CHAPTER NINE

WIND AND SNOW

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

     REN WAS HALFWAY through the thickest book in his stack when Rhysand started his tricks.

He should've expected it, especially considering how quickly he was going through the thickest book. Ren was sure to win their little bet, if only Rhysand wasn't set on distracting him every moment he even thought about picking up his book. He didn't know how Rhysand even knew. Ren had his mental shields up always, and he would've sensed if Rhysand had slipped through, if he was looking through Ren's own eyes. Ren had a sneaking suspicion the shadow twins under Azriel's command were the culprits. They were so kind that Ren didn't have the heart to confront them about it, especially since they always had pastries waiting for him at breakfast. Ren had to eventually resort to taking his book with him to the table, reading as he ate. That didn't stop all of Rhysand's antics, but it did stop most of them. Rhysand couldn't bother him if he was eating, too. It even got to the point that Ren was reading in Lady Briella's presence. He would've been ashamed of it if he wasn't so stubborn.

"Honestly, Ren," Briella sighed on such a morning, putting her teacup down so hard that the saucer rattled. Ren looked up sharply, blinking rapidly at her. He was shocked to see that her plate was empty. His own was still full, and his tea had gone cold. He opened his mouth to apologize for his rudeness—before he went right back to reading—before Briella's glare made his mouth snap shut. "You would think you were raised by water-wraiths. Why are you reading at the table?"

"Because your son won't give me peace to read anywhere else," Ren said honestly, and only realized he had just tattled to Rhysand's mother when he felt a curious tug in his mind. Rhysand had felt Ren's annoyance toward him, had sensed it was voiced, and now he was curious. Ren let him see, just to slam him right back out when Rhysand chuckled and simply said, Traitor. Ren found himself scowling, even as Briella frowned curiously at him, nursing a fresh cup of steaming tea. Shaking his head, Ren gently closed the large book in his lap, marking his page with a small piece of ribbon, before setting it off to the side. "I apologize," Ren said, a bit more embarrassed now. "Really, I did not mean to be rude. I just...forgive me, but your son is annoying." Briella snorted, her lips twitching, and then she broke into bright laughter.

"Cerridwen, be a dear and reheat Ren's food for him," Briella said through her chuckles, sipping at her tea. Ren was red in the cheeks by then, and thanked Cerridwen with a small mumble after she waved her hand over his plate and cup. Steam immediately rose up from his tea and food, and he picked up his fork, clearing his throat self-consciously. Briella saw his blush and sobered a bit, though she was still smiling. "Oh, Ren, I am not laughing at you, sweetheart. I just find this all so endearing. My son likes to play, and it warms my heart to see him do so. To see you play as well, it..." Briella tilted her head in thought, her long dark hair falling past her shoulder. "It is a relief." Ren smiled to himself, but didn't respond, his mouth full with fruit. Briella folded her hands together, resting them on the table in front of her. Ren hadn't even seen either of the shadow twins come to take her empty plate away. "Tell me, my sweet, why will he not leave you be? It is not in Rhys's nature to interrupt a hobby his friend enjoys, unless he has an ulterior motive."

Ren sighed, taking a sip of his tea before he responded. "I made the mistake of making a deal with him. Not a bargain—not a Night Court one—just something for fun. We were in the library, and I perhaps picked more books than necessary. He thought I couldn't finish them all in a week." Ren scowled then. "Now he is making sure I won't." Briella hummed, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

"Even with unofficial deals, my dear, you always must be careful with your language. Nothing says he wasn't allowed to distract you." Ren scowled even harder. She was right, of course, and Ren had realized that by himself the second day Rhysand had bothered him. "What does the winner get?"

"Whoever loses has to do whatever the winner wants, within reason," Ren grumbled, setting his chin in his palm as he ate some more fruit, then some of the sausage steaming on his plate. He glanced up at Briella through his lashes. "Rhys will not make me do something outrageous, will he?" She smiled at him, fresh laughter in her throat, ready to burst out. She was finding too much amusement in this. Just like Ren's mother, Lillian, would have.

"Outrageous, yes," Briella said, chuckling. "Nothing that will make you uncomfortable, though. He wants you to have fun, I think." Ren hummed and continued eating his breakfast, though he felt hot, especially around his ears.

