After Morrigan had been officially accepted as High Lady of the Spring Court, the hall erupted in celebration - a round of singing began, a ball was announced in her honour, and no one was seen without a glass of wine in hand. No one except Xander, of course.

Bella had hurried off for some family event, leaving Riordan and Fiona standing alone. Barely a moment passed between them before she glanced up at her cousin, pulling out her best puppy dog eyes. Riordan had muttered something about the mercy of females before leading her over to the Velarian Prince, standing alone in the Eastern corner. His hands were empty of food or drink, shoved into his pockets instead, and he leaned gracefully against the moonstone, as though he might be happy to perch there all night, watching the attendants squawk and cheer.

A glimmer of faint amusement flitted across his eyes as Riordan and Fiona approached.

"Really?" he chuckled. "Tonight?"

Dan rolled his eyes, but Fiona implored him. "I might not get the chance to go again."

"But you'll miss the celebration." Xander tipped his chin toward the revelry of the hall as a merry tune was struck by a small band of fiddlers. Fiona fixed him with a look that said she didn't care, and she knew he didn't either.

"You're welcome to come, but we'll have to stop off to meet some people on the way." he told her, kicking off from the wall. Fiona turned as Xander lead the pair of them down their usual quiet corridor, and locked eyes with Aidan from across the hall. His glare was a warning, a chill down her spine, but in a moment they took a turn and his face was blocked from view.

"That's fine." Fiona was all smiles as she turned away. "Who're we meeting?"

"My parents."

The joy fell out of Fiona's face. Riordan laughed so loudly that the sound was still echoing in her ears as the familiar blanket of night engulfed the trio and they winnowed away.

*

The River House turned out to be more of a manor than a house. It's clean white walls shone in the sunlight reflected from the Sidra, flowing by beside the grass slopes leading up to the property. Fiona's heart began to hammer in her chest as they ascended a garden path toward the front door. Blooming bushes of hydrangeas and triumphant chrysanthemums swayed in the sea breeze, carrying with it that familiar scent of citrus and salt. But the flowers and breeze did nothing to calm her nerves as Xander approached a grand set of cedar doors.

Riordan shot her a reassuring smile from over his shoulder. "It's ok," he told her, hanging back as Xander stepped inside. "They're not gonna eat you." he laughed. Fiona came to a halt on the doorstep, gritting her teeth.

"It's the Night Court," she grumbled. "You never know."

Riordan gave her another of his glowing grins and tugged her over the threshold. The sounds of the city dimmed to a quiet murmur behind them as Fiona walked into a cool white atrium. The floors were white marble, the walls lined with colossal paintings depicting beasts of all fang and tooth, the silhouettes of great black wings and, here and there, portraits of ethereal High Fae males and females. Their eyes twinkled with a lifelike gleam, the shape of their jaws and tilt of their noses familiar in their children. Their smiles were frozen but inviting, and they seemed to regard her with warmth from their lofty residence up high. As if welcoming her, drawing her in.

Fiona peeled her gaze away from the paintings as she heard a set of footsteps descend the grand marble staircase in the middle of the room.

"Fiona." Belladonna's grey eyes glowed warmly as she looked upon her friend. Fiona sagged with relief as the tall Illyrian pulled her into an embrace. "It's nice to see you here." She smiled and tossed her long sable hair over her shoulder. She'd never let it down before, hadn't let it out  of her usual tight set of braids, but Fiona thought it suited her.

"Nervous?"

She nodded, managing a meek smile as Bella laughed. "Come on." She gave Fiona a nudge, turning her toward an archway on their right. "There are some people you should meet."

Fiona's heart stilled. "Now that we've picked you up, can't we just-"

"Where are your courtly manners?" Bella smiled coyly. "We'll just have a drink and then we'll be off."

"But-"

"One drink, I promise."

Fiona opened her mouth to protest further, but the words died at the sight of a pair of great wings looming dark as the night beyond the archway. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court and most powerful ruler in history was leaning against the kitchen counter with a glass in his hand, his wings like a pair of deadly shadows at his back. Everything about his stance was casual, from the shifting of his weight to the crooked grin that spread across his handsome face as he noted the arrival of his son.

Xander broke into a smile so easy and broad that for a moment Fiona wasn't sure it belonged to him. The two males crashed into an embrace, smiling their wicked, knowing smiles. It was only then that Fiona really saw him. In the past week, she had met a careful, cunning fae with a quiet sense of strength and fearful power. Today, she met the High Lord's son. And he was truly the mirror image of his father, she thought. They shared the same wry twist to their lips, the same devastating beauty, their dark hair falling identically across their sun-kissed skin.

Xander's violet-blue eyes shone as he turned to introduce her.

"Father," he said, beckoning her closer. "This is Fiona. Fiona, this is Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court."

