𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖

𝘼 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙

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╰┈˚ · ° .  WHATEVER TENTATIVE TRUCE WAS BUILT BETWEEN US FOUR, in the afternoon it vanished at the dinner table.

Tamlin was lounging in his usual seat, a long claw out and circling his goblet filled with sparkling wine. It paused on the lip as soon as Feyre and I entered the dining room with Lucien straight on our heels.

Tamlin slowly looked at the red-haired fae, whose face had turned grave at the sight of his friend. "We went on a hunt." Lucien said with a tight lipped smile.

"I heard," The High Lord said roughly, glancing between us three as we took our, by now, predesignated seats at the table. "And did you have fun?" Slowly, his claw sank back into his flesh.

Lucien didn't answer, leaving it to us. Coward.

I cleared my throat before answering with a nonchalant shrug. "Sort of. As always Lucian does not know when to shut his mouth." I said earning a scoff from the said male.

"Did you catch anything?" Every word passing through his lips was clipped out. Anger barely concealed behind the non removable mask on his face.

"No." Lucien gave me a pointed cough, as if urging me to say more. But I had nothing more to say.

Tamlin stared at Feyre for a long moment, then dug into his food, not all that interested in talking to anyone else.

It didn't take the emissary long to call out for the High Lord, "Tam."

Looking up from his meal, it was clear the battle raging against his control. Those green eyes showed more animal than fae. A demand for whatever it was that Lucien had to say, barely hanging to the last thread of his control.

Lucien's throat bobbed. A worried look blooming in his eyes."The Bogge was in the forest today."

The fork in Tamlin's hand folded in on itself. And then, with lethal calm, he spoke. "You ran into it?"

Lucien nodded once. "It moved past but came close. It must have snuck through the border."

Metal groaned as Tamlin's claws punched out, obliterating the fork. And so, his fight for control against his animal side was lost. He rose to his feet with a powerful, brutal movement. "Where in the forest?" He demanded the answer.

Lucien quickly explained to him the location as he tried to steel his nerves. Tamlin threw a last glance into our direction, lingering slightly more on the quiet form of my sister before stalking out of the room and shutting the door behind him with unnerving gentleness.

Lucien loosed a breath, pushing away his half-eaten food and rubbing at his temples. "Where is he going?" Feyre asked, staring toward the door where the High Lord had disappeared.

"To hunt the Bogge."

"You said it couldn't be killed—that you can't face it."

"Tam can."

"So he went to hunt the Bogge where we were earlier today?"

Lucien shrugged. "If he's going to pick up a trail, it would be there."

The rest of the dinner was finished quietly and quickly. It didn't take much for my twin and I to excuse ourselves and walk upstairs to our room.

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╰┈˚ · ° .  "Again" The voice echoed into the training room. The space was dark, lightened just by the few torches that hung on the walls and pillars made of dark gray stone creating thick shadows in all corners.

I stared at the beaten and bleeding boy that laid at my feet. My sword was pointed at his throat and my eyes were empty, lacking any human emotion, any warmth. I straightened my body and positioned myself in a fighting stance once again at the command.

The boy rose from the ground, still bleeding from the previous rounds and prepared himself again for another spar. We had been given a command and we had to follow it through. If in pain, bleeding, almost to the point of death. You follow the orders and his word was law.

The couple of cuts that my opponent managed to get on me were still bleeding and my muscles begged for me to stop, aching at the long after a long day. But I couldn't stop. I knew that I couldn't, just like I knew how this training session would end.

"Start." The voice spoke again. The black-haired fae. A male. A Fae. A nightmare concealed in a body.

The fight started once again. Swords clashed, again and again, metal against metal. Quick on my toes I swiftly moved to the side evading the next blow of my opponent's sword. We were similar in age, probably the boy barely a year older than my thirteen years old self but the difference between the wounds on our bodies were a clear sign of who was the better fighter. I bent my knees, moving my body sideways. My sword sliced on his side drawing blood quicker than he could even understand.

But the boy knew and he didn't show his pain, just as we were instructed to do.

Never show pain. Don't give away your weakness.

The match didn't last long after that as I quickly defeated my opponent.

