"I don't think he's here." It was past midnight. The full moon was shining brightly but the breeze – that cold breeze. It was maddening. And while the two tents stood in front of me, I couldn't imagine anyone of rank living there.

"Is it too cold for you, Tamlin?" It only took the sound of my voice to feel the ripple inside of me. I looked at that boy next to me. While I reflected the looks of my mother, he reflected the looks of my father perfectly. It was unnerving, I thought, how the dusty brown-haired boy nearly looked identical to our father. And he didn't act that different either. His brother's eyes had grown larger, almost like the full moon, when he saw the tents in front of him.

"Think about it," I spat back. "Don't you think the son of the High Lord would be somewhere a little bit better off? He runs his own legion, Cameron. That tent looks like…that tent is no tent made by an Illyrian warrior. It's probably just some Lord."

"There were ten sentries surrounding the areas," Cameron argued, motioning to the dead bodies around me. Their blood didn't even look like liquid – it looked like a blanket in the snow. They weren't exactly the best of the sentries, we had taken them all out in five minutes without waking the individuals in the tent. "Ten." I shook my head at him.

"You don't know Rhysand like I do," I replied. "If he was here, he would have already heard your quarreling. Plus, he doesn't even use sentries. He thinks he's too good for it." I began to turn away, my feet nearly numb from the snow, but then I felt Cameron's hand clamp onto my back. He spun me around, pushing me against a tree. But the moment my back felt the bark behind me, I twisted his hand and he scurried back, cursing.

"Tamlin, what the-" I took a dangerous step close to him.

"Do not touch me," I said slowly, my voice low but as crisp as the cold air. Cameron let out a laugh as he grabbed at his hand.

"Fine," he breathed. "Go on, then. Like the scared little girl you are." My eyes narrowed on him.

"We're leaving," I told him now, a direct order. "Father put me in charge. Now go." And then we were at a stalemate. He held my tight gaze for a moment.

"You really want to go?" He asked tightly. I didn't even reply, just stared at him harshly. He exhaled deeply.

"Fine, but let me take a piss first."

"Cameron, at least let us get a mile away so in case someone wakes up-"

"If someone wakes up then I'll take care of it, alright?" He snapped. "Just go." I shook my head at him, following the trail of blood that we had made going into the clearing. Ever since we were ordered to go on this trip, my brother was obsessed with the idea of killing Rhysand. I had told my father that it was miserable idea – what would happen to us if we killed the Night Court's son? We didn't have the resources to fight the Night Court. We were better making an alliance. But as soon as I said no, he went to Cameron and I couldn't just walk away. I was too damn stubborn to turn down the opportunity.

Suddenly, I turned back around.

"Cameron, it doesn't take that long to take a-" But then I saw him creep towards one of the tents. Quickly, I rushed towards him. I grabbed onto him just as he was about to reach the flap, but he swung a dagger towards me. I stumbled back.

"Cameron, put that away. You don't want to-"

"I'm going into that tent," Cameron seethed. His eyes were flashing. "And your cowardice isn't going to stop me." We held each other's gazes for a moment. He wasn't going to walk away, I realized.

"Fine," I agreed slowly. "But we go in together." He rolled his eyes at me but then agreed. I went in first, slowly opening the flap. It was insanely cold in the tent, proving that whoever lived here was clearly used to the blistering cold. But I saw the white blonde hair that flowed over the pillow. It was probably just a local Illyrian traveling through the mountains, not bothering to hide their tracks. Slowly, I went towards the sleeping individual but when I saw its face, my mouth went ajar.

"Semele."

Her eyes opened the same time I gaped. She scrambled up, fear overcoming her for a moment. She dodged for the knife next to her but I was faster. I kicked it out of her hand, letting it fly to the other side of tent. And then, as her eyes looked at the dagger in the distance, her face softened. The fear washed away and her chin rose.

"You know who this is, Tamlin?" My brother cooed. His eyes were dancing. I didn't say a word – just held the woman's gaze silently. She was far different than our mother, smarter to say the least. I had seen this woman at meetings, forming solutions aloud in front of a dozen men. Majority of the time her husband would bark at her to be silent, but her responses were always cunning. Calculating. And there was a certain amount of respect that I had for her at that moment. My mother was always so critical of Semele's boldness, saying that if she wanted to declare her opinion so much than she should have stayed with the barbaric Illyrians. The world of Higher Fae wasn't meant for her.

My mouth went dry.

"You came here for my son, didn't you?" She asked, her voice chillingly calm. My brother smirked, his dagger tight in his hand. As I eyed it, I wanted to tell him that he was holding it at the wrong angle. He would never be able to have a killer strike if he held it like that.

"Where is he?" Cameron demanded. She didn't even blink.

