Fiona awoke in the bathtub, naked and cold.

The water lay undisturbed and frigid against her skin. She lifted a hand to the light streaming in from the windows and found her fingertips like wrinkled prunes. Though despite the chill in her bones and stiffness in her neck, she arose feeling weightless, her mind clearer than it had been in quite some time. Outside the day was breaking, and birds flitted from one branch to another, twittering peacefully; war was a thousand miles away, and all she wanted to do was bake.

A few carefully aimed puffs of scalding hot air had her hair dry in no time, so Fiona crept around the house until she found the master bedroom, and a huge walk-in closet of dresses beside it. The knowledge that they all belonged to Mor unsettled her a little, but worse was the fact that each one fit her like a glove. Settling on a deep scarlet gown, Fiona tried to ignore the lingering scent of myrtle as she traipsed down to the kitchen to hunt for ingredients.

The pantry was well-stocked - she pulled out sacks of yeast and dough and salt as a field mouse scurried over her bare toes, disappearing beneath the cupboards. Fiona merely laughed, humming contentedly as she began to work, lighting the hearth with a snap of her fingers and summoning ingredients to her side.

Once she had assembled something like a meal, it was packed in a basket and slung on her arm as Fiona headed out to the stables. The black mare from the day before greeted her with a soft snort, tossing her head and clipping her hooves impatiently. Fiona led her out with a smile, whispering gentle encouragement to the filly as she swung herself atop and set them at a canter.

They were past the boundary of the estate in minutes, and soon emerged from the forest onto a well-worn path, racing through fields of heather and barley. She could hardly believe she was in the Night Court. 

Behind her, to the North and East, mountains loomed in the distance. But in the land surrounding Athelwood, ancient forests and rolling hills reigned supreme. Even the air here felt different - Fiona heard it singing in her ears as the hem of her dress snapped and played in the breeze, her hair flying with it as the mare whinnied happily beneath her.

Circling seagulls announced the arrival of the shoreline long before it came into view. Fiona slowed to a halt, slipping off her horse beneath fluffy white clouds, longing for the feel of grass beneath her feet and salty air on her cheeks. The cliffs she'd stumbled upon were empty for miles along both sides - she truly felt as though she might have been the only person in the world as she settled down for lunch, dangling her legs off the cliff edge.

Though her heart was light, Fiona found herself fighting not to remember the last time she was on a cliff, the last time she was facing this grey, roiling sea. 

What were they doing, right then - Keir and Aidan and all their minions? Did the streets still smoulder, had the docks fallen into the sea? Or was it all disconcertingly ordinary, just with darkbringers and Illyrians dancing through the Palaces instead of pixies and children.

Unconsciously, she glanced along the coast, half-expecting to see plumes of smoke from where Velaris sat hidden in the Sidran bay.

Again, Xander's face swam into view, and she wondered what it might be like to sever that bond between them. Males had been known to go mad - to fall into depressive states, to never truly recover, when rejected by a mate. It was a fate she wasn't sure she could endure, especially not if she was the one to gift it to him.

But the High Lord's image was followed by Scilla, and Bethan, then Eris, and her thoughts swerved in the other direction. What was one life in place of hundreds - thousands, even?

And then there was Hybern - that silent, hulking beast in the West.

How easy it is for Kings and Queens, Fiona thought. On a day as clear as this, she could just make out its silhouette, etched ever-so-faintly in the distance. Monarchs were so unlike High Lords and Ladies - confined by the rules of courts and traditions and hierarchy. 

The breeze tipped and tumbled over the cliff face, caressing her dangling shins and carrying her sigh high above the waves.

"Don't you know there's a war going on?"

Fiona practically jumped when Riordan strolled out from the heather with his usual lazy swagger. Shooting him her most withering glare, she answered, "I had just about forgot. Seriously Dan, I need to be alone. Who told you I was here?"

"Cassian." Dan's smirk was almost blinding in the sun. "He thought you might be spiralling."

Fiona crossed her arms. "I am not spiralling."

Riordan raised an eyebrow that needed no further explanation. "Get up," he said, simply.

"I haven't finished my picnic."

Her cousin peered over her shoulder at the basket by her side. "All that's left is the wine."

Fiona pouted. "That's the best bit."

Dan's smile widened. "You're getting more like your mother every day."