"And," Ren said hesitantly, shifting in his seat, "have I proven myself to your mate yet?" Briella's expression shuttered for a moment, darkening. Ren regretted asking her about his place in the Night Court, but he was growing angrier around the Court of Nightmares denizens every day, and he was afraid he couldn't control that anger much longer. Seeing all the abuse that happened there, so casually, the lack of remorse and the cruelty, it was gnawing at him. "I'm sorry, it's just...this place. Not this palace—it's beautiful—but the people here. Keir and Orpheus, the things I've heard people say about Mor, about Rhys, about Cassian and Azriel. Can't I just go back to Windhaven?" Briella's dark expression cracked then, just for mild amusement to take its place.

"You might be the only being in the world to prefer Windhaven over the Moonstone Palace," she said dryly, sipping more of her tea. Nuala ducked in then, putting more tea in both of their cups without asking before flitting away. Cerridwen came by right after and plopped a tray of fresh pastries, still hot from the kitchen, on their table. Ren murmured a thank you to her retreating back, and got a waved hand over her shoulder in response. It made him smile to see servants act so casually with him. He couldn't remember the last time anyone was so comfortable about him in the Spring Court. He'd attempted to make friends with some sentries, and he thought he'd succeeded, but they were quick to flee for their own safety when they felt danger near.

"I told you," Ren said eventually, "it's not the palace that's the problem. And no one bothered me in Windhaven. I got dirty looks, but it seemed like you and your son were enough to keep everyone away from me. Jerrod's spies have probably already reported that I'm gone. I doubt they'd check there again."

"It's not that simple," Briella said gently, and even though Ren knew that perfectly well, he still sighed and slumped back in his chair. Briella leaned forward and stretched her arm across the table, leaving her hand open, palm toward the sky. Ren smiled slightly and reached to take it, letting her squeeze his hand in a gesture that reminded him of his mother. His throat tightened. He missed his parents; he wished he could see them again. "The fact you weren't taken to the Night Court until you left the Spring Court helps matters—they cannot claim Night Court stole you right from under Jerrod's nose—but the problem still remains that you are married. According to Azriel's spies, no one knows that you left of your own free will. I'm assuming your run-in with the sentries in the Illyrian Mountains was either kept secret, or your exact words and actions weren't shared." Ren blinked slowly, tilting his head in thought.

"Wait," he said, frowning. "Are you saying that...that Jerrod actually believes I was stolen?" Briella squeezed his hand one more time, then brought it back to pluck a warm muffin off the tray. It was a confirmation, judging from the small shake of her head as she ate the muffin, as if she too thought it was absolutely ridiculous.

"If he doesn't," Briella finally said, "then he's doing a fantastic job making everyone believe that he does."

"But he chased me," Ren blurted out, his chest tightening in panic. "He chased me through the woods when I was leaving. He shouted for me to stop, to come back to him. He knew that I was running. What, does he think someone was making me do that?" Ren shook his head wildly, and his fingers turned into claws against the armrests of his chair, nails scraping against the wood. "If that's the story he's telling, that he's believing, then he might get enough support to—"

"We will not let anything happen to you," Briella said firmly, her voice going hard. Ren snapped his mouth shut. His mouth felt dry, but he couldn't bring himself to sip at his tea. His throat felt too tight. "No one enters the Hewn City without permission, without us knowing. This is one of the safest places for you. And to answer your question from earlier—no, you haven't proven yourself to my mate. Not yet, at least. Just be patient, Ren." Briella nodded toward the thick book he had placed on the table, now shut and marked with a black ribbon. "I know you're restless, but at least you have that to keep you busy."

"Which I desperately need to get back to, just so Rhys doesn't have the satisfaction of winning this bet," Ren grumbled, reaching for the book in question. He shot Briella a tentative smile, though, as he hesitated to rise from his seat. Briella snorted and waved her hand at him in dismissal. Ren had cracked the book back open before he was even halfway out of the room.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Rhysand is such a prick. He asked you to do this, didn't he?" Ren grumbled a few days later, following Mor down a dark hallway as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. She had brought the shirt to him, the material sheer and black, glittering under the balls of light floating up toward the ceiling. The cuffs clung to his wrists, and they felt mildly suffocating, though the shirt itself was blessedly cool. Sometimes, the Court of Nightmares was so hot from the many fires roaring that he found himself suffocating in his clothes. His pants were as stifling as ever when it came to heat, but at least his shirt allowed him to breathe. Ren found himself envying Mor's red, revealing dress as they continued walking, if only because the heat wouldn't be torturing her so much. "And why is it so hot down here?"