"Not here," she said flatly. "He was supposed to come but he had to make a detour." I hesitated now. My head swung towards him.

"See, he's not-"

"Imagine," Cameron said under his breath, his hazel eyes twinkling. "Imagine the look in his eyes when he finds out his mother is dead." My eyes widened.

"We don't do that," I replied fast. "She's a woman. We don't kill women."

"Why? Because you're too weak to stomach it?" Cameron spat. My face tightened.

"I'm not weak!" I yelled finally. My head whipped towards the woman. She hadn't moved an inch. Instead, her eyes stayed on mine evenly.

"You killed all the sentries?" She asked me, her voice as soft as a feather. When I didn't respond, she understood the answer. I waited for the dread to wash over her face but she simply looked at me. For some odd reason, there was no fear in her eyes.

"You do know if you kill me," Her voice was distant, "he'll kill you?" She said it so casually, as if she was just talking about the weather. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my dagger.

"Rhysand isn't going to kill me," I told her. She shook her head lightly. And there was something close to pity on her face.

"Not Rhysand. My husband. He will not stop until everybody you know, everybody you love, is dead. And he'll do it with his own hand." And it wasn't a threat or a tactic to save her life. It was a warning, a genuine warning. And I had heard about their love. Her husband was obsessive, some said he loved her more than he loved his own children. She was the most beautiful wife out of all the High Lords' wives and he took pride in it. He wore her like a trophy on his arm.

And I hesitated. Because she was right – Tiberius was ruthless. He wasn't as strong as his son but there was an anger in him that was irrational. Something worse than the cocky, prodigious Illyrian that his son was.

"Hey, Tamlin, who do you think is in the other tent?" It came from Cameron. I looked at him, my lips curled upward.

"Probably a maid," I snapped impatiently. But when I looked at Semele, she looked stricken.

"Who is that?" I snarled, whipping my dagger towards her. She didn't even flinch.

"My lady in waiting," she spilled, not skipping a beat. "She's pregnant. A commoner. She's not worth your time." And so I looked at Cameron, shaking my head. Don't.

But his eyes kept lingering at the tent, his attention now off Semele.

"What are you waiting for?" She snapped suddenly. There was something desperate in her tone. "If you don't kill me now, you won't have time to find Rhysand. He's still in the mountains." But then I hesitated again.

"He's still in the mountains?" I repeated. "And why would you ever tell me that?"

"Why would I let my son turn away from a fight?" She replied, with the identical tone. But Cameron scoffed.

"She's lying…" Cameron whispered, a smile on his face. An anxiety suddenly went through me, remembering the split-second terror that had been on the Lady of Night's face. For once, Cameron was right. Someone was in there, I realized. And it wasn't a lady in waiting.

Before Cameron could look back at her, I swung my dagger, slicing the woman's throat. Blood sprayed into my face but I didn't stutter. It was just a woman, I told myself. Just a woman.

"See. It's done. Let's go-" But he had already made it to the other tent. I cursed under my breath.

"Cameron!" I bellowed. "Rhysand is still out there. We are not going to waste our time with some-" And then I looked over his shoulder. And I could have sworn, within one moment, my whole world collapsed. My knees had grown weak, and I could no longer feel the chill in the air. All I could do was stare.

He was smiling. A cruel smile.

"No," I breathed. "We are not touching her." Luna was on her feet. Like her mother, she didn't look afraid. But she was weaponless. She was backed into a corner. Her eyes looked at me. I could barely look back.

Why? I now thought angrily. Why would her father ever let her go without being certain that Rhysand would meet her here? Was he that much of a fool? Did he not care about his daughter? His wife?

"Tamlin?" She asked, breathless as she leaned towards us. It had been years since she's seen me. Somehow, she looked the same but entirely different. Her dark hair was braided around her shoulder and her eyes, violet, looked terrifying with the candle light flickering. Though her features hadn't changed at all, something about her looked older. "Why are you in the Illyrian mountains? What happened? There's blood all over you..." My mouth was ajar. I looked at Cameron.

"Cameron, this has gone too far," I snarled, my fangs coming out. He flinched when he saw them, a trait he had never inherited, but his nose flared.

"Don't you want that asshole to get what he deserves?" Cameron sneered. "Always strutting around, acting like he's better than the rest of us. Shouldn't we show him who wins?" And then Luna took a small step towards us. I looked between them quickly.

"Are you talking about my brother? Rhysand?" She asked, and she bared her teeth at me threateningly "Where's my mother? Did you…did you hurt her, Tamlin? Has your rivalry gone that low?" And her words, at the end, were quiet. So quiet that it was chilling. Those last few words would haunt me for years.

My head turned to Cameron. He looked like he had just found the jackpot.