I looked at the boy now on the ground waiting for further instruction from the shadow overseeing the training session.

I knew what he was going to make me do. Just like dozens of times before. The boy was too weak, I had beaten him too easily, receiving barely any deep wounds or cuts. To his eyes he was not worth it. He was weak.

"Finish him." The black haired fae with all sharp features commanded.

And so I did. I couldn't let myself think twice about it. I didn't flinch at the command of death, I didn't shy away from it. And even if I would never dare speak of it out loud, I basked into it. My sword cutted the boy's throat in quick motion before I regained my posture once again, not daring to look at the boy dying silently on the floor. I straightened my body, placing my blood-coated sword back in its sheath on my side, legs open slightly and arms behind my back, eyes casted downwards.

"You did good today." The black haired fae spoke. Braken was his name.

"Thank you, master." I barely recognized my voice. It was scratchy from the bare use of it, vocal chords roughened by screams that had been forever silenced. Hollow of any feelings and emotion. Bare of any spark of life.

"You are dismissed." He finally said. His pointy ears showed by the flash of the hot fire from the torches that casted shadows everywhere.

I bowed slightly to him before making my way out of the training room of The Temple. My home for the last 3 years.

With a loud thud, the door closed behind me as my eyes traveled down to my hands. The blood from the now dead boy stained my black clothes and was sprayed all over my face and hands. It was still warm. A mix of mine and the boy's, whose name I had not known and never will.

I gulped at the sight, looking at the scar that decorated my left hand.

Who I was anymore? What had I become?

My face hardened as I started to walk back to my room, a dark cell only lit by a couple of candles. Cold and humid with only a pallet for bed and a light blanket. But as I was walking away from the training room, a piece of my soul, what remained of it, stayed forever with the now dead boy. And my heart only grew colder and I knew it would continue to do so until the muscle in my chest would be completely frosted over until only thick ice would remain to take its place.

────༺∘☽༓☾༻────

╰┈˚ · ° .  I jolted awake by the dream. Memories of the past that still hunt me to this day. And probably always will. I knew that.

I raised my hand. The scar still the same as in the dream, as in my memory.

And with a restless mind, I knew that sleep was not going to come again, so I rose to mee feet, still dressed in loose pants and white shirt that I used a pajama, and I began to train, following step after step what was engraved in my mind to do.

────༺∘☽༓☾༻────

╰┈˚ · ° .  In the first hours of the afternoon I found myself in what was now my room, sitting comfortably on the chair near the window reading. Another book previously taken from the library was on my lap when suddenly Feyre marched in with a firm look on her face. It gave me a sense of déjà vu. Only yesterday she had come in with the same look.

"Oh no, the scheming face. Again with the scheming face. Tell me sister, what are we going to do now?" I said, eyeing my sister as I tried to refrain from grinning like I really wanted to. The book was now discarded on the chair as I gave her my full attention. I was bored of it anyway.

"Do you know anything about The Suriel?" She asked, her head tilted slightly as she asked her question.

"Not much more than you, actually." I answered, already knowing where this would go. "Meaning, I don't know how to capture one. So tell me your plan. I know you already have one."

"Come with me and I'll explain." She simply said, extending her hand for me to take.

With a playful roll of eyes I sat up from the chair joining our hands together before listening carefully to what she was saying.

I smirked at my sister, raising an impressed eyebrow at her "I like it. He will read through us easily but I think it can actually work."

"Really?" Feyre asked with a new smile on her face

"Yes" I shrugged my shoulders, already feeling bad for what I was going to say "Lucian does not care if we live or not, Fey." Her smile faltered slightly before reborning into a small one of acceptance. I squeezed her hand trying to give her as much feeling of pride that I could with that one single move "But it's a good plan. Good job."

With a small laugh from Feyre and grin on my face, us two started to walk towards Lucien's room.

As we arrived, it was Feyre that knocked on his door.

"Come in, humans." The red-haired Fae said through the white-painted double doors.

I eased open the door. The room was similar to mine in shape, but was bedecked in hues of orange and red and gold, with faint traces of green and brown. He might not live in the Autumn Court anymore but he was still part of it. It was still a part of him.