"Because we're in snowcapped mountains, sweet," Mor said with a snort, clearly amused by all of this, even as she stiffened more and more the closer they got to the main hall where all the parties were thrown. Where the throne was for Lachlan, though he wouldn't be overseeing the festivities tonight. It was why Mor was there, to keep an eye on things, though she seemed to absolutely hate it. "It's always cold here, even in warmer months, so the Hewn City and the Moonstone Palace above are spelled to keep everyone warm. Is it cold in the Dawn Court?"

"Yes," Ren admitted with a slight grimace. "It gets warm, of course, but there's always a slight breeze to cool everyone off, and all the buildings are open to the elements. We don't usually spell any buildings to stay warm or cold; the weather never gets so severe that we need to resort to it. It took me nearly a year to get used to constant spring." He tugged at the cuffs of his shirt again, then huffed and settled his hands into his pants pocket, just to keep from tugging them. "It wouldn't be so bad if the Hewn City was open, like the palace. It's so stifling down here."

"You have no idea," Mor murmured, and then she stopped and tugged Ren quickly into an alcove, so dark Ren had to blink as his eyes adjusted. Mor was adjusting his shirt, then reaching up to quickly fix his hair, muttering something about Ren rushing his appearance tonight. Ren scowled at her, but she just tapped her hand lightly against his cheek. "Honestly? Yes, Rhys did tell me to bring you to this...gathering, but I also didn't want to go alone. Can you blame me?" Ren softened, his scowl disappearing as he sighed. He peered out of the alcove, but the hallway remained empty, oddly silent.

"What, exactly, is happening tonight?" Ren asked with a frown. Mor wasn't technically required to attend, especially since she was no longer in her family's grasp. She only did so because it reminded the people of the Hewn City that the heir was always watching. They all seemed to be more terrified of Rhysand than they were his father, though his daemati abilities likely had much to do with it.

"Nothing unusual for this place," Mor sighed, nudging him back out of the alcove. She slipped her arm through his and settled her face into a carefully crafted, bored mask. Ren followed her example. His time attending Spring Court parties and dinners had taught him how to mask his own expressions far before he even knew he would run. "But I've gotten word that my family will be attending, and..." A slight shiver went through her, and Ren patted her arm around his, the only bit of comfort he could offer as they kept walking. "Just stay by me tonight. Two hours, at least, and then we can go, and you can continue with that bet you're losing."

"I wouldn't be losing if Rhysand minded his business—"

"My cousin never minds his business. You should already know that," Mor said with an amused smile, and then she tucked herself into Ren's side and lifted her chin haughtily. "Be my shield tonight and I will buy you whatever books you want. I will buy you an entire bookstore."

"Bribes aren't necessary, but I appreciate it," Ren murmured quietly to her, raising his chin in a similar manner, and then they were walking through the last bit of shadow and stepping into the party itself. The music was so loud tonight that no one would've heard their banter as they arrived, and since neither of them was a High Lord or the heir, they garnered very little attention aside from slight sneers. Ren could see that it was a wild and dark night, though. Powers were soaring through the air, elemental powers that formed into monsters as they fought each other. The monsters resembled the ones carved into the walls and pillars of the Hewn City. The servants were tucked away in dark alcoves, to be neither seen nor heard.

Mor put slight pressure on Ren's arm, guiding him to the left side of the large courtroom without anyone noticing. Ren followed her without a fuss, figuring she knew where she was going. He was only there for moral support, it seemed, not that he minded. He liked Mor quite a lot, and he was admittedly losing his bet, anyway. This was his last day, and though he'd managed to finish all the books but one, his head was pounding and his eyes felt tired. Rhysand would be smug about winning, but Ren could ignore him just fine if he wanted. Ren reached out to a small table of drinks as he passed and plucked up two slim chutes of wine, pressing one into Mor's hand. Neither of them actually drank any of it—it was no secret that the drinks were much stronger when Lachlan was away, strong enough to erase memories of the night entirely—but it helped them both to have something in their hands.

Mor paused then, her steps halting very briefly before she continued, but it caught Ren's attention. He followed her narrowed gaze to the dais at the head of the large room, and saw with slight shock that Keir was sitting on top of it. He wasn't sitting in Lachlan's throne—even he wasn't as stupid as that—but he'd had another chair placed up there beside it. Ren didn't know what he was thinking. Lachlan didn't strike Ren as the type to take any slight lightly.

"He should not be sitting up there," Mor hissed under her breath, more to herself than to him. Ren pressed closer against her anyway, squeezing slightly at her arm as he steered her toward a small couch pushed against the wall. With a flick of his hand, he sent the High Fae lounging there scattering.