A roaring spurt of flames came lurching toward him. Narrowly dodging, the Prince of Daybreak laughed as he settled back on his feet, tipping his head to one side. "Now that you have the power and promise of an heir, I'm going to have to start treating you like one. Come on," he gestured lazily. "Let's talk it through together."

"Why do I have to stand for that?"

The words had hardly left her lips before a blast of hard air knocked her backwards, and sent her basket skittering off the cliff face and into the sea below.

Fiona let slip a low growl and pulled herself upright. "Fine. Let's talk it through," she declared, a fearsome glint in her eyes. "I think I should sever the bond between Xander and I, and take my place beside Eris."

She flinched as a beam of white-hot light speared towards her, scorching the side of her hip and singing away a patch of red velvet. Fiona looked up at him in outrage. "What the fuck, Dan!"

He shrugged. "I disagree." 

Another beam of light came shooting from his palm and forced her to duck and rolled aside. 

"Come on, this is a debate," Riordan groaned, almost sounding bored. "Fight back."

Fiona jumped back on her feet, gritting her teeth. "The prophecy-" she ground out, setting a circle of heather ablaze around her cousin. "-means we can't win without Eris' help. It's Prythian or Xander."

Dan watched the flames grow higher with the faintest spark of admiration before he flashed out of sight. The next moment he had materialised at her side, one hand on her hip, healing the burn wound. His eyes seared into her almost as viciously as his powers as he said, "I think there's a way that you can have both."

"I have to be High Lady," she said, shaking her head. The next moment the world went white, and she yelled out a string of obscenities as Dan's fist whistled through the air. 

She caught it just in time - hardly an inch before it sank into her stomach. Her sight returned in a blinking flurry as Riordan's face materialised before her, uncharacteristically solemn.

"And what about Queen?"

Fiona stilled. "What?"

"What about Queen?" Riordan drew his fist back, hovering in front of her. "You and Xander have three courts between you. You could accept your position as Eris' heir, hold Mor's crown hostage, and bluff your way onto a real throne to defeat Keir."

Fiona laughed - loudly. "You're not serious."

Her cousin raised an eyebrow. "Deadly."

She watched him for a moment, waiting for the punchline, for Dan to break out laughing at the look on her face. When he remained silent, she blinked at him in disbelief. 

"It would never work. What power does a self-appointed Queen have anyway? Prythian has seven courts, not two thrones." Fiona searched his expression, still looking for some hint of mirth in his gaze. "Not to mention we don't have the troops," she reasoned. "The other courts would resist, and we'd be fighting a war on two fronts."

"Zayde is linked to the Night Court by blood." Dan reminded her. "I'm sure she would accede if you established the right terms for the existing High Lords."

Fiona scoffed. "And what about your father?"

This seemed to warrant more serious consideration, as Riordan took a deep breath. "He wouldn't be happy," he decided. "But he loves his people more than his pride. He wouldn't risk a war to stand against you."

"Kallias would fight." She fired back, not sure why she was even entertaining such a preposterous notion in the first place. 

"Maybe. Maybe he'd side with Keir, and then you could take down two birds with one stone. Or maybe his son would convince him not to."

She flashed him a pleading look. "I'm not sure Baird would vouch for me much these days."

Her cousin studied her for some time. A pair of gulls flew in circles overhead, cawing softly as they watched their exchange from the safety of the currents above.

"You're young Fiona. The last six months have turned you from a wallflower into an heir." Dan's voice lowered, as he added softly, "With another six I tremble to think how great you could become."

Riordan took a deep breath and offered her an uncommonly earnest look. "I would have you as my Queen. I would trust you as a ruler, and I would do everything I could to get you there."

Fiona blinked at him in the daylight, wondering if she might still be asleep in the tub. "You've gone mad," she eventually declared, striding toward her horse. "I won't do it, and neither would Xander."

Dan's long legs carried him over as she swung up onto her saddle. "Just think about it,"

She whipped around, her eyes ablaze as she glared down at him. "No! Fiona marry Baird, Fiona marry Xander - Fiona, make a bid for all of Prythian?" Her mare huffed in protest as she gripped the reigns too tight. "Stop embroiling me in these plots, Dan. It's not what I want- it's never been what I want!"

"Then what do you want?" he asked her, golden eyes narrowing.

"I don't know!" she yelled. "But I came here to find out, and you've been nothing but a distraction. So please, leave me alone!"

