The next morning, the townhouse presented Fiona with a somewhat familiar scene. Pale rays of early morning light cut through spiralling columns of dust in the air, and though she made every effort to descend the stairs quietly, Xander, of course, was never one to be taken by surprise. Upon entering the dining room, she discovered him seated at the head of the table, a piece of toast laden with scrambled egg in hand. The vague amusement in his smile told her all she needed to know; that he had heard all her attempts to be painfully silent from the moment she awoke - and enjoyed them thoroughly.

"Good morning." Fiona slid into the seat next to him, trying not to eye up his eggs too greedily.

Xander's smile softened. "Morning."  He set his toast down and cut it in half, offering her the other piece. Fiona grew flustered. "Oh, I didn't mean to-"

"You were looking at it like you hadn't seen food in years," he chuckled. "Go on. Eat." Fiona took the toast with a bashful smile as he added, "It's your bread anyway."

"Oh!" she mumbled through a mouthful of eggs. "Do you like it?"

Xander nodded, resisting a grin. "It's delicious. Only I don't know how we'll ever manage to eat it all - you made so much."

Fiona shrugged, still preoccupied with her toast. "You kept me waiting a long time."

A dark eyebrow lifted, accompanied by a twisted smirk. "Apologies, my lady." His tone was mocking, but beneath it lay an ounce of sincerity which announced itself in the hand he inched towards her. "It won't happen again," he promised, stroking a thumb across her knuckles.

A moment passed where the pair of them found the nerve to make eye contact once or twice while Fiona fought an urge to smack herself. 

Gods, Dan was right, she thought miserably. 'Gazing longingly' really is our fourth base.

Fortunately, she was saved another minute of sheepish conversation when Cassian announced himself by stomping through the front door, Amren and Nesta in tow. 

"Xander!" he bellowed, grinning wide enough to tell them he'd caught the Prince snatching his hand beneath the table as they entered. Though evidently there did exist some mercy in the world, as he made no comment while the others were seated. "How's your side doing?" asked the General. "Azriel said you were quite torn up last night."

"I'm fine, thank you." Xander answered, that composed but absent look returning to his gaze. "It really wasn't all that serious."

"I heard otherwise," sung Feyre, breezing into the room with her usual grace. She planted a peck on her son's cheek as Nyx and Rhysand appeared behind her. "But I'm relieved to see it was taken care of." She cast a furtive but grateful glance at Fiona, who had the good sense not to blush.

Mother above, she groaned internally. What happened to 'keeping private matters private' in the Night Court?

"Is everyone here?" Rhysand's gaze swept across the room as his court found their seats. As if on cue, Riordan stumbled in, sweaty and glowering beside Belladonna, who was grinning ear to ear.

"Apologies for our tardiness, my Lord," growled Riordan, moving to lean against the back wall as he shot Bella a vicious glare. "Your niece decided I was in need of an early morning workout."

The ghost of a smile twitched at Rhys' lips, but he nodded as the newcomers settled down. "Thank you all for coming. After yesterday's missions it seems clear that court relations have become a tad strained with some of our fellow Lords, namely Autumn." His jaw clenched and he flexed one fist atop the table. "And at the epicentre of all this, is Keir."

"Xander and Azriel returned to the Forest House last night and confirmed that our dear steward visited Eris once again." Rhys glanced over his shoulder - Fiona hadn't noticed him before, but Azriel was standing at his wing, stoic as ever as he moved in and out of shadow in the flickering morning light. "So, either Eris was lying to us, or the interrogation had the opposite effect." Rhys sighed. "Either way, the result is the same. We can no longer reach for Eris to uncover this mess."

"But we can talk to Keir." Xander suggested, though his father was already shaking his head.

"Confronting him is just as inadvisable," Nyx countered, casting a disapproving glance across the table at his brother. "It would blow the whole thing wide open." 

"We should be trying to tackle this delicately, figure out what Keir's planting without setting it off," agreed Rhys.

"But no one who knows anything will talk to us." Xander leaned forward across the table. "We don't have much choice."

"Perhaps not," the High Lord shared a look with his mate. "But we do have allies - and as a court, we remain strong. I'll be removing the old city wards and improving them with Amren and Feyre today." His gaze returned to his son with steely resolve. "So no one is going to talk to Keir or give anything away."

Xander sat back in his chair but said nothing as the conversation flowed past him. 

"I went back to the Steppes yesterday." Belladonna looked to her High Lord, uncharacteristically severe. "I visited Devlon, Brennus and some of my old training mates. The discontent has grown among them, the females are no longer training, and some of the younger ones are-"

"The Blood Rite takes place in two days time." Cassian interrupted, much to his daughter's irritation. "Tension is to be expected this time of year."

Bella turned to Rhys, imploring him to listen. "It's more than that."