"Let him dig his own grave," Ren murmured back to her, letting her sit down first before he sat down beside her. He swirled the sparkling wine around in his glass, then tilted the rim in Mor's direction, like he was toasting at her. "Just two hours, remember? Then we can go." Mor pursed her lips, tilted her own glass of wine toward him in acknowledgement, then surprised Ren greatly when she swallowed the wine in just a few gulps. Ren had never seen Mor or anyone else in Rhysand's entourage consume anything while in the Hewn City, not unless they were safely in their living quarters. Even now, as Ren looked around, the party-goers were not sipping from their cups, and the long table of food was left untouched. Ren slid Mor a curious glance, wondering if the wine was normal or the magical kind, the type to make one lose all sense of time and dignity. Ren had drunk that type of wine more than once. He couldn't remember much of those nights, aside from flashes. No one drank that wine unless they wanted to forget.

Mor seemed to sense where his thoughts had gone, because she said, "This is normal wine. And cheap, no less." Mor wrinkled her nose as she studied the inside of her empty cup. "Clearly, Keir is putting the Night Court's money elsewhere. Perhaps he's making himself his own throne." A few courtiers glanced over at her voice, their faces paling as they shot wary glances toward the dais. They scattered soon after. Ren followed where their gazes had gone, then arched an eyebrow when he saw Keir glaring at the two of them coldly. Ren gave him a sweet smile and raised his cup toward him in a mocking type of greeting. Keir's lip curled. Ren turned away from him completely then, taking a small sip of his own wine, trusting Mor when she'd said it was normal. Mor was smirking at him, her brown eyes dancing in enjoyment. "Have I mentioned how much I enjoy you?"

"No, but I do love to hear it," Ren teased, and then he leaned back on the lounge, stretching him arm along the back of it. He tilted his head slightly toward Mor, telling her silently she was welcome to slide closer if she wanted to. He knew by then how much she liked staying close to someone she liked or trusted when forced to watch over the Hewn City. Mor took his invitation with a smile, sliding across the cushions and resting against his side. She played it up a bit just for appearances, hooking her leg over Ren's own, revealing her long leg. Ren, so used to his own long hair even now, started twirling a lock of her golden locks around his finger. He lowered his voice to a murmur as he looked around the large room. "Why is it everyone here is obsessed with sneering at us?"

"This lot is a conservative sort," Mor said with a snort, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. "I sullied myself by sleeping with Cassian. Cassian and Azriel are both bastards. Rhysand is half Illyrian, and to these people, that makes him just as much of a bastard. Amren is a monster wearing a High Fae's skin. Now we have attached ourselves to you. Anyone who joins our merry band of bastards, half-breeds, monsters, and whores is likely one of those things to these people. They're horribly predictable."

"I never understood conservatism," Ren said back, releasing Mor's lock of hair just to continue winding it around his finger again. If he kept it up any longer, her hair would naturally fall into a curl. "It seems like such a human sentiment. Why would immortals ever need to resign ourselves to made-up societal rules? It's utter nonsense." Ren rested his head back against the couch cushions, letting his eyes fall shut. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately, too stubborn about winning the bet. He knew it wasn't wise to fall asleep inside of the Hewn City, especially not in the throne room, but he figured Mor would keep him safe. He just needed a few minutes. Mor seemed content to let him rest, idly drawing designs on the back of his free hand as she surveyed the room. The only reason Ren was aware someone was approaching them was because Mor went slightly tense against him for a brief second before she forced herself to relax.

"Morrigan," a male voice said. Ren didn't recognize the voice, so he opened one of his eyes to see who it was. He was tall and pale from staying beneath the mountain, though the citizens were free to leave whenever they wished. Ren had asked Briella once why they didn't leave more often, and she simply said many of them preferred living in isolation.

"Talius," Mor said coldly. Her tone of voice made Ren's other eye open, and then he was straightening in his seat, though he was careful not to tug on the lock of hair he was still playing with. Talius flicked Ren a cool look when he moved, but he didn't greet Ren. All he did was look back at Mor, though a slight sneer curled at the corner of his mouth. Mor had stopped drawing on Ren's hand, but she didn't release him entirely, instead placing her hand slowly onto Ren's thigh. Talius saw the gesture and narrowed his eyes. Mor continued speaking after a moment, drawing Talius's attention to her. "What do you want? I'm quite busy."