A worn worktable dominated the space, covered in various weapons. It was there he sat, wearing only a white shirt and trousers, his red hair unbound and gleaming like liquid fire.

My eyes gleamed at the sight of the weapons. Hands twitching at my side slightly wanting nothing more than to approach the table filled with steel.

How long had it been that I held more than the two very small blades that I successfully hidden from the Fae?

"I haven't seen you around," Feyre said, shutting the door and leaning against it trying to make the action seem innocent and casual.

"I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border—official emissary business," he said, setting down the hunting knife he'd been cleaning, a long, vicious blade. "I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list."

I furrowed my eyebrows looking at my sister for answers receiving a look that just said 'We will talk about it late'

"Well," he went on, shrugging, "it seems that you managed to get under Tam's fur enough that he sought me out and nearly bit my head off. So I suppose I can thank you for ruining what should have been a peaceful lunch. Thankfully for me, there's been a disturbance out in the western forest, and my poor friend had to go deal with it in that way only he can. I'm surprised you didn't run into him on the stairs."

"What sort of disturbance?"

Lucien shrugged, but the movement was too tense to be careless. "The usual sort: unwanted, nasty creatures raising hell."

"I'm impressed you answered me that much," She said as casually as she could, thinking through her words. "But it's too bad you're not like the Suriel, spouting any information I want if I'm clever enough to snare you."

For a moment, he turned and blinked at me. Then his mouth twisted to the side, and that metal eye whizzed and narrowed on me. "I suppose you won't tell me what you two want to know."

"You have your secrets, and we have ours," I said unbothered, eyes shifting to take in as much as I could about his living space.

"But if you were a Suriel," Feyre added with deliberate slowness, "how, exactly, would I trap you?"

Lucien set down the knife and picked at his nails. For a moment, I wondered if he would tell us anything at all. Wondered if he would go right to Tamlin and tattle.

As the silence stretched between the three of us, I decided to spoke "You can tell us how to trap a Suriel or I can torture the information out of you. I'm not really in the mood to search an entire library for information that probably would not even be there."

Their eyes snapped to me with a quickness that actually surprised me.

"Maiven!" Feyre reprimed me with a sharp tone. "We talked about this. Only threats of torture if he would not answer any of our questions"

I rolled my eyes but kept the Fae directly in my sight. "No threats there. Only the truth."

An unexpected laugh bubbled out from Lucian's lips. His head was tilted back, his luscious hair falling freely on his back. "You are such a murderous creature, aren't you, little human. But empty threats do not scare me." he said with a derisive grin in my direction.

What a murderous little creature you are. The voice echoed in the back of my mind like a broken disk. As soon as Lucian looked towards Feyre, it took me a second to reach the table filled with weapons and grab a dagger before pointing it at the red-haired fae's throat in a heartbeat.

"Maiven no!" Feyre yelled as she saw the scene in front of her eyes that had widened at my actions.

"I am." I said with a chilling tone, not bothering to listen to my sister, only answering to what Lucian had said. "And I will not hesitate to cut your throat. And not enough to kill you. I would do a shallow cut enough to cause pain and for you to bleed profusely before healing. And then I would do it again and again and again. Do not test me Lucien, I have little patience left. Now answer the question."

I could feel his heartbeat as his jugular vein pulsed against the blade. And it felt good. Too good. Having someone as Lucian, a fae with powers beyond any of what I would ever dream of ever possessing, freezing under my touch. It would have been better if he had been on the receiving end, though, but I'll get whatever I could. The bloodlust burned my vision, the feeling of death danced between my scarred fingers. Giving me back slightly the lack of control that I had over my own life.

Lucian gulped, eyes interlocking with Feyre's who pleaded him with her own. Finally, the Fae started to talk "I'd probably have a weakness for groves of young birch trees in the western woods, and freshly slaughtered chickens, and would probably be so greedy that I wouldn't notice the double-loop snare rigged around the grove to pin my legs in place."

I hummed at him, slowly taking the blade off his neck. "That wasn't so hard, was it."

Trying to regain a bit of his normal bravado, Lucian smirked towards me eyeing the bland still in my hand "Careful with that. We wouldn't want you to cut a finger off now, would we?"