"We'll put them back in line after the Rite."

Grey eyes flashed at the Lord General. "They don't need another show of strength," she insisted. "They need to be reminded of the Illyrian blood in the Night Court. They need to remember we have a right to rule them, that we're not just fae overlords."

Rhys looked contemplatively between father and daughter until Nesta broke the silence. "Why don't you both go together to inspect the camps?" She hovered above Cassian and Bella with a hand on each shoulder. "Tristan will have completed the Rite by then, it'll be a perfect time to reconnect with the warbands."

Bella tipped her head up defiantly at her father, who chuckled. "Alright," he caved. "That sounds reasonable enough to me."

"Good." Rhys agreed, nodding. "Then that's settled. Feyre, Amren, if you'll come with me we can get started on the wards."

The rest of the family rose from their seats, tense snippets of conversation floating around the room as they bustled out of the house. Moments later Fiona was left with just Gabriel, Riordan and Xander.

"Bella," he called, catching the Illyrian just before she headed out into the foyer. "Come here." 

She turned expectantly, eyes roving curiously over the group assembled at the table. "What's this?" she cooed, teasing him despite knowing, as Fiona was quite sure she knew too, what was coming next.

"We're going back." Xander declared, raising his chin a little as though daring them to challenge him. "We're going back to the Hewn City to get the truth out of Keir once and for all - through whatever means necessary."

Bella's eyes lit up with dangerous delight. "Does that mean we're bringing weapons?"

The corner of Xander's lips twitched in a half-smile. "Yes, Bella. That means we're bringing weapons." He shifted to cast his gaze over the others. "But it's imperative we stay on our best behaviour, full Nightmare Court style. My father was right about one thing - right now, we're completely in the dark. Keir has the upper hand, and we cannot let him realise it."

"I assume I'm staying here then?" asked Fiona, her lips pursed.

Xander raised an eyebrow. "No. Why would you be?"

"Keir can't see me." she frowned. "He'll run straight back to Eris with another bargaining chip."

"There's a good chance he already knows you're here, Fiona." Riordan pointed out. "Why else would he have gone back to Eris with a proposal he'd already dismissed?"

Xander was nodding. "That's a big part of our mission down there. We need to find out what Keir knows, and what he's told Eris, need to understand just how serious a threat your uncle poses."

Fiona considered them in the space of a long, calculated breath. "Ok. So a glamour then."

"No point," Bella answered, shaking her head. "Keir the Morrigan's father - where do you think she got her gift for Truth?" When Fiona remained bewildered, the Illyrian rephrased the sentiment a little more plainly. "He can see through glamours."

"So why don't you just leave me here?" Fiona was pinching the bridge of her nose, brows tightly knotted together. "I don't understand why you'd risk showing your hand just to find out if Keir has the same cards."

"We need you down there." Xander answered. He began tracing the cracks on the old wood with one finger, his gaze tracking the aged lines on the table. "You know how to get information out of someone, and you know how to tell what they're hiding."

Her lips were already parted to protest when Riordan cut in, nodding. "It's true, Fiona. All those years by Eris' side have given you a sharp pair of eyes for interrogation." He offered her a little smirk. "Growing up in the Forest House had to have been good for something."

Still unconvinced, Fiona merely huffed her disapproval. But when she voiced no further complaints, Xander stood from his chair, fingertips splayed against the table. "If we're all agreed, then let's start preparing. We leave in half an hour."

He gave them a curt nod before making for the stairs. Fiona had the impression that he could feel her gaze on his retreating figure but refused to acknowledge it, refused to acknowledge that little tug she sent between them.

"Well, I have an entirely different motivation for wanting you on this mission."

She turned back to find Bella smiling sweetly across the table with a familiar glint in her eye. Fiona sighed. "Why do I get the sense that this can only be dress-related?"

Her friend broke into a wicked grin. "Because it is dress-related." She grabbed her wrist and tugged the younger fae to her feet. "Come on. I have the perfect little number in mind."

*

Nuala and Cerridwen were already in the attic room when she returned, waiting to work their magic despite the absurd time constraint, dabbing blush and lip stain with special care. Fiona liked to imagine that they worked so efficiently as thanks for all her baking, but in truth, they were always this silent and dutiful.

The dress Bella brought up was her most daring attempt yet. Though it was made of a beautiful, olive-coloured satin that played tricks with the light, when it unravelled Fiona sent a silent prayer to Mother for modesty and shame. It was almost totally backless, the cowl neckline and thin satin straps at the front all in service of leaving her pale, freckled skin on show behind, pooling at the base of her spine, hardly an inch above the obscene. 

Fiona watched it move in the mirror, swearing aloud when she realised there were also a pair of matching thigh-high slits on either side. But the moment she sat in it, the wraith twins immediately got back to work on her hair, and she didn't have the heart to interrupt them, and spend precious minutes finding an alternative.