"Forget Rhysand," I hissed at him. "He barely even knows his sister. He wouldn't care if she died." It was lie. It was a huge lie. But Cameron didn't know that.

"But she's just so damn pretty, isn't she?" Cameron spat at her. She seethed. "Like a porcelain doll." And then I turned my dagger towards him, only an inch away from his throat. He looked at me wildly. Even a bit fearful. Because he knew I could do it, I could slice his throat before he could even tilt his dagger towards me.

"This is over," I told him. "We aren't doing this, Cameron."

"You would hurt me? Your own brother?"

"I-If it stops you from hurting her, yes."

"Why? Because she's your stupid whore?" My dagger loosened in my hand. The words felt like a slap in the face.

"What the hell are you talk-"

"Well, that's why you care, right?" He asked. "Because you fucked her?" My face drained.

"That's-I wouldn't-"

"Then you would mind if I…"

I bolted upright. Sweat was pouring down me, covering my face. I glanced at the large windows behind me. The sun had finally peaked over the hills and I took in a ragged breath. My head was bleating and all I could see was her violet eyes. And then I remembered that it wasn't just a dream, her eyes were alive. She was still here, in my castle, breathing. I got to my feet, not even bothering to put on a shirt as I walked out of my room. From down the hall, I could hear a range of voices fight to be heard.

"Oh my Cauldron-" I began to walk towards the voices.

"Luna-"

"We're never letting you go. Never, ever again."

When I met the doorway, I froze. Luna was awake. She was sitting up in the bed, her cheeks beginning to have color and her eyelids no longer flickering. The purple bags under her eyes were gone and her fingertips, as she kept running them through her dark hair, were no longer green. For the first time since I saw her, she looked alive. She still winced whenever someone spoke too loudly and her body was recoiled tightly as if she was trying to get away from the crowd around her bed. But all of the inner-circle was there again, chattering quickly. Rhysand was quiet as he sat back, his eyes looking heavy. Relieved, but heavy. The rest were sitting on different chairs taken from other rooms and none of them even noticed me as I leaned my body against the doorway, sticking my hands in my pockets.

"Luna, gah! I missed your hair so much," Mor squeaked, grabbing at her dark hair. Luna flinched slightly. I noticed that she had changed her clothes from the formal black dress to a dark, cotton gown.

"Let go of her!" Amren growled, swatting at her hand. Mor pursed her lips. "I finally found a spell that would help her heal. I don't need you making her recoil." Mor's arms crossed against her chest.

"I'm just excited that I finally have another girl here," Mor babbled. "I mean, a girl who is actually girly, I mean." Mor shot looks at the rest of the females there.

"I'm girly," Elain objected. Mor rolled her eyes.

"You're modest," Mor corrected. "There's a difference."

"Don't worry, Mor," Rhysand interjected, a ghost of a smile on his lips, "you'll have the rest of eternity to play dollhouse with her." Mor narrowed her eyes on him, but he looked too happy to care. Feyre was standing close to him, her hand on top of his. For whatever reason, she didn't join the tight circle that hovered around Luna. She looked reluctant, maybe even scared.

"We should probably update her on the last few centuries before we make any playdates," Cassian said, leaning back in his chair on the back two legs. "After all, we have to explain why she's here." He looked down at Nesta who was seated next to him and she scowled.

"We'll have time for that later," Rhysand said, his eyes shining. "Let her-"

"No," Luna objected. Everybody in the room stopped – it was as if a porcelain doll had spoken. "I want to know what's happened since I…" Her voice lingered off into the distance.

"You cut your hair." And then I realized she was looking at me. Everybody swung towards me immediately. Cassian pulled out a knife instinctively and Azriel's chilling eyes were on me like a hawk. It was Nesta's gaze though, sharp and without mercy, that made me choke.

"I…" My hand went to my hair, feeling the ends curl around my ear. "When I came back from the war, there was so much blood in it. I just thought it would be easier to cut it all off." There was a moment of quietness, her eyes looking at me deeply.

"What a shame," she replied. "It was beautiful." Everybody scanned her for a moment, the silence filling the room like a cloud of smoke. My fingers gripped the doorframe that I was leaning on, trying to grasp for something incase my knees buckled. Her eyes were so daunting, so hard to look at without thinking about every mistake I have ever made.

"Everything has changed," she whispered, her eyes falling to her lap. But then it was Azriel who walked towards her, putting his scarred hand on top of hers. There were tears in her eyes when she looked up at him.

"Yes, it has," he said softly. "But that's why we're here. So we can tell you about it." She let out a shakey breath but then nodded.

"Rhys…" she said, turning towards him. "Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning." Rhysand looked at me, his eyes hard. Because the story started with us – when I killed her. And it wasn't that he was looking for my permission, but almost as if he was waiting for me to jump in.