"Pawing at Rhysand's new bedmate is what you consider busy?" Talius asked, scoffing. Mor's nails dug into Ren's thigh briefly, but then her grip relaxed. Ren just tilted his head. Being referred to as a bedmate was certainly better than any other words Talius could have used, but Ren was in no mood to hear anyone from the Hewn City run their mouth. His irritation was strong and immediate, and the power inside of him that he hadn't been able to use in a week started to build and build. He made a conscious effort to push it down. He would reach out to Rhysand after this, ask him to take him somewhere far away and abandoned so he could let this power out safely. Keeping it all inside of himself for too long would just drive him mad.

"What do you want?" Mor repeated calmly, not letting his scoff or tone get to her. A slight breeze arrived in the throne room as she spoke, stirring her hair. Ren glanced around briefly, wondering if someone had opened an entrance or a hidden window, but many others were looking around in puzzlement as well. It made Ren tighten his grip on his powers even harder, realizing he was once again losing his control on them. He had been slacking in training with them lately, though it was no fault of his own. There was only so much he could do trapped in the Hewn City.

"A dance," Talius said, cutting through Ren's worries completely. He cast Talius a cold look, but Talius wasn't paying him any attention. He had his hand held out to Mor expectantly, his face cold. He was not asking Mor to dance; he was demanding. Mor's eyes were narrowed, her red-painted lips curling in disgust.

"No," Mor said. Talius merely stared at her, his hand still raised.

"Get up," Talius ordered, so calm it made Ren's blood boil.

"She said no," Ren cut in, seeing Mor starting to get worked up. Her hand had turned into a claw on his leg. Talius flicked him a cold look.

"No one asked you, whore," Talius snapped, irritated, and Ren immediately saw red. He didn't like that word, liked being call it even less, and the slight grip he had on his powers disappeared entirely. It didn't build up inside of him. There was no chance for him to put a stop to it as it came. It just released out of him in one strong burst. It didn't manifest in rain and storms like it usually did. Instead, a violent wind swept through the throne room, so strong that it sent courtiers flying to the ground. No one suffered from the winds more than Talius. Where everyone else simply felt a strong gust of wind, Talius's wind had become violent, so strong and quick that the wind became sharp. It cut into his skin, sliced through clothes and flesh as if the wind was made of claws and teeth. Ren and Mor both jumped to their feet as the scent of blood filled the room, but while courtiers started screaming and fleeing, Ren could only stare.

Talius was absolutely torn apart by the time Ren got control of the wind. Blood pooled heavily on the marble floor, and the throne room itself was utterly deserted save for Keir and a collection of guards, though they were keeping their distance. Mor was clutching hard at Ren's arm, her eyes wide and alarmed, her lips moving. Ren had no idea what she was saying. His ears were ringing so loudly he couldn't even hear his own heartbeat. He had half a thought to try to heal Talius, but he was far too gone for that to help. Ren wasn't sure when he had died during his lapse in control, but he was definitely dead now. His eyes were staring up blankly, mouth open on a silent scream. Ren felt sick. Not because Talius didn't deserve it, but because he had lost control of his own powers so quickly, so easily.

A new hand curled around his upper arm, the one Mor wasn't clutching onto. Ren whipped his head around, thinking it was one of the guards. It was only Rhysand, having appeared right beside him, likely called by Mor herself. The dark wisps of his winnowing were still curling around his body as he took hold of Ren. Rhysand said something to all who were still in the throne room, but Ren still couldn't quite hear anything, though he was aware of his own breathing now, rasping back and forth out of his lungs. Rhys said one last thing, a snarl curling at his lips. Ren only caught a glimpse of Keir going slightly white in the face before Rhysand's magic curled around him. He was dropped into the familiar feeling of winnowing, and then his boots were landing ankle-deep in snow, and Rhysand was releasing his arm. The ice cold of snowflakes landing on his cheeks brought him back bit by bit, until all he could hear was the sound of wind shifting through the trees.

"Have you come back to the world?" Rhysand asked then, just when Ren realized he could finally hear, that the ringing in his head was gone. He felt Rhys slide out of his mind so obnoxiously it was clear he had wanted Ren to notice, and Ren slammed up his mental shields, alarmed that he'd dropped them at all. Turning just his head, he found Rhys leaning against a nearby tree, a long coat over what looked like Illyrian fighting leathers. His knuckles were bandaged, and Ren noticed a splatter of blood on one of them.

"Was there a fight?" Ren asked, mind focusing on that small detail. He was eager to focus on anything else. As long as they didn't discuss what this lapse of control meant for Ren's place in the Hewn City. There was nowhere else for him to go if he was kicked out.

