𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘚𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵

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╰┈˚ · ° .  WE ENTERED THE LINE OF TREES JUST OUTSIDE OUR HOME, following a couple of steps behind the fae still shifted into his animal form. Darkness had beckoned beyond and I was home. Not in the cottage with my family, but drenched in shadows.

A white mare was patiently waiting unbound beside a tree, magic keeping her tethered there or something. Her coat was white as fresh snow shone like the moonlight. Of course, expecting just one of us— and even more so confirming my theory that it had never been a choice to kill the one that had slaughtered the wolf— only one horse had been here to wait.

The High Lord motioned with his giant paw for us to mount mere, not even voicing his command.

I mounted first knowing that it had been years since Feyre had ridden. Once safely on top of the horse, I extended my hand for my sister, helping her to mount the saddle in front of me.

It wasn't surprising when we headed northward, toward faerie territory waiting just on the other side of the barrier. Fae and Faerie had from us human beings, called plenty of things, murderers and monsters from the more common. But humans were much like them, murderers and monsters. I was the living evidence of it. But my hate towards them was not born from hatred towards their kind from childhood horror stories of common hatred, but from something different. Probably even worse than hating them for a war that caused millions of deaths. One male, only one, and it had lighted the match of my hatred. And even worse, for everyone, not only for the faerie kind but for the world itself. Years ago it had almost consumed me. That is when I knew that he was right. Emotions are a weakness. And so, I blew out the match and with it, everything that was meant to spark any type of emotional response. It wasn't worth it, the fickle moments of happiness and too many ones of anger and sadness. It was somewhat better. I was better.

I glanced at my hand, the thick scar on my left palm staring right back at me.

Sometimes they would still come, those moments where I would feel before I shook it away. Sometimes I would make myself stare at the scar on my hand, the most emotionally painful one from all the scars that littered my body, and I would will myself to feel something, anything.. But most of the time... nothing ever happens. But it was how it was supposed to be. Because emotions are a weakness.

"What manner of faerie are you?" Feyre suddenly asked, bringing me back from the tunnel of my thoughts "Do you have a name?" she continued to ask her questions.

But they went null to the fae's ears who didn't even bother to turn around for a second or dignify her with even a single look.

"He is a fae. He can shapeshift, this is only his animal form." I answered to my sister, not even considering hiding my smirk and look of satisfaction as the beast turned around, growling, his sharp canines peeking from his snout.

A huff of air that could have been a bitter laugh, followed. "Does it even matter to you, human?"

Feyre opened her mouth again with another question, but apparently he had enough. With a growl of annoyance rippled out from his throat, we didn't even get the chance to struggle, to fight back, when a charged, metallic tang stung their noses. Magic was bleeding into the air.

Feyre was the first to pass out.

I fought with everything in me to resist, following the training, everything that I had read and learned, but that only accomplished to give me a couple more seconds before I too, was starting to get affected by it. If he had been a simple faerie I would have resided. But this amount of magic, I could feel it increase with each second that I continued to stay awake. Another moment perhaps, I would have just killed the beast had it been done with it, I didn't, I couldn't.

"Asshole." With my lack of strength it came out as a choked whisper, but it was unmistakable what transpired from those words.

I was beyond pissed.

I could have sworn that I had heard the faerie chuckling lightly in his beast form before exhaustion slammed down upon me and blackness swallowed me whole.

────༺☽༓☾༻────

╰┈˚ · ° .  I awoke with a jolt atop the horse, secured by invisible bonds made of magic. The sun was already high above, the air scented heavily with flowers.

The High fucking Lord was using his magic to hold both of us, Feyre and I, restrained. I quickly noticed the absence of the majority of my weapons. Their familiar weight missing from my body. The faerie had taken the only one he could find, at least. I noticed that I still had a blade hidden in the inner part of her corset, and the one in my hair that was easily passed as a hairpin. They were small. Too small, but it was better than nothing.They were appreciated but not needed, literally anything could be turned into a weapon if used in the right way. And most of all, I had my hands, it was the only weapon that I needed.

I brushed my hand on my thigh where the hunting knife usually rested in his sheath and with its missing presence, how my mind wanted to panic, was very unexpected. I had to get it back.

I looked at my sister, now she too was fully awake, looking around her and at how different the word looked from the winter woods of our home. I squeezed her shoulder trying to calm her nerves that I could practically feel buzzing against my skin. The chirping birds flitted past us, and a mild breeze kissed our faces. And still, it smelled too much like flowers for my taste even if around me, everything seemed magnificent.