"It started when our father sought vengeance," Rhysand decided to say, looking at Luna solemnly. "After you died…" And he told her every single detail. Even when my eyes grew narrow and I felt like I would have to leave the room, he still kept going. He told her about the beginning of his reign, and how he outed many of the powerful Night Court lords. He told her about the consequences of his choices, but how it only made them stronger. He then went on to Amarantha, and the prophecy. He explained that he went Under the Mountain and while he didn't tell her his duties, he told her it was unbearable. Feyre had reached out to him, but his fingers curled up. Almost like he was there all over again.

"And then Feyre happened…" And the way he said it, the way his voice broke, he wasn't wrong. Feyre, despite our issues, changed everything. And we all looked at her, because nobody was capable of telling her story. Only she could tell her story. She looked around at her family, at her inner-circle, and her body seemed to grow smaller.

"It started here, right in this room," she began quietly. I looked around, suddenly realizing that it did in fact start here. It was her original room. After the war ended, I renovated majority of the castle. I hadn't noticed that this was her room until she said it. And when she started her story, I expected her to antagonize me, to insult me, but she didn't.

"He's the one that found me," she said, nodding in my direction. Luna didn't say anything, just stared at her patiently. I had expected more surprise – but nothing. "Looking back on it, I was the mortal that the Cauldron picked. I was the girl who was meant to fight Amarantha."

"You loved him?" Luna asked, her voice oddly sharp. "And what about Rhysand?" And Feyre didn't even hesitate when she replied.

"I did," Feyre admitted. "And Rhysand…we had a different relationship." And she didn't hide anything. She told her about Calanmai, with details that I had never known, and then she told her about how she went Under the Mountain and fought Amarantha in the name of our love. She told her about the risks she took and the fear we both went through, but she also talked about Rhysand and how he helped her, though there was a cost. She told him their love wasn't immediate, but he felt it and he didn't dare let her go. She told her about how turning Fae almost broke her and maybe, if she hadn't turned Fae, we could have made it. But we didn't.

"I left," Feyre croaked, and her next words were strained. "Maybe not the best way for him, but it was the only way I could." And while she talked, she didn't talk about me. She talked about them. She talked about how she found her family and how she found out who she was. She talked about how she fell in love with each and every one of them, with each story being different. And she told her that when she found out Rhysand was her mate, everything came together and not only did she accept the bond, but he gave her a title that changed everything. She told her that it didn't come without scrutiny but she knew she was meant to have it.

"And then she came back to the Spring Court," I said aloud, though there was no anger in my voice. "And the High Lords learned how powerful she truly was." Feyre held my gaze for a moment, hesitating, but then she talked about meeting Hybern and what he did to a court she had once loved. She told her that that's when she decided Hybern wouldn't just die – he and everything he loved would be destroyed. She talked about Jurian and Lucien and the twins. She told her that when she left, she made sure that Hybern knew how terrifying she could be so that when he touched the Night Court, he would be fearful. She told her about the battle and how her sister swayed the rest of the courts to fight.

"And in the end, it was like the beginning," Feyre croaked. "Tamlin and I fought next to each other. And without him, neither I nor my mate would be alive." Rhysand mumbled something under his breath and Feyre giggled. Luna's lips were pressed together firmly.

"And you're the reason I'm back," Luna snipped, her voice cold. "The three of you Archeon sisters. You're the reason I'm alive. In this body, suffering." Feyre flinched back but Rhysand leaned closer to Luna, holding Feyre's fingers tightly.

"It's not Feyre's fault. She didn't know-"

"No," Luna snapped. "But because of her actions, I'm a corpse brought back to life." Rhysand's face had tightened.

"I understand your anger but-"

"You don't!" Luna said, her voice breaking. "That's the problem, Rhys. You don't understand my anger. That thing you are with-"

"That thing is my mate!" Rhysand bursted, jumping to his feet. His eyes were bloodshot. And for just that moment, I wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all, or if he had just been hovering over her body all night long. "And I will not sit here and let you insult her, Luna."

"It's okay," Feyre interrupted quietly, her eyes on the ground. "She's right, Rhys. I shouldn't even be here." Her hands slipped away from him but his face slackened. He reached out for her but she pulled away.

"No, Feyre, please-" But she brushed away from him, not even looking back as he made a sound of protest.

"Feyre, hold on," Mor said, standing up, but Feyre put her hand up towards her.

"Stay," she said firmly, and this time it was an order. "I'll…I'll be downstairs." She didn't look at me when she walked through the doorway.

My eyes turned to Rhysand, expecting him to go after her despite her commands, but he didn't. His hand was still in the air though, as if he was waiting for her to come back. He took a deep, shaky breath as his hand fell to his side. Luna swallowed but her chin rose high when her brother met eyes with her again.