In her peripheral, Fiona saw Dan lunge as if to grab the reigns and stop her. In an instant, a wall of flames leaped up before him and he tumbled back with a yell, clutching at his hand. She didn't have the heart to feel bad about it, didn't have the heart to put it out as the blaze crackled along the cliff, hungry and hellbent. So instead she dug her heels into her horse's flank and sped away, leaving Riordan in the heather as she rode off into the sun.

*

Evidently, her cousin had got the message, as she saw neither head nor tail of Dan once she returned to the quiet solitude of Athelwood. But though he was not there to pester her with propositions, his presence lingered in the the thoughts that shot rapid-fire through her mind.

It was ridiculous. Surely, someone as smart as Dan knew that - that a self-appointed monarch had no real power. Not without a throne, or the support of their subjects, which Fiona and Xander definitely did not have. Fae were proud creatures, and the High Lords of Prythian were no exception. To announce themselves King and Queen would be a surefire way to start another war, this time with the very allies they sought so desperately to keep.

No, Fiona shook her head, the floorboards creaking beneath her as she paced the upper floor. No, it wasn't an option.

Which left her with two choices - to refuse Eris and risk all their lives, according to the prophecy - or break it off with Xander, and risk herself. 

And what even was it? Fiona searched for that cord that lay between them, trying to imagine the male on the other end, feeling him faintly in the darkness. 

How would she go about it, she wondered? Could she do it now? She tugged experimentally on the bond, acknowledging its presence and wondering how on earth one broke such a thing. It did not feel fragile, just as the fae it connected were not fragile. It was like a cord of rope, coarse and thick and sturdy. 

The more she felt it the more she felt herself in its twisted bonds, felt Xander intertwined inextricably in it too. It did not feel like an accessory, but a further part of herself, protruding from her gut and woven into her very core. Fiona blanched as she imagined trying to tear it from herself - earlier, she had feared for Xander's mind, feared the stories of males not being the same after being rejected by their mates. Now she wondered how she might fare herself, if she could function without that part of her - if she even had the gall to do it in the first place.

Bella's voice echoed in her mind, followed by Riordan's. 

             You can't just decide to martyr yourself.

                                                           Then what do you want?

And maybe it made her weak and pathetic, maybe the hesitation was just her own selfishness given voice, but Fiona gave into that curious, nagging part of her. Grabbing a simple black cloak from her mother's closet, she was back on her horse in minutes, turning away from the path she'd taken that morning and heading deeper into the woods.

The canopy began to thicken above as the sounds of the wilderness took over. They quickly lost sight of any path or trail as the daylight began to dip beneath the branches, and shadows began to lengthen in the undergrowth. Fiona grew wary, twitching at every snapping branch for miles around. 

Eventually they reached a clearing, cut in half by a bubbling brook and curtained by willow trees whose leaves whispered over the grass in a hushed murmur.

"Alright," she mumbled, patting her horse as they pulled to a halt. "This will do."

Slipping off her mare, Fiona tied her reigns to a nearby tree. The mare snorted and tossed her head discontentedly as she retrieved the cloak bunched up beneath the saddle. Ignoring the flickers of movement in her peripheral, Fiona hummed to distract herself as she it gently on the ground beside the stream, positioning herself across the water with a bow and a small cluster of arrows in hand.

And then, she waited. 

...and waited. Until the sun had all but disappeared from the sky, and night began to creep in overhead. 

She waited so long that fear almost abandoned her, and the cacophony of woodland noises lost their edge. Soon she was so at ease with the distant calls of critter and creature that her eyelids began to droop, her head heavy where it rested against her hand. 

The moon was already high overhead when she started awake, eyes flying open at a sudden noise that had sounded close - too close. Fiona had to stifle a gasp when she looked up to find a pair of eerie, empty grey eyes staring back at her from the trees.

To her shock, the creature did not lunge at her from the shadows - no cold talons encircled her neck, no canines glinting from the dark. It only watched her with a curious expression, its hooded head cocked to one side. 

In the dark of night it was half-invisible, but Fiona could just make out a human-like silhouette, seated cross-legged across the bank. A subtle movement caught her eye as the light of the moon revealed long, bone-like fingertips protruding from a tattered old cloak, clicking against one another in a horrifying, spine-chilling rhythm.

"Fiona Vanserra."

The Suriel attempted a smile, a wicked, hollow thing. 

"Daughter of Fire and Truth." The creature lowered its head. "It is an honour, your grace."