The artwork above is not mine.

◦ ~ ❘ ☼ ❘ ~ ◦

Nascha leaned over her leather-bound notebook, writing a new story. Fenrys sat on the bed behind her, sharpening her duel bladed swords. "You should've mentioned how dull they were before," he muttered under his breath. "It's a wonder these blades can still deal damage."

Nascha took a sip of the whiskey Lysandra had given her the day before, then replied, "I never noticed they were dull. I took care of them the way Zeno taught me to, and that worked well enough. I'm sorry if my methods don't meet your standards."

"Your methods have never met my standards."

Nascha furrowed her brows and faced him, cocking her head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Fenrys glanced up with a lopsided grin. "You fight like someone who has lived on the streets for most of their life. Sloppy. Unrefined. Deadly. You've improved a lot since you started training with the Bane's novices."

Nascha rolled her eyes and went back to writing. "I'm lucky I learned to fight at all before Adarlan invaded. Mother never approved of females learning to fight, but our family has always had a warrior legacy. Every Makatza learned to fight, even her. My training began when I was ten."

"Four years before you were forced to flee."

Nascha nodded and took another swig of whiskey. "Zeno taught me what he could while we were on the run, but we soon learned that sometimes brutality counts more than technique. I fight to win. I don't care if I look good while doing it."

"You should care," Fenrys interrupted. "If you looked good while fighting, some of your enemies would surrender as soon as they saw you."

"Would they surrender out of fear or attraction?" Nascha scoffed.

"Both."

"Would you?"

His grin became a smirk. "Yes, and then we'd be doing a different kind of fighting, Sweetheart. One far more enjoyable. I can already think of a few moves I would want to teach you." Nascha refused to look at him. She drank more whiskey and blamed the warm, fluttery feeling in her stomach on it. "So easily excited," Fenrys chuckled. "So easily excited by me."

Nascha was saved from more of his comments by a knock at the door. Fenrys set her blades aside and left to answer it. Nascha blushed furiously and scribbled a few more lines into her story. She managed to hide her blush as Fenrys returned, accompanied by Elide. Nascha arched an eyebrow.

"Elide is going to stay with you while I attend to some of my duties," Fenrys explained. "Aelin might come by later, but I'm not certain."

Nascha feigned disinterest and took another drink. "All right."

Fenrys vanished from sight and Elide took a seat near Nascha. The room was silent, save for the scratch of Nascha's pen and the swish of whiskey in its bottle. Finally, Elide spoke. "I wanted to apologize for how Lorcan and I treated you in the village."

Nascha didn't look at her. "Did Fenrys put you up to this?"

"No, I genuinely mean it. I'm sorry about all of that. It must have been just as shocking to you as it was to us, and we acted like you were the one to blame. We even blamed Rayan and Eliora, although they had nothing to do with it. There is no one to blame but the group responsible."

"I'm glad you understand that." Nascha pursed her lips, studying Elide from the corner of her eye. "Lorcan refused to come, didn't he?"

Elide nodded with a tight lipped smile. "For two reasons. He didn't want to apologize, and he and Fenrys have been at odds with one another since your burnout."

"Why?"

"Territorial Fae bullshit, as Aelin likes to call it," Elide sighed.

"Territorial Fae bullshit," Nascha echoed. She laughed faintly. "I like that. But you mean, Fenrys was being territorial of me?"

"Yes. You were already falling asleep, so I'm sure you don't remember."

"I..." Nascha set her pen down and thought for a moment. "I remember him acting that way after I told him I needed to release my magic. He wouldn't let Lorcan near me. He..." Elide gave her a prompting look. "I think he actually threatened Lorcan."

"Fenrys threatened to gouge his eyes out."

"Really?"

Elide nodded. "Lorcan said he's never seen Fenrys so protective of anyone, except maybe Aelin."

"I see." Nascha lifted her pen once more, tucking the knowledge away. Perhaps she'd question Fenrys about his behavior later. Territorial fae bullshit, she laughed inwardly.

"I had a strange thought the other day," Elide said. "If things had been different, you and I could have become sisters-in-law."

"We could have."

"What was Zeno like?"

"He was the most lighthearted person in our family. He could be serious when necessary, but more often than not, he was cracking jokes or pulling pranks. He liked to spar with Father and Vandran. He was artistic too. He and Mother could spend hours making mosaics from..." Nascha trailed off.

Her thoughts shifted back to the mosaic situated above the bridge in Arcelia. It had been made from shattered glass. In fact, it... How had she not noticed it before? The mosaic must have been made by her mother and brother sometime before Adarlan's invasion. No one else could have depicted her family so accurately. Their people had likely found it and put it to use.