Besides - the more she gazed at herself in the mirror, the more she felt her timidity melt away into something a tad more foreign but nonetheless welcome. 

Power. 

As the twins added piece after piece to her ensemble, the gentle tilt of her auburn hair brushing pale green silk, the dark liner around her hazel eyes, she felt far less pretentious than she had at the Spring Solstice, and far more prepared than she had on her first visit to the Hewn City. This time she would not be going as someone's escort, or a server in disguise. This time she would be going as Fiona.

This was the Fiona who trained atop the House of Wind and danced with spirits in the City of Starlight. This was the Fiona who took her fate into her own hands and did not accept anything, or anyone less than she was worth.

And it was this Fiona who returned to the foyer, descending the staircase with silk panels flowing between her bare legs, head held high, and fighting the urge to cringe. At least, until Xander emerged from the kitchen.

The both of them stopped dead in their tracks, the flow of time slowing to a drip as two sets of eyes roamed over one another unashamedly. She felt rather than saw his gaze catch at her legs, the exposed thigh and soft satin cloaking her figure, just the same way that hers stopped at the top few buttons of his black silk shirt, undone and also her undoing. For underneath his smart, starched collar lurked those delicate black vines she had spotted last night, twisting around his collarbones like climbing ivy. The memory suddenly resurfaced, as did the feeling of his arm wrapped around her waist, his grunt as he shifted her onto lap, the taste of blood-

It made her toes curl.

But for better or worse, Xander had picked a crew with both impeccable taste and timing; moments later Gabriel, Bella and Riordan arrived and saved them both the embarrassment of attempting to speak to one another. Though the distraction of their company wasn't quite enough to keep her from staring. Wrapped in the midnight blue of his jacket, she found herself imagining the corded muscle that lay beneath as Xander twisted, fiddling with his cufflinks. 

When the Prince looked up, the weight of his gaze nearly knocked the breath from her.

"Are we ready?" he asked, turning his attention to the ensemble gathered in the foyer. His friends and family stood before him in a semicircle, swathed in shadow and silk and armed to the teeth beneath their finery. They all looked smart – Riordan leaned against the coatrack with smug satisfaction in his ruffled shirt, and even Gabriel stood straighter in his suit, the dark tone of his wings matching the fabric. But it was Belladonna who surprised her the most.

Fiona had become accustomed to seeing the daughter of the Lord General in tight, practical braids and combat leathers. Never had she thought she might see her friend as she looked tonight, toweringly tall and powerful, her grey eyes pale against a line of smudged kohl above her lashes. Her gown was resplendent in deep purple, the length of which covered every inch of her skin until it reached her legs, where a high slit exposed a single golden thigh. When she shifted her weight, Fiona could just about see the tip of a sheath strapped to her hip – but as she stood now, lethal in her beauty, long hair tumbling down her shoulders like a blanket of night, Fiona doubted anyone would be paying much attention to the knife.

Bella caught her eye and let a feline smirk spread across her painted lips. "Look all you like, Vanserra," she purred, her heels clapping on the floorboards as she closed the gap between them. "You always did like to stare." Her steely eyes flashed a challenge as she looked down her chin and smiled.

Fiona's cheeks grew hot.

"Play nice, Belladonna," Riordan chuckled from his spot beside the door.

Bella cocked her head at an angle that was hard to describe as anything other than predatory. Fiona wasn't sure if she wanted to look away or lean in, but she was grateful for the intrusion when Xander appeared by her side.

Gently guiding her behind him, she didn't miss the stiffness of his grip as violet met grey in a cold stare. In her heels, Bella was almost taller than the Prince, though the wings looming at her back certainly worked in her favour. 

Xander's jaw clenched. "I asked if we were ready."

Bella looked between the pair of them with something like satisfaction, her gaze lingering on the hand resting at Fiona's elbow. She grunted a laugh. "Don't clip my wings just 'cos you're afraid to fly."

"How about we get started, and nobody clips anyone's wings?" Gabriel suggested, rolling a shoulder as his brown eyes darkened. "We're here for a mission. Get serious, guys."

"Oh, I'm deadly serious," Bella grinned. "No better way to prepare for the Court of Nightmares than a little flirt." She stepped towards Riordan, his hand outstretched to her as golden light began to glow around his person. The Illyrian offered Fiona a wink as they faded from view, a silvery laugh echoing in her absence.

Xander seemed reluctant to move from her side, so, still blushing, Fiona made for Gabriel.

"We'll meet you outside the throne room?" she proposed, trying to sound as though her throat wasn't closing up. Xander didn't meet her eye, but nodded, and before she could stare any more at the twisting tattoo peeking out beneath his shirt, the townhouse spun away in a deep red blur.