"No. Cassian and I were sparring when Mor called to me. She said you were in trouble. Imagine my surprise when I arrive and see a dead male at your feet." Rhysand sounded so casual, so light, that Ren was afraid to look him in the eye. He didn't want to see the anger that was surely there. He glanced around at their surroundings instead. They weren't in the Illyrian Mountains. It was usually much colder there. It seemed they were in the woods by the mountain that housed the Hewn City, though there were no villages nearby that he could see. Just trees bare of leaves and so much snow he could get lost in it.

There was a crunch then, as Rhys walked closer to him and broke the snow layer with his shoes. Ren stayed abnormally still, keeping his gaze locked on a rock nearby, not quite hidden by the falling snow. He didn't look away until he was forced to. Rhys took his chin in a gentle grip and nudged his face up, until their eyes locked. Ren didn't see any anger there, any disappointment. If anything, he looked concerned. It made Ren finally find words to say.

"You won our bet," he blurted out. Rhysand went still for a moment, his eyebrows going up in surprise. Ren felt his thumb rub slightly against his jaw once before he dropped his hand completely. Ren didn't drop his gaze this time, didn't turn his head away. He just waited to see what Rhys would do now.

"Did I?" Rhys asked coolly, taking a small step back and sliding his hands into his coat pockets. Ren could finally move his body again, so he shifted so their bodies could be facing each other. He was idly aware that his toes were going cold in his boots. They weren't made to last in the snow. His shirt was even worse. Where it was breathable in the heat of the Hewn City, here he was cold. He crossed his arms to try to keep warm, trying not to shiver.

"Well, I can hardly finish my last book now, can I?" Ren asked, shifting from foot to foot restlessly. He blew out a heavy breath, watching his breath turn to frost in front of him. "I assume I just ruined everything. If you're going to send me away—or worse, kill me—then just get it over with. I'm in no mood for your cryptic moods, Rhysand." Rhysand's brow furrowed.

"You're not being sent away and you're not being killed, either," Rhysand said bluntly, and it wasn't until Ren shot him a wary look that he managed a small, if strained, smile. "You killing Talius wasn't ideal, but he was no one important. An arrogant guard at best, who even Keir disliked. Plenty others die in the Hewn City for less." Rhys stepped into Ren's space again and pressed a gentle, calming hand onto his shoulder. Ren focused on the warmth of it. "I took you here, Ren, because I could see you were very far away—and honestly, after a display of power like that, I figured somewhere out of the way would be safer for everyone involved. How long have you been stifling your power?"

"Not long," Ren admitted. He reached up to push Rhysand's hand off his shoulder, just to do something, but he ended up curling his hand around Rhysand's wrist instead. It was something else to focus on, something to hold onto. He was mildly aware he was trembling slightly, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or because of the adrenaline after his display of power. "I know how dangerous that is. I've been doing small things to balance it. Floating things to me on a wind. Making it rain while I'm bathing. Freezing and unfreezing my drinks. Whatever happened in that throne room, it came suddenly. I couldn't...I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Rhysand said immediately. "It was very impressive, from what I saw in Mor's mind. My only concern is what caused it." Ren grimaced and glanced away, then grimaced again and let his mind open for Rhys, bringing his mind into his own slowly. He replayed the short scene of Talius demanding a dance from Mor, then calling Ren a whore. Everything after that was loud, and quick, and bloody. Rhys removed himself from Ren's mind and grimaced, too. "Ah," Rhys murmured, releasing Ren's shoulder, though Ren didn't release his wrist. Their arms fell between them. Rhys didn't try to shake Ren's grip off. "I dislike that word myself. I would have punished him for it, though maybe I would've demanded an apology before killing him." At that, Ren managed a small, half-amused huff.

"I didn't want an apology," Ren muttered, and then he sighed and released Rhysand's wrist, choosing to rub at his arms instead. He was a bit calmer now, less in shock. "I can't imagine your father is very happy with me. I'm assuming another relocation is in order?"

"Unfortunately, word of someone controlling wind is already spreading," Rhys confirmed. "Even if Hewn City is technically safe, it's still too close for comfort. My mother and sister are both trying to convince my father to allow you access to another place that's even safer than the Hewn City, but until a decision is made, my father doesn't want you in the Moonstone Palace." Ren sighed heavily again and tilted his head back, looking up at the dark sky. He could see various dark colors there, like a deep purple, a deep green, a soothing blue. The stars were bright and glittering. There must have been a million of them that he could see. Even the snow clouds looked beautiful here, moving in the sky like wisps of smoke.