"Nascha?" Elide called.

She blinked rapidly, ignoring the stinging in her eyes. "Sorry." She offered no further explanation, but took another long drink and resumed writing. Elide sat silently beside her.

Almost half an hour later, there was another knock at the door. Nascha heard it open before she had a chance to answer it. "Fenrys?" Aelin called.

"Fenrys isn't here," Nascha replied. "It's just me and Elide."

Aelin strode into the bedroom and sat down beside Elide. "You like to write?" The Queen asked, pointing to Nascha's notebook.

"Yes. It's how I process things," Nascha replied. "I take events that happened during the day and retell them in the form of a story."

"Interesting. I've written a few strongly worded letters in my time, and I love to read. I think I've read every book in the palace library already."

"Speaking of libraries, I promised Lysandra I'd help her and Evangeline work on theirs today," Elide said. She rose and gave Nascha and Aelin each a nod. "I'll see you both later."

Nascha didn't speak until she heard the front door open and close behind the Lady of Perranth. She closed her notebook and pushed it aside, then corked her whiskey. "You got Lysandra's gift." Aelin tipped her head towards the bottle.

"Why are you here?" Nascha asked sharply. "I thought you weren't interested in being my friend anymore. Have you come to threaten me again? To force me to become Lady of Arcelia?"

Fire snapped through Aelin's eyes before she managed to school her features. "No, I'm not here for any of those reasons."

"Then why?"

"I came to apologize."

Nascha barked a wry laugh. "Lysandra apologized on Aedion's behalf. Elide apologized for herself and Lorcan. Now you. I know Fenrys convinced you all to do this. Don't bother. I don't want an empty apology, least of all from you, your Majesty."

"Rutting hell," Aelin growled. "Fenrys warned me how infuriating you can be."

"Only to those I don't like. Fenrys and I have started to move past that stage." They had begun moving beyond it weeks ago, if she was being completely honest. Ever since their trip to Arcelia.

"Fine. Be that way, if you like. I'll say my piece and leave. I apologize for informing you the way I did and for losing my temper. The attack shook me more than I care to admit. I couldn't bear to think that those deaths were on my hands, so I tried to put them on yours. That was wrong of me. You had no more control over the situation than I did. I shouldn't have taken my emotions out on you."

Nascha waited as Aelin continued. "But the fact remains that despite how you feel about the matter, you are your family's sole surviving heir. You are the unproclaimed Lady of Arcelia. Your people are demanding your return. The Tarins are refusing every counter offer I give them. They want you, or they want war. I can't just give them the Anascauls and their independence without severely weakening Terrasen, and my own reputation."

"Whether you like it or not, you have a decision to make. Take your place and help me prevent a war, or do nothing and watch the battle unfold. You have just four months left to change your mind." Aelin crossed her arms, apparently finished.

"The attack surprised all of us," Nascha said. Her voice was low and flat. Cold. "And your Court's reaction destroyed any desire I once had to join you. I appreciate the apologies, but I can't forgive anyone just yet. I certainly can't become the Lady of Arcelia, and my answer there will never change."

"Why?"

Nascha narrowed her eyes and chucked her notebook at Aelin. The female caught it with a glare. "There is one poem in that entire notebook. Blood of the Night. Read it."

Aelin leafed through the notebook for several silent, tense minutes. She finally reached the poem and began to read. Nascha grabbed her bottle of whiskey and took several mouthfuls. She'd never let anyone read any of her work before. Not a single story. And yet, she was letting Aelin read the only poem she'd ever written. The one work that spoke of the darkest secrets and most painful memories locked within her heart.

Aelin glanced at her briefly, but said nothing. She read more. Looked at Nascha again. Carried on. She soon set the notebook aside and caught Nascha's gaze. There was a raw edge to Aelin's voice as she said, "I know how you feel."

"Do you really?"

Aelin nodded. "Everyone in this Court has shared those feelings. That despair. Those inclinations. We worked through it in different ways. You don't want to know what I did to survive. I've done things far worse than you can imagine. Probably far worse than some of the things Rowan, Lorcan, Fenrys, Vaughan, or anyone else who formerly served Maeve ever did. But if I can change, so can you. I went from an assassin to a Queen. You can go from an orphan to a Lady." Aelin stood, closing the notebook. She handed it back to Nascha. "You're not alone anymore. Try to remember that."

Nascha gave no response as Aelin left the room. She didn't hear the door open. Of course, Nascha thought. I can't be left unsupervised. At least she's giving me some space. She resumed writing while her mind replayed Aelin's words over and over again.