It was pride that made his words ring clear as a bell in the kitchen. Fiona curtsied but the High Lord laughed and pulled her to her feet. "There's no need for that." he said, his voice smooth as silk. Although Rhysand was the picture of decorum, Fiona saw those glowing eyes stutter with guarded interest at the sight of her. They glanced over her face, no doubt following the sharp tip of her nose, noting her auburn hair. Like so many others he was analysing her. Whose face did he see in hers, Fiona wondered. What threat had Rhysand deemed her capable of in the mere moments their eyes had met?

"It's an honour, High Lord." Fiona dipped her head graciously, trying her best not to betray the suspicion she'd seen in his gaze.

"And you already know Riordan." Fiona's brother presented himself with a respectful nod. Rhysand's gaze lingered on Fiona a moment too long before his smile widened.

"It's good to see you again, Prince of Daybreak," the High Lord chuckled. "You look more like your father every time we meet."

"It's the tan, my Lord." Dan's smile was dry.

"I think it's your eyes."

All heads turned as Feyre Cursebreaker entered the room. Her gaze, pale and bright, beheld her guests with warmth, snagging on Fiona for barely a heartbeat, just as her mate's had. She came to a halt beside Rhysand, every movement made with the dignity and grace of a High Lady. Feyre gave her son a peck on the cheek as Riordan and Fiona sketched a bow in tandem.

"You've got golden eyes, like the rising sun – like your father's." she added. Riordan glowed with pride, momentarily boyish as he beamed. "He still visits us often, you know." The High Lady continued pouring out a drink for her mate.

Dan cocked his head at an angle. "Really? His duties at the Day Court keep him so busy lately, I'm surprised he has the time."

Rhysand & Feyre shared a glance and something seemed to pass between them in the silence. The next moment Feyre was smiling warmly at her guests. "Would you like to stay for dinner? Bella's parents will be back before long, and we've always room for company."

Fiona was about to answer when a slam of the front door sounded another arrival. In walked a mass of blonde hair in a flowing red gown that billowed behind her like a crimson wave. The blonde marched straight for the kitchen counter and grabbed a bottle of red wine, slumping into the nearest chair with a huff. It was only when this new arrival lifted the bottle to her lips that Fiona recognised the Morrigan. Although her attire was the same as it had been at the moonstone palace, the female before her was another creature entirely – one who did not bother to stand on ceremony, who let her guard down amongst family.

She paused a moment from the wine to groan. "Gods, I hate them." Morrigan resumed her drinking as a slight flush crept over the High Lady's cheeks.

"I almost hope Spring's powers do pass to some Spring Court peasant," she growled. "Just so I never have to deal with the pleasantries of court again."

Rhysand pointedly cleared his throat. The Morrigan frowned and turned, as if noticing the newcomers for the first time. Her eyes travelled over Dan without pause for concern; when they landed on Fiona, however, she froze.

"What is this, an afterschool club?" she asked, her tone cutting. Rhysand chuckled behind her in the tension that had fallen.

"No, I'm serious." Morrigan's gaze was still locked on Fiona, who did her best to meet her molten brown eyes calmly. "Why is there a member of Eris' brood in our house?"

"Mor-"

She twisted to answer Feyre's incredulous stare with one of accusation. Xander moved from his father's side to stand next to Fiona, an act that dislodged something in her throat. She began to breath a little easier, but was surprised to find the High Lord's son glaring at Morrigan with equal ferocity, a challenge glinting in his gaze.

Feyre's eyes slid between Mor and Fiona. "They're our guests-"

"This is my home still, isn't it?" Morrigan cut her off and returned her focus to Fiona with withering intensity. With her mass of blonde hair she looked like a lioness, ready to pounce. "I want her out." Her tone was unfeeling, final.

Rhysand had been watching the exchange with a wary eye but now he too stepped in. As if feeling the breath he took to speak, Morrigan whirled to face him too. But Fiona had borne enough.

"No, please," she locked eyes with the High Lord. "It's fine. We had dinner plans anyway." Fiona glanced at Xander and saw something like regret in the twist of his lips. Regret that he's brought me here, she thought, to his home. Only to be kicked out by his family. A mixture of shame and fury made her throat burn as she turned for the door. Bella threw out a hand to catch her wrist but Fiona shot her a pleading look.

"Please," she repeated, firmer now. "I'd rather go." She almost added 'This has been humiliating enough'. But the cold, calm fury in the Morrigan's eyes made her think the better of it. She slipped out of Bella's grasp, her footsteps deafening in the silence of the marble hallway.

The burning feeling worked its way up to her eyes as she stepped outside, but oddly enough, Fiona didn't feel like crying. She was used to people suspecting her, had come to expect the wary stares, but what she hadn't seen before was fear. And it had been fear with which Morrigan beheld her. Shadows danced in her irises, blacker than black and decades old. Whatever Morrigan had seen, Fiona knew there was a longer story to be told.

"Oof!"

She grunted as she made contact with a hard pillar wrapped in leather. It was only when she looked up and smelled sweat that she realised it was an Illyrian. Deep hazel eyes blinked twice as Fiona mumbled an apology and stepped around him. She started a little as she noticed a smaller fae with sharp grey-blue eyes and a somewhat familiar face standing behind the broad man. She moved past this fae too, her face reddening as those steely eyes watched her go.