"Why did you have to do that?" Rhysand demanded, cutting each word sharp. "She's family, Lu."

"Family?" Luna said, laughing at the word as tears filled her eyes. "She's not family. She just some girl who saved your ass." Rhysand looked bewildered.

"Yeah, yeah, maybe she is," Rhysand said, his eyes cold as night. "But she's also so much more. You have to give her a chance." And it almost sounded like he was begging. Like he couldn't live in a world where she didn't like her. Despite the fact that he had be tortured in every way possible, this would be the worst. This would be the thing that broke him.

"No," Luna said. "I don't." Rhysand was perplexed. His mouth was ajar.

"Luna," Mor interrupted, and she was struggling from losing patience, "I can't imagine my life without Feyre. She's one of us." And then I turned away, leaving the crowd of people silently. I couldn't hear it anymore – not the bickering at least. And Luna…alive. It was like a dagger to the heart with each and every breath.

I started towards Jurian's room. He was, to my surprise, the only person I hadn't seen and despite the fact that Jurian irritated me to no end, it made me feel uneasy. When was the last time he hadn't woken me up in the morning? He was always in my doorway, complaining about something and yet it was Rhysand who waked me up. And then my pace began to quicken because…something must be really wrong if Jurian wasn't the one who woke me up.

But then I saw her.

It was stupid for me, I realized quickly, to leave just as Feyre left. I had assumed she would be in the living room but no – she was here. Looking out the window that showed the beautiful scenery behind my estate. Reflecting the beautiful skies, the colorful gardens that were filled with countless fruits, overseeing the many servants who were giggling to one another. There was nothing on her face that looked at it longingly, but she was mesmerized.

"I made a painting just like this once," she said, her voice small. "The Spring Court except…better. More colorful, happy. With people smiling and children playing in the garden and a sun that shined far brighter than it ever had. And you hated it because you knew before I did that it wasn't the Spring Court I was painting at all. I didn't know I was painting somewhere else, somewhere that was merely a dream in my head, until I left." I didn't say anything. I had nothing left to say. I was tired of having this argument continuously. My court had lacked many things at the time, yes, but I couldn't control that. And I knew if I replied, my words would only be vicious and cruel, so I didn't speak.

"It looks close to that painting now, though. Something better," Feyre said, and it almost sounded like a compliment. A back-handed compliment, but a compliment all the same.

"I told you it would get better." It was all I could say. I had imagined this moment before – her coming back from the Night Court and her precious mate and realizing what she had missed. But when I looked at her now, I knew in her eyes that she didn't want to come back. She was merely in awe of how it transformed. Maybe even a little bit proud.

"Elain likes it," she went on. "She won't admit it to me because she's too nice to do so, but it reminds her of her home. She'll like the Day Court even more, I think. Ever since she heard Lucien was Helion's son, something clicked. Like suddenly she longed for him. She was made for this kind of world…sunshine and valleys and gardens filled with every fruit and vegetable possible. It was her dream." And at this point I realized she wasn't even talking to me anymore. She was talking to herself.

"I could live with that. Her leaving to live in the Day Court, being with her mate, being happy," Feyre said. "But I don't know if Nesta can handle being without her. And Cassian…he would rather die than leave the Night Court. I can feel the fear in him every time he looks at her, wondering if Nesta will leave with Elain and he'll have to choose. Did you know he's proposed to her eight times? Eight times and he might lose her because of the Cauldron all over again."

"Lucien isn't going to leave anytime soon," I found myself saying. Not necessarily to comfort her, but to remind her. "He'll try to stay here as long as possible, using Luna as an excuse to not go to the Day Court until he has to. He only took the opportunity because Eris baited him." Her eyes nailed on me coldly.

"And will you let him?" She asked, her voice sharp now. "Stay here, in the Spring Court until Helion dies?" I was quiet for a moment. Truthfully, I didn't know. I was no longer angry and clearly, despite all of the things I hid from him, he wasn't angry at me. And I had seen him around Rhysand's inner-circle – he didn't love them like Feyre loved them. Helion was right that Rhysand could show him beautiful things, a beautiful life where he would be content, but he wasn't meant to be there. He was meant to rule.

And I also knew deep down that Helion, despite what he said, wanted him here, not in the Day Court. If Lucien stayed here, it would be easier to communicate with him without causing tension. And, to be realistic, Helion still wants to keep tabs on the situation with Luna. He could get updated out of Lucien regularly if he needed to.

"That's not concern for the Night Court," I replied, but my words came out as a whisper. Feyre pretended not to hear my bullshitted response, staring at me stiffly. I sighed tiredly, looking into the hills.