A hedge-bordered metal gate waited ahead of us, swinging open without a porter or sentry, just by magic. The beast continued through and whether we wanted to or not, the horse followed after him.

Two days—it usually takes two days from the cottage to reach the wall and enter the southernmost border of Prythian. The fae had kept us unconscious with his magic for two days.

What an asshole.

The estate sprawled across a rolling green land. I had never seen anything like it, even our former manor couldn't compare for what I could remember. It was veiled in roses and ivy, with patios and balconies and staircases sprouting from its alabaster sides. The grounds were encased by woods, but stretched so far that I could barely see the distant line of the forest. So much color, so much sunlight and movement and texture. And a part of me hated it without even knowing why.

Spring was all around us, as of course it would be expected from the Spring Court.

"We are in the Spring Court." I whispered as lowly as possible to my sister, who, wide-eyed, looked amazed at the scenery. Feyre nodded her head, probably already having thought of it.

The Spring Court was the one that was just above the wall. The southern of them all with its south border to the mortal land. Followed by going upwards with the Autumn Court, on the right side side and Summer on the left. The two territories almost split in half equal ground each. The Winter Court followed and then above it a small line of territory that divided Prythian in a half. Divided the seasonal Courts from the Solar ones. A line of no man land. Following on the upper part of Prythian and from above the small line belonging to no one, there was the Dawn Court, confining at north with the Day Court. Finishing the seven courts, on the far north of the Fae territory, there was the dreaded Night Court, apparently feared by many and for good reasons.

Even if it was the most beautiful place that I had actually been to, I couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness that this place brought inside of me. My heart was tugging in my chest to somewhere else. I wasn't supposed to be here, in the Spring Court.

The fae meandered on ahead, leaping nimbly up the grand marble staircase that led to the giant oak doors in one mighty, fluid movement. The doors swung open for him on silent hinges, and he prowled inside.

The lack of other faeries, workers and servants here at the mansion was pretty difficult not to notice. And even more weird since knowing of the social status of the shapeshifter fae that took us from our homes. But I could recognize the signs of their presence. The shivers traveling down my back and the hair rising from my arms, goosebumps forming on my skin... Magic was all around me in Prythian, that was true, but the use of it for something like a glamour felt different. He had made sure that each and every one of us that stepped out from The Temple after our training, knew how to distinguish it, and how it felt.

They were there, they were only glamoured.

I climbed down from the horse first, attentively watching Feyre glancing around and focusing on the gate that we had passed.

Her way to escape. But I knew it wasn't a good idea, not even a thought out plan.

I squeezed her leg signaling with my head a firm no or at least not now. Trying to escape now would do us no good since it was for sure meant to end in us being captured once again. I helped her down, being careful of her stiff body from being two days on a saddle, without food and water.

We passed through the open doors and into the shadows of the house. Black-and-white checkered marble shone at our feet, flowing to countless doors and a sweeping staircase. A long hall stretched ahead to the giant glass doors at the other end of the house, and through them, I could glimpse a second garden, grander than the one out front.

A ​​low growl from a nearby room, so deep that it rattled the vases overflowing with fat clusters of hydrangea atop the scattered hall tables. As if in response, an open set of polished wooden doors swung wider to their left. A command to follow.

What the fuck they need all this flower for?

I rolled her eyes at his command but followed after him nonetheless, still being sure to keep my sense peeled for any possible threat.

We entered the room, a long table filled most of the space. It was laden with food and wine—so much food...

The beast plopped into the chair, the wood groaning, and, in a flash of white light, turned into a golden-haired man.

"What did I tell you?" I grinned at my sister who had jumped back at the sudden transformation.

The now fully transformed into male, rolled his eyes at me. I could literally feel his distaste for me even standing so far away. It only made me grin wider. But even that was only to create a scene. The grin was hollow of anything.

The man appeared to be young, or at least what I could see of his face seemed young since his features were covered by a golden mask embedded with emeralds shaped like whorls of leaves. It left only his eyes—looking the same as they had in his beast form, strong jaw, and mouth for everyone to see, and the latter tightened into a thin line. Of course, even if he seemed young, High fae aged physically differently from us humans. And I knew for sure that the High Lord of the Spring Court, Tamlin, was 507 years old if I had done math correctly .

"You should eat something," he said.

Unlike the elegance of his mask, the dark green tunic he wore was rather plain, accented only with a leather baldric across his broad chest. It was more for fighting than style, even though he bore no weapons I could detect.