"I am becoming far more trouble than I'm worth," Ren said eventually, blowing out more frosted air and watching it curl above him. Rhysand was silent, but Ren could feel his gaze. It was a heavy thing, an intense thing. "Perhaps you should just let your father send me away, or kill me. Perhaps—"

"I know what I want for winning the bet," Rhysand said abruptly. Ren blinked slowly, then tilted his head back down to stare at Rhys in disbelief. Rhysand grinned in the face of Ren's disbelief, and the difference in him now—borderline playful instead of intense—made Ren roll his eyes and wave at him to continue. "I want you," Rhy said, reaching over to tug a lock of Ren's hair, "to stop fighting us at every turn when we're trying to help you." Ren blinked slowly again, then scowled and smacked Rhys's hand away from his hair.

"I'm being realistic," Ren snapped, frustrated. "Say that your father does allow me to go to this secret place of yours. Fine. Fantastic. What happens if I explode like this again?"

"It will not be a problem," Rhys said confidently, "because word of you being there will never leave that place. For all intents and purposes, you will have disappeared."

"What does that even mean, Rhys?" Ren asked, his voice breaking slightly, and that made Rhys lose his cocky smile. "What is this secret place all of you allude to? I don't need empty promises and reassurances, I need to be somewhere safe and secure. If you can't take me there now, then just send me back home. My parents will hide me as best as they—" Ren stopped then, but only because there was a slight tremble beneath his feet. He glanced down, alarmed, then turned to look at the mountain holding the Hewn City. Rhysand turned in the same direction as well, and a deep frown pulled at his lips. Ren glanced at him, then asked warily, "He's furious, isn't he?"

"No. Like I said, Talius was a nobody. He's mildly inconvenienced at the power display, and at word spreading so fast before we could control it, but my mother had him calm before we even arrived here. No, this is something else." Rhysand took a small step toward the mountain, tilted his head a bit, then huffed and turned back to Ren. "That wasn't my father. That was a High Lord's power shifting to their heir." Ren sucked in a sharp breath.

"A High Lord has died?" Ren whispered. When Rhysand nodded, his lips pressed into a firm line, Ren felt panic seize his chest. It had been bad enough when he'd been running from Jerrod. Even as an heir, he had limits. But if he was a High Lord now, he was infinitely more powerful. "Please tell me it wasn't Spring. Please. Even if you have to lie to me, just..." He couldn't finish his words. Panic had closed up his throat. Rhysand frowned at him, then tilted his head the other way. This time, Ren felt his mind expand around him, reaching far and wide. Just as quickly, Rhysand's power was receding, and when Rhys looked at Ren again, Rhys looked more relaxed. Immediately, Ren could breathe again.

"It was not Spring," Rhysand said quietly, "though I'm not sure you'll be happy with the news either way." Ren frowned at him curiously, but it wasn't long until he realized what he was referring to.

"Dawn," Ren murmured, his stomach sinking through the ground. "I knew the High Lord was ancient—he was in bed more often than not—but I thought he would have a decade more, at least. Did his power pass to his son or someone else?" Rhysand hesitated, and Ren reached forward to grab his coat, tugging on it desperately. "Tell me. Thesan was heir the last I heard, but faerie land is fickle. Did Prythian choose someone else?"

"No. Thesan is now High Lord of the Dawn Court."

"Thank the gods," Ren sighed in relief, leaning against Rhysand briefly, in need of some sort of physical contact. He was leaning away just as quickly, releasing his hold on Rhysand's coat. When he saw Rhysand's expression, however, his relief fled from him. "What is it?"

"My father is calling me back to the Moonstone Palace, that's all," Rhysand sighed, looking irritated as he ran a hand through his hair. It disrupted the style of hair, sending a lock falling down his forehead. Ren's eyes latched onto it, and he had to force himself to look away. "He is not allowing me to take you to an inn until a decision is made. He's just being difficult." Rhysand stood there for a moment, staring into the distance as he thought over what he should do, and then he sighed again and started shrugging off his coat. Ren opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, but only managed to let out an indignant grunt when the coat hit him right in the face, draping over his head entirely.