"Eris made a point yesterday that Helion doesn't actually care about Lucien. And I agree - I don't trust Helion. Not enough, at least," I said, my hands clamped behind my back tightly. "If something happens with the Cauldron…if it gets better and he stops being ill…I don't trust Helion to not hurt him."

"The Night Court would defend him," she told me. I glanced at her and her eyes looked at me pointedly. I didn't disagree. I was sure she would – and she would destroy the Spring Court to do it.

I laughed at this. A bitter laugh.

"You think I'm saying I would just send a couple of sentries over there," I said in a low voice. "The Night Court isn't the only court that sees their court members as a family. You forget that Lucien was barely a man when he came over here. He was only seventeen when his brothers drove him out. I practically raised him." And she only looked at me. She didn't even say a word.

"I would hunt him down," I told her. "I would end Helion with my own hand if he killed Lucien."

"I never knew," she whispered, though she sounded unsure of my words. Like she didn't necessarily believe that I ever loved him at all.

"I didn't either until he left." And the words hung in the air for a moment, as we both digested what I said aloud. It was like finally addressing the big elephant in the room – you left, I wanted to say, but he left too. And the truth is, I loved her. I loved her so much that it was obsessive and I sought her out like a predator seeks out prey. But Lucien? It was like losing an arm. He wasn't just my best friend, he was the closest thing I had to a son. And I didn't realize that until it was too late.

"Well, now you have another chance," Feyre gritted between her teeth. My eyes narrowed on her.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked slowly. She blinked at me once before responding.

"You're going to do better," Feyre told me, her voice rising slightly. "You will do better this time, Tamlin. You will not abuse him like you did before, you will not take advantage out of him." My nostrils flared.

"You of all people don't get to call me out on that after all that you did-" But then something weird happened. She stumbled back, her face phasing out for just a moment. She took in a ragged breath.

"Feyre…?" I asked slowly, the anger dissolving instantly. "Feyre, are you…" And then she blinked at me.

"I have to go," she snapped. "We'll finish this conversation later." And before I could ask anything more, to let out the words I so deeply wanted to roar at her, she winnowed away.

~*~ Discidium ~*~

Feyre's cruel words mocked me in my head over and over. Soon after she disappeared, I stomped back upstairs angrily, rushing towards Luna's room.

"You are all leaving," I began saying, "I told you all that we would do this in an organized manner and-" But when I looked inside the room, it was only Luna and Azriel. Luna sat up calmly, blinking at me. Azriel shot me a look. And then I felt a tug inside me – a small string as I looked at the small gap between Azriel and Luna. It wasn't necessarily jealousy like I would have had with Feyre, but it was instinct to look at it. To have a burning sensation inside me saying that the image of him, so close to her, was wrong. Like all of my biological senses was saying that something unnatural was happening, seeing the small gap between them. That the small gap shouldn't be that small.

"Where did everyone go?" I asked stupidly, forcing my eyes to look at Azriel. He lifted up one eyebrow.

"I would offer to show you but you may not come back," Azriel said, his voice low. Luna tilted her head at him sympathetically, reaching for his scarred hands.

"Your High Lord told me that today he would assist me in making a plan on who goes in and out of this household, and while I had the compassion to let him grieve and allow his inner circle-" But then Azriel let out a short laugh. Not a mocking laugh that would come out of Rhysand, but a short chuckle that a man would make before cutting off someone's hand. A laugh of impatience. A laugh that would make anyone freeze in their tracks and scream for help.

"Don't be so cruel, Azriel. After all, he is quite cute," Luna said. My cheeks heated up, my body stilling. Azriel's eyes shot towards her, looking at her with disdain.

"Stop flirting with a man who killed you," Azriel said back, his voice light but brotherly. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not flirting. I'm lightening the mood," She told him. "Say, Azriel, can you go downstairs and get me something to drink? I'm sure you know where the kitchen is." My eyebrows furrowed down as Azriel rose from his seat obediently. Maybe it was because he got up so easily, or that he did in fact know where the kitchen was, but I stammered.

"I do have servants, you know," I scoffed.

Azriel, as he brushed past me, whispered into my ear, "Not anymore. I dismissed them." And before I could muster any words, he walked away from me coolly. I looked at his flickering shadows that still followed him out of the room and then to Luna. My mouth was ajar.

"This can't stand," I snarled at Luna. "I cannot condone-"

"If you want to be angry at Rhysand, be angry at Rhysand," she muttered. "But don't get angry at Azriel. He is the one I need right now." I shook my head slowly.

"So much has changed since you left," I said softly. "These people…your family. They're different. Worse than they were before. If you knew half of the things they have done-"

"But I do, remember?" She snapped. "I heard the story. Or was that untrue? Did you not kill my father? Did you not fall in love with that mousey whore?"

"I had my reasons."