"Sit," he said gruffly, waving a broad hand to encompass the table. "Eat." He let out a low growl when we both stood firm in our places.

I was actually trying to remember everything I knew about him. My mind swirling with words from books that I've read, and teachings from The Temple. "Unless you'd rather faint?"

"It's not safe for humans." Feyre stated. Apparently she had taken seriously— just like almost all humans— all those stories that we had been told. The majority of them, of course, were fake and invented by the fae.

He huffed a laugh, more feral than anything. "The food is fine for you to eat, human. Leave, if you want," he added with a flash of teeth. "I'm not your jailer. The gates are open—you can live anywhere in Prythian."

I narrowed my eyes at the fae trying to understand him. I knew he needed Feyre, his intentions were clear as he would have not killed me even if he thought that I killed the wolf. All of this seems a little too weird for me, to be honest.

"Fine," he said once both of us still didn't move, the word laced with a growl, and began serving himself.

The hair on the back of my neck raised and just seconds after that I pulled Feyre behind me, someone strode past us, heading right for the head of the table.

"Well?" the stranger said—another High Fae: red-haired and finely dressed in a tunic of muted silver. He, too, wore a mask. He sketched a bow to the seated male and then crossed his arms. Somehow, he hadn't spotted us. Well, he clearly wasn't very skilled or was very stupid.

"Well, what?" The blonde Fae cocked his head, the movement more animal than human.

"Is Andras dead, then?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly with a nod of his head. apparently the wolf had been another shapeshifter, probably turned by the High Lord himself.

"How?" the stranger demanded, his knuckles white as he gripped his muscled arms.

"An ash arrow," said the other. His red-haired companion hissed. "The Treaty's summons led me to the mortal. I gave her safe haven."

"A girl, a mortal girl, actually killed Andras." Not a question so much as a venom-coated string of words. "And the summons found the girl responsible."

The golden-masked one gave a low, bitter laugh and pointed at us girls still standing near the door. "The Treaty's magic brought me right to their doorstep."

The stranger whirled with fluid grace. His mask was bronze and fashioned after a fox's features, concealing all but the lower half of his face—along with most of what looked like a wicked, slashing scar from his brow down to his jaw. It didn't hide the eye that was missing—or the carved golden orb that had replaced it and moved as though he could use it.

Even from across the room, I could see his remaining russet eye widen. He sniffed once, his lips curling a bit to reveal straight white teeth, and then he turned to the other faerie. "You're joking," he said quietly. "One of those scrawny things brought down Andras with a single ash arrow? And why by the Cauldron there are two of them!?"

Bastard—an absolute bastard. A pity that I don't have the arrow now or my sword— I thought bitterly

"It was one of them, but they wouldn't admit who actually was. So I had to bring both of them here."

I looked at the red-haired Fae with a raised eyebrow, a smirk on my lips as I waved her fingers mockingly at him. "I am much capable of killing any humans, faerie and fae alike with my hands." I said with a haunting smirk "Would you like to have a demonstration?"

"Mai!" Feyre warned me, her hand squeezing my arm tightly in fear.

The male response was a hiss that just made me more pleased with myself.

"So who was it?" The blond-haired Fae asked, his eyes switched between me and Feyre who, it seems, was trying to merge her body with the door frame.

"Give me your word that once we tell you who it was, we will be safe. The both of us. No matter who killed the wolf." Feyre spoke.

"Or apparently Andras and not a wolf." I said as a matter of fact.

The two Fae snapped their heads at me, Tamlin glaring and red-haired one titling his lips in a snarl. I was sure he was ready to kill me if he didn't actually need who kill their friend.

"Can you stop antagonizing them, please?" Feyre whispered her plea almost in my ear. Her body shook with fear as she gripped tightly my arm looking at me with her gray-blue eyes.

I nodded my head, containing the huff, and eye roll that I wanted to add to it. I would stop antagonizing them. For now. It probably won't last long. They needed Feyre alive, they wouldn't harm her because of action. And of that, I was glad.

"Yes, both of you will be safe and continue to remain here." He replied with a huff, annoyed by all of this. "Now, who was it? Who killed Andras?" His tone changed, it was clipped with barely contained anger.

"I want a pact made with magic. Your words mean nothing to me." I said, eyeing the High Lord.

The male eyed me carefully, his lips titling almost in the beginning of a snarl. "I swear that you both will remain safe from harm from me and anyone belonging to the Spring Court." Magic sized into the air as the promise was bound with magic.

