wonder Eris is so keen to keep the Spring Court away from their influence, Fiona thought. This pair are one gracious bow away from contesting rule of Prythian itself.

"Whatever is the matter Eris?" Feyre Cursebreaker crossed one elegant leg over the other as she spoke. "Our son tells us you've been troublesome this past week."

Her tone was condescending, her words plucked as though spoken to a servant or subject. Smoke curled from Eris' fingertips and the fae behind him broke into murmurs of concern. And yet, though he seemed to blaze, Fiona felt a pang of disappointment as she watched him sink slowly into his throne, backing down.

Morrigan leaned forward in her chair as though savouring every moment of his retreat.

For once, Fiona understood the tight leash he held on his family, understood his cruel reign - here he was treated like little more than a welp, who'd wandered into the big leagues on accident. She wasn't sure if the realisation made her more sympathetic, or more desperate to distance herself from him.

"So wonderful to see you've both returned safely from your business abroad," Eris spoke through his teeth, crushing something in his fist that sent up a puff of soot. "The matter must have been truly demanding to keep you away so long."

"Indeed it was," Rhysand answered, his eyes dark. "But back to the issue at hand-"

"I will not agree."

Rhysand angled his head with predatory intensity, and it was so familiar that Fiona had to blink away the image of another in his place. The High Lord sat still for a moment before exchanging a glance with his mate. There was a beat of silence before he offered smoothly, "A compromise, then."

Eris was stewing silently in his anger. So Rhysand went on. "You will not accept Morrigan's rule for fear that it will give the Night Court an ally to the south. You also believe that it is a gamble to place her in charge and wait for her powers to settle. Is that fair?"

The Autumn Lord said nothing and refused to even look up at them. Morrigan broke into a wicked smile, as though preempting victory.

Rhysand continued. "There is no way to avoid giving Morrigan the position of High Lady. Even you, Eris, must understand that there is no other option."

Eris opened his mouth to protest, but Rhysand went on. "What perhaps us gracious Lords and Ladies can agree on, is how the matter of succession will unfold." the High Lord looked around the circle to a few assenting nods. "Since there is some uncertainty as to Morrigan's heritage, I suggest that we place her in charge with one small caveat; should another inherit Spring's powers in her stead, then we agree that they take the mantle of ruler without question - and Mor will return to the Night Court. Rather begrudgingly, I'd expect."

He flashed her a smile that Mor returned before meeting the eyes of the others in challenge. There was a moment of silence as they considered, perhaps wondering how much easier it might be to dispose of a random heir than risk the wrath of Rhysand and Feyre.

After some time, Thesan spoke.

"I could agree to those terms."

"I too would accept."

Kallias nodded to Feyre who gave him a gracious dip of her head. After several other mutters of assent, all eyes turned to Eris, who sat silently rubbing ash between his fingers. "It's kind of you to act as though I have a choice. Really, it is." He chuckled darkly and without mirth, a sound that scurried down Fiona's spine, a sound that she recognised from home and knew to fear. Though she could tell the others didn't hear the threat behind it, as they sighed with relief at his next words. "So, I suppose I must accept."

"Then it's settled." Rhysand stood from his throne and stepped into the centre of the circle, extending a hand. The power emanating from him was enough to make Fiona shy away, though she didn't blink as tendrils of darkness pooled out onto the marble. A moment later Feyre joined him. The two shared a loving glance as her hand slid over his, and a sliver of starlight merged with her mate's power.

One by one, the High Lords & Ladies stood, adding their own brand of magic until a swirling, many-coloured core pulsed gently, hovering a foot above the marble. The damper they had over their power was released just enough that each one shone gently in the hall. Kallias became shrouded in cold, white mist and his pale eyes seemed to sparkle, while Zayde beside him glowed with warmth that shimmered across her skin like sunlight on the sea.

The Morrigan stood and the symbol of their combined strength rose higher, shades of white and gold and black and red reflected in her eyes. It seemed to feel her presence and glowed brighter as she came to a halt between Thesan and Zayde.

"I am Morrigan," she breathed. "I am breeze, and young leaves and new birth."

As she spoke the elements seemed to answer her - Fiona watched a phantom breeze stir her golden hair. She smelled the grass and saw pale green stems unfurling on branches in her mind. The swirling circle of light reached Morrigan's shoulders and paused.

"I am sunlight and birdsong, freshly tilled soil and evening rain. I am Spring."

The rulers of Prythian spoke in one voice as they answered, "You are Spring. We see you."

There was a flash of bright light as the band - their blessing, Fiona realised - expanded and reached past them, encircling the lords and ladies in strands of pure light that weaved between their bodies. They flared once before shattering into a thousand glowing particles. Each one cast a tiny shimmer on those gathered, practically radiating with light and power.

A collective exhale rippled through the attendants. Fiona had almost forgot they were there until Feyre rolled her shoulders back as though waking from a trance.

"Finally," she sighed and turned back to Morrigan, who was still glowing dimly. Feyre spoke with a smile, and said simply. "Welcome to the club."