"You are so irritating," Ren growled, yanking the coat off of his head to glare. Rhysand merely winked at him. Rhys took a few gold coins out of his pocket, tucked them into the front pocket of Ren's pants—causing another indignant sound—and then he took the coat back from Ren and shook it out. He then held it open for Ren and looked at him expectantly. Ren wanted to say no out of pure spite, but he was too cold for that, so with a scowl, he stomped forward and slid his arms into the coat. It was the right length, falling past his waist in the same manner it did Rhysand, but it still felt too large for him. A lack of muscle on Ren's part, likely, though it was unfair to compare his build to an Illyrian warrior; Ren did not lack muscle by any means, though he was thinner than he used to be.

"Are you okay to be left alone?" Rhysand asked, once the coat was securely on Ren's person. Rhys didn't seem to mind the snow or the cold, likely due to his intense—and outright cruel—childhood training in Illyrian camps. Ren didn't know the full details, but he had heard rumors, and had even seen a few small boys in Windhaven training in the cold. Ren shook his head, getting those thoughts out of his mind. "Have you fully come back to yourself?"

"I...yes, I have," Ren said, mildly surprised Rhys would even have to ask. He started buttoning the coat up, wanting to keep any heat to himself, but his fingers were trembling. Now that his adrenaline was fading, the cold was truly starting to sink in. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a warm bath. He was regretting complaining about the Hewn City's heat. "Thank you. For taking me away. Is Mor alright?"

"The wind didn't even touch her. She's more worried about you," Rhysand said, reaching forward to button up the coat for Ren. When he reached the top, Rhysand teasingly chucked Ren under his chin with a finger, making Ren scowl at him. It only made Rhys's smile widen. "Like I am. Will you freeze to death before I get back?"

"I hope you fly head first into a tree the next time you take to the sky," Ren said flatly, and it made Rhysand laugh, his hands smoothing over Ren's shoulders.

"Always so mean to me, petal," Rhys said, then he started turning Ren's body in a different direction. Ren fought him for a moment, just because he could, but when Rhys flicked him playfully on the nose, Ren let out a small growl and let himself be turned. Rhysand pointed over Ren's shoulder, telling Ren silently to look right above the tree line. Ren squinted. It took him a moment to make out what he was seeing through the snowfall, but eventually he made out the swirls of smoke. "There's a small village just through those trees. See that star?" Ren tilted his head back, saw the star in the sky Rhysand was talking about, and nodded. "Follow that and you'll get to the village. It's about a mile walk, so I should be back before you get to Cillia, but if not, go to the inn and tell them you're my guest. They'll get you a room. Use the coins I gave you for payment. It's not the type of place to give rooms for free."

"If you're sending me off to walk in the woods alone at night, I'm assuming there's no nasty beasts I need to worry about?" Ren asked. Rhys laughed softly and confirmed there were no dangerous beasts this close to the Night Court capital. It didn't occur to Ren to even worry about being left alone. He didn't think Rhysand would lead him directly into a trap, trusted him not to, even. "Can't you just fly me?"

"I'm testing my father's patience as it is," Rhysand sighed, and then he released Ren's shoulders and took a step back. "You can winnow in that direction until you come across the village, of course."

"I'd rather walk," Ren decided. Winnowing only about ten feet forward at a time for a mile didn't sound enticing, and he felt he could use a nice, slow walk through the snow. "Go meet your father. I would hate for you to get yelled at just for me." His voice was dry by the end, amused, and Rhysand only responded with a quick wink before he disappeared. His winnowing this time wasn't theatric. There were no shadows or stars; he just winked out of existence right in front of him. Ren had always meant to ask him how he made the shadows and stars appear, but now he had to wait. Shaking his head, Ren took a moment to find the star Rhysand had pointed out, and then he started walking.

The snow wasn't as deep when he stepped into the thick crop of trees, thanks to how closely they were growing together, but fortunately most of the leaves had fallen in the winter. It left Ren a clear view of the night sky, and he kept the star firmly ahead of him. Ren was about halfway to the village when he heard a footstep behind him, a boot crunching beneath snow. Despite himself, Ren let out a small sigh of relief.

"That was fast," he said, turning to greet Rhysand, only for every muscle in his body to freeze. His blood and his very bones went cold, and the adrenaline and panic and fear that overwhelmed his body then did nothing to make him actually move. He could only stare, his blood roaring in his ears, as a man with familiar shoulder-length blonde hair took another step toward him. His scent had been masked expertly before Ren had turned, but Ren could smell it all too well now. Freshly cut grass and roses, the epitome of spring.

"Do you have any idea," Jerrod hissed, "how much trouble you've caused?"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So sorry for the long wait! Here's a cliffhanger :) And also a face claim change because why not?  Vote and comment xoxo