"Don't worry, Red your fingers are perfectly safe." I answered while looking at the sharp blade. Just a drop of blood staining the immaculate almost reflective steel. "For now." I added with a hollowed look.

"If I were insane and stupid enough to go after a Suriel, I'd also take a bow and quiver, and maybe a knife just like this one." He continued, sheathing the knife he'd cleaned and set it down at the edge of the table—an offering. "And I'd be prepared to run like hell when I freed it—to the nearest running water, which they hate crossing."

"But you're not insane, so you'll be here, safe and sound?"

"I'll be conveniently hunting on the grounds, and with my superior hearing, I might be feeling generous enough to listen if someone screams from the western woods. But it's a good thing I had no role in telling you to go out today, since Tam would eviscerate anyone who told you how to trap a Suriel; and it's a good thing I had planned to hunt anyway, because if anyone caught me helping you, there would be trouble of a whole other hell awaiting us. I hope your secrets are worth it." Lucien said it with his usual grin, but there was an edge to it—a warning that I didn't miss.

Another riddle—and another bit of information.

"It's a good thing that while you have superior hearing, we possess superior abilities to keep our mouth shut." I said back.

He snorted as Feyre took the knife from the table and turned to procure the bow from her room. "I think I'm starting to like you—for a murdering human."

And once Feyre was gone, I looked at Lucian, his eyes already on me. Carefully trying to pull me apart and analyze me.

"Who are you?" He asked as he sat up.His tone strangely serious.

The corner of lips shifted into the beginning of a grin. "Hope that you will never have to learn."

Because I don't like many people, but you are one of them. Even if I just held a knife to your throat— That was something that I wished to add. But those words would never pass my lips.

Once at the door, I spoke again "Thank you for the loan Red. Very appreciated."

I disappeared in the hallway searching for my sister. The two curved knives that I had stolen, now safely put in my boots.

Western woods. Grove of young birch trees. Slaughtered chicken. Double-loop snare. Close to running water.

I repeated Lucien's instructions in my mind as I walked out of the manor with Feyre on my side, a satchel stuffed with a freshly dead chicken on my sister's shoulder. We passed through the cultivated gardens, across the wild, rolling grassy hills beyond them, over clear streams, and into the spring woods beyond.

After a while we found a spot on a nearby tree—a sturdy, dense oak whose vibrant leaves hid them entirely from anyone below as we waited after placing the trap for The Suriel.

The afternoon sun crept overhead, hot.

Did Tamlin or Lucien ever grow tired of day after day of eternal spring? I thought.

Because I certainly did already. The feeling of wrongness never left my body. I once asked Feyre if she had ever felt it, but her answer was negative. I didn't think twice about it after that, but the feeling still lingered in my body every second of the day.

A ripple of silence came toward us. As if the wood thrushes and squirrels and moths held their breath while something passed by. The trees seemed to lean in, their entwined branches locking tighter, a living cage keeping even the smallest of birds from soaring out of the canopy.

I withdrew the curved knives from my boots, now tightly holding them in my hands.

Then I heard it: a whisper, as if cloth were dragging over root and stone, a hungry, wheezing sniffing from the nearby clearing. There was a snap, a whoosh, and a hollowed-out, wicked scream. Another enraged shriek pierced the forest, and the snares groaned as they held, and held, and held. Feyre and I looked at each other, both nodding at the same time before we swiftly climbed out of the tree and went to meet the Suriel.   

✎

˗ˏˋ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ˊˎ˗

Hello everyone!

A little flashback of Maiven's past. I know it's very gruesome but it's part of her. There are trigger warnings at the beginning of the book for a reason, but please, if it's too much, don't feel pressured to read this book.

I swear, she'll be happy. With time.

I definitely love the scene with lucian. Mai it's not as unfeeling as she wants to appear. But she was brainwashed to be like that. To not show any emotions.

New villain unblocked: Braken. You'll see more of him later on!

Anyways, thank you for reading this chapter, I'll see you on Wednesday!

˚ · ° . 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞 . ° · ˚

𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞!

– 𝐋𝐨𝐥𝐚 ☾