"Fiona!"

The next moment, Riordan was there, panting as he caught up. His eyes were filled with such concern that she might have hugged him, if Xander hadn't been right behind. Putting on her most convincing smile, Fiona spoke to him first. "I'm fine, it's fine."

Xander's brow furrowed, his eyes searching for something as Bella finally appeared.

"Honestly!" Fiona laughed. Taking a turn to rest her eyes on each of the fae that stood before her, she schooled the gleam in her eyes to one of calm content. "If one of you wouldn't mind taking me back – "

"Do you want to leave?" Xander's voice was clear but those eyes were dark as a stormy night.

Fiona faltered. "Well- no. But the Morrigan –"

"Oh, fuck that." Bella huffed. She marched forward, linking arms with Fiona and tugging her along the riverside. "Mor or no Mor, we are getting dinner!" she declared. Her red-headed friend laughed by her side as the boys shared a glance before following them toward the twinkling lights of Velaris.

~ Feyre POV ~

Helion's heir was barely a moment before he moved to follow the girl. Xander was close at his heels, though not without shooting Mor a glare as sharp as the silverware that gleamed on the table. Once the slam of the front door confirmed that Fiona had left the house, Morrigan returned to them. Her shoulders slumped in relief and she began to breathe again.

"Xander wouldn't have brought her here if he didn't trust her explicitly." Feyre's voice was quiet, her words careful. "You know that."

"Foxes don't belong in the house," was Morrigan's reply. Her gaze was cold as the Illyrian Steppes, almost blank as she added "He should know that." And with that, she grabbed another bottle of wine and headed upstairs. "I'm going to change."

Feyre and Rhysand shared a glance filled with concern, some for their friend and some from her. Rhys sighed deeply and moved to the counter, topping up his glass with a clear, amber liquor.

"It was so nice to see Xander relaxed - with people his own age." His mate sounded despondent.

"I know," Rhys answered. "But maybe Mor had a point."

He fielded Feyre's answering glare with a shrug. "Maybe she saw something in the girl that she couldn't trust." he explained, avoiding her raised eyebrow by taking a long sip from his glass.

"We both know that's not true." Feyre answered. Her gaze was trained on the hallway, as though she could still see the redhead standing there, her every freckle a warning. "Mor saw nothing but a ghost. A ghost that's probably been following the girl her whole life, the poor thing," she mused. "Mother above, even I was surprised to see her in our kitchen. But," she sighed. "I trust my son."

"Xander is nothing if not careful." Rhys agreed, shaking out a wing as if to stretch it. "Either way, we've just lost four for dinner."

"What happened?"

Another crash of the door announced the arrival of Nesta and Cassian, dressed in their leathers and smelling of sweat. One glance at Rhys, and Feyre knew they were thinking the same thing.

Either they were rolling around in the training ring, or on top of each other.

Feyre felt Rhys' grin down the mating bond. She took in her sister's hair, usually so perfectly braided in the coronet that was now sitting rather lopsidedly atop her head.

My bet is on each other, came her answer.

"We just saw Bella and the others storming out of here, looking like a pack of moody teenagers." Cassian folded his wings neatly as he sat down at one of the dining chairs, custom-carved for Illyrians. He swung his feet up onto the table as Feyre eyed his tousled hair. "I hope you're planning to shower before we eat."

Cassian opened his mouth to shoot back something smart, but Nesta answered for him. "He is." she said simply. Cas glanced at her, a spark of delight in his eyes, and Feyre wondered if she'd accidentally set them up for round two.

"About the kids," Rhys began rubbing his temples. "Bella and Xander brought home Helion's heir and a girl from the Autumn Court...Fiona, was it?"

Feyre nodded, giving Cassian a meaningful look. "Mor wasn't too happy. Said something about foxes and kicked her out." 

Cas looked pained, as though torn between feeling for his friend and his daughter. Nesta's eyes were cool, the colour of the sea on a stormy day as she picked at a chip on the table.

"Foxes have found a home here in the past." she pointed out.

"Yeah, but not one who sprung from that bastard," Cassian grunted. His frown deepened, as though he were struggling with the effort of not balling his hands into fists at the mention of Eris. 

Nesta shrugged. "In that court, only the mother knows who the girl sprung from. She could be Lucien's for all we know." she pondered, though Fiona shook her head with some certainty. "The point is," her sister continued. "If she's here then she can't exactly fit in all that well back there. And that's more than qualified lost busybodies for a place here in the past."

Feyre blinked in surprise. It wasn't like Nesta to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, let alone an outsider. Nesta stood, sighing. "If Eris holds the Court of Bastards, then you two sure as hell hold the Court of Misfits." She pointed a long finger at Rhys, who found it in himself to smirk. He shared a glance with his mate as Nesta made for the stairs.

"I'm going to get Mor," she called. "Sulking or not, I'm hungry."