"I'm tired of people saying that," Luna said, strained but tired. "I'm tired of people saying they had their damn reasons. None of you had reasons. You all acted out impulsively." My eyes narrowed.

"Believe what you want," I growled. "But this is my home. You are in my home. That beast-"

"He was the only one who controlled himself!" Luna bursted. I shrunk back suddenly.

"Controlled himself?" I repeated. "He had always supported Rhysand's actions." She rose her chin at me.

"I saw his dreams. He dreamed of killing you in the most painful ways, Tamlin," she hissed. "For years. His vengeance was nothing like Rhysand's, he wanted to get his revenge separately, but he didn't. He knew what I would have wanted and he respected that. Out of the lot of you, he is the best. The purest. The one who truly honored me." And I didn't speak at first. A part of me was furious that a man who was now lingering in my home was also a man who wanted to do atrocious things to me, who plotted against me, but a curiosity spun in my stomach.

"And does he still? Have those dreams?" And then she blinked. It was as if all the anger washed from her face and her vulnerability finally showed.

"I-I don't know." And as we looked at each other for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes, I realized we had met one of those moments of silence that was incredibly loud. I felt that string tug at me again as I gazed at her. She looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. I used to feel gross thinking that, as she was my then-best friend's little sister, but I couldn't help but wonder what if? What if she didn't die, what if Rhysand and I never became High Lords, what if I had pursued her when the time was right? If I had realized that she was my mate when I first met her, instead of feeling repulsed by my own attraction towards her, would any of this happen?

"Calanmai was real," I said aloud, nearly choking my words. "How?"

"I heard your voice calling me in the forest," she croaked. "So I came." I opened my mouth, about to say something, but whatever I would say I knew I wouldn't be able to take out so without another word, I turned around and walked out.

~*~ Discidium ~*~

"You're still lingering here, are you? Like a sad dog waiting for his master to pay attention to him? Pathetic."

"I am not lingering! Tamlin told us we could stay here-"

"Before your friends blew open the doors to his estate."

"They didn't-I didn't know they'd do that!"

"That's what every spy says. Now grab your girl and the little firey dick you have and leave, Fox-Boy."

"Wait, what?! You think I'm a spy?"

"A bad one."

"Your opinion means shit, Jurian! I am not leaving until Tamlin says I have to go."

"Please, spare yourself the humiliation. It's getting old."

"He wants me here!"

"He does not!"

"He does!"

"He does not!"

"He's staying." The words came from me. Both of them turned around with a swift motion, their mouths slightly ajar as I leaned against the doorway of Lucien's room. Despite Lucien's objections, half of his clothes were already packed. Clearly, he didn't believe his own words. And while the scene was slightly amusing, I didn't want this petty conflict going on in my estate.

"What?" They both said. I blinked at the both of them once.

"I thought you wanted to stay, Lucien," I said tightly. He blinked at me stupidly.

"I can stay?" He repeated, his voice cracking at the end. "Of-of course I'll stay. I mean, as long as Elain can stay. She can stay, can't she?"

"She's more useful than you are being right now," I muttered. He flushed with redness, swallowing. But his back straightened and he nodded curtly.

"Tamlin," Jurian objected in a hushed whisper, "don't be dull! He brought his stupid friends over here, broke all of the damn windows, and-"

"Quiet, Jurian." Jurian's mouth grew wider, too dumbstruck to reply. I shifted to Lucien.

"Your stay doesn't come without payment though, Lucien. I am allowing you to stay only because Helion doesn't want you at the Night Court and I know I'll be the first person who'll have to deal with his tantrums if you are not within reasonable distance of him. You'll spend your time here being an ambassador for the Night Court and will keep them in line. If Rhysand causes any unnecessary conflict, it'll be on your head." Jurian let out a stifled cough. I didn't so much as look at him.

"I-Of course, of course I will," Lucien stammered. "But if I am to stay here, I do need to go get Elain back from the Night Court. Do you mind if I-"

"Go," I shooed. "Godspeed, Lucien." And with one nod, he winnowed away. When I looked back at Jurian, he was red with fury.

"You can't possibly-"

"But I can," I said, stepping towards Jurian. He stilled, his nose flared. "This is my court, Jurian. If you cannot behave…"

"I'll behave," he drawled. "But can't we put him somewhere else? Possibly in the garden shed?" I looked at him impatiently.

"No," I replied. "We will not." He rolled his eyes.

"There is no such thing as keeping Rhysand in line, Tamlin. And if there is, Lucien sure as hell won't be the one who can do it."

"We'll see," I said. And then there was a quiet gap between us, not unlike what had happened between Luna and I. A part of me was tempted to leave, but I knew he wanted to say something. His eyes kept running over me, the fury that was once on his face now gone.