"Good." I replied. I looked at her sister for a second, our hands intertwined. We exchanged a look, one where we spoke without the need of words before I looked back to the two faes in the room.

"She was." I said with a shrug, dropping any type of fake amusement that I had previously faked.

They both widened their eyes, probably not expecting that it was Feyre who had actually killed the wolf. My confidence and lack of fear and any mouth filter likely made the red-haired fae think that. But for the other one, the blond-haired one, the numerous weapons that I had on me, the way I had fought back when he had come into our home, my too extensive knowledge... Those were probably a big hint for him.

To their eyes it was improbable that little frail Feyre, with her tattered clothes and barely any meat on her bones could have killed their friend. But they had underestimated her, her strengths. And not the physical one, because in all honesty, she could barely punch someone without breaking her hand, but the strengths of her soul, of her heart, the same strength that brought a fourteen years old girl in the woods to hunt for her family with any knowledge of hunting. The same strength that gives her heart the way to love with all of it, almost in a consuming way.

"Where are my weapons?" I asked Tamlin, already tired of their gawking and speechless selves, "I would really like them back."

"And why would I give them back to you?" He growled.

The deadly facade that I learned to put on during the previous years slipped on my face in an easier motion than a normal smile. "Because they are mine." I said. I only wanted the hunting knife but saying those words would give them the knowledge that they had something that I wanted. It would give away a weakness. I stilled at my own thoughts. Weakness, weakness, weakness. I couldn't have one of those and so I made the thought of having my knife back fly away.

My staring contest with the High Lord was soon interrupted by the red-haired fae that seethed at Feyre, "Well,now we're stuck with that, thanks to your useless mercy, and you've ruined—"

I stepped forward—only a step, covering my sister from the view of the faes ready to protect her if needed even bare handed.

"Did you enjoy killing my friend, human?" the red-haired one said. a snarl curling his lips "Did you hesitate, or was the hatred in your heart riding you too hard to consider sparing him? It must have been so satisfying for a small mortal thing like you to take him down."

Feyre said nothing, only furthering the male's anger, his jaw tightened.

"Anyway," the fox-masked one continued "Perhaps there's a way to—"

"Lucien," Tamlin said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."

Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to the girls in a mocking way. "My apologies, lady." Another joke at their expense. "I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary." He gestured to Feyre with a flourish. "Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold." He then turned towards me, lips twisting in a smirk searching her eyes for something, something that he will never find "And you, it's weird. It seems almost as the shadows find comfort in you, I can feel it. Your eyes are light colored, a light gray but I just see their dark and cold presence in them. Are you haunted by shadows, perhaps?"

The blond-haired fae sighed, calling Lucian's name lightly, already tired of his behaviors.

"Why, thank you" I started with a sweet smile, placing a hand on my heart acting as if he had given the best compliment ever. Of course, I did not answer his question. Too many things haunt me these days. "You just look like an asshole." I finished still smiling sweetly at him but my eyes sprinkled with mischief. Something else that Nesta had said a million times when I was younger was that I had too much in me.

"Mai, please" Feyre whispered again, even more afraid that I had offended the Fae with my direct insult and this was just going to go down badly.

Lucien cocked his head a bit before bursting into a loud laugh.

"Her name is Feyre," said the High Lord. He must have learned our names at the cottage. Those striking green eyes met mine again and he then said "And she is Maiven." He then looked to the door. "Alis will take you to your rooms. You could use a bath and fresh clothes."

I felt my sister tugging at my hand ready to follow the faerie out of the room. But I had one last thing to say before I was ready to follow after them.

"Lucien." I nodded my head at the red-haired fae before turning towards the High Lord. My tone just above a whisper, not enough for Feyre next to me to hear, but enough for them both to be able to with their heightened hearing. "Tamlin."

They're wide eyes were the last thing that I saw as I walked out alongside Feyre and Alis. And for a second, satisfaction sparkled in me. Small flicker of real happiness before it too was snuffed out in a matter of seconds by— as Lucian had said— those shadows that haunt me.

✎

˗ˏˋ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ˊˎ˗

Hello everyone!

The foreshadowing is heavy in this chapter btw😉 

Maiven knows a lot of things, I know. You will understand how she actually does. I love how she doesn't have a filter tbh even of it's not for a really happy reason.

Her inner monologue is very sad, she has a very straight mindset that will make sense, but it's pretty clear that her past was different from the one of her sisters.

Thank you everyone for the 1k reads already!!💗 

˚ · ° . 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞 . ° · ˚

𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞!

– 𝐋𝐨𝐥𝐚 ☾