"Is she okay?" He asked quietly. I nodded curtly.

"She's better," I said, and then added bitterly, "In Rhysand's spymaster's hands, at least." Jurian's eyebrows perked up.

"Maybe he's the spy," Jurian offered, smirking. But I shook my head.

"They've always been close," I told him in a low voice. "Always…together, in their own way." Jurian's smirk disappeared. He reflected a worried look.

"What do you mean?" He asked. I inhaled deeply, trying to push down the luring discomfort inside me. All I could see in my mind was the small gap between them, the small space that I kept trying to forget.

"I'd forgotten how close they were. How…much they cared for each other."

"Romantically?" Jurian blurted, a bit of shock in his voice. "I knew the both of them but I had never seen any romantic connection."

"What they had was behind the scenes," I said, my voice strained. "Rhysand was an adult when his mother got pregnant with Luna, obviously, so he wasn't there when she was growing up. By the time Rhysand got into his twenties, his father practically banned him from court aside from the annual balls he hated so much. He really wasn't a brother to Luna, he barely knew his sister until she was an adult." Jurian's eyebrows furrowed down. He flicked an invisible piece of dust from his shoulder.

"Sad," Jurian drawled, though he didn't sound apologetic in the least, "but what does that have to do with Azriel?" I let out a breath before continuing, the boredom leaking out of my words.

"When the war came, years later, his father separated Rhysand from his friends because he feared that they would use his moment of weakness to take his throne. Cassian went to be a foot soldier, Rhysand got to command a small legion, and Azriel accompanied the High Lord at his court to be his spymaster. Azriel was at the estate often, going with him to vital meetings and coming straight back from missions to inform him of what was going on. During that time, Luna was born," I explained. "Luna once told me that her father was fond of the spymaster and almost saw him as a son of his own, in his own twisted way. A son he didn't have to be afraid of." Jurian looked mildly interested.

"Even after the war ended, Rhysand's father forced Azriel to serve at his court," I went on. "He saw how useful Azriel was and even though Rhysand resented him for it, his father exploited him for his gifts until the end of his reign. And so, through the many years that Azriel lurked through the halls, doing Tiberius's bidding, Luna grew close to him. Before she was a teenager, she had only met Rhysand a handful of times but Azriel? He saw her multiple times a week for years. They became close as she grew older." Jurian snorted.

"So what? They one day felt the sexual tension and snuck away in the middle of the night to have romantic sex?" Jurian asked, bemused. "The loyal friend fucking his best friend's little sister?" My jaw clenched at his words, thinking about her, my mate, in bed with someone else.

"No," I sneered. "Azriel became a brotherly figure. There were rumors that was Tiberius's intentions towards the end, sure. It made sense. I always wondered why he always delayed Luna's marital arrangement. But Tiberius was a calculating man. He knew of Azriel's love for Morrigan and Luna's inability to be tamed by a man. I'm sure all he was doing was waiting for the right moment to manipulate their companionship for his own selfish needs." Jurian probably heard the underlining anger in my voice, but he didn't say anything, just waited for more.

"And that's when I came along," I said, sighing deeply. "I was a good ten years older than her and I met her during the aftermath of Rhysand's capture. Years following the end of the war, Tiberius began to trust Rhysand again and pushed him to visit court regularly. Rhysand didn't like it but when he met me at a few court functions – I think it reminded him of Amarantha, so he used me for a scapegoat whenever I was available. And then, for just a while, there was all of us in Luna's life – Rhysand, the brother who finally decided to exist. Azriel, the brother who wasn't even her real brother but would die for her. And me, Rhysand's unlikable friend who visited the Night Court far too frequently." Jurian's eyebrows rose.

"So you were the one who snuck away with her in the middle of the night to have romantic sex?" Jurian guessed, his smile lengthening. I tilted my head at him.

"No," I said quickly, "Well, yes, but no. It was complicated." Jurian snorted again.

"It doesn't sound that complicated," Jurian chortled. My face hardened.

"Our story is not important." And when I said it, I felt a pang in my gut. Our story. There was no our, I tried to remind myself. We were nothing. Yet, at the same time, we were everything, I thought. I killed her, I killed her after everything she had done for me. After everything we had done to each other. I murdered her. I let her die.

"Whatever you say, Tamlin," Jurian sniggered. My eyes narrowed on him.

"Its history, Jurian," I told him, my voice firm. "Everything between us is history."

~*~ discidium ~*~

Kind've a boring part to stop this chapter but I haven't exactly planned how I'm going to transition into the next scene so uh, here you go. I need some reviews, please. Like, I love reviews. So review. It takes like two seconds to share your opinion.

P.S. I have a few other stories I am writing at the moment. One being a prequel of Rhysand's parents (The First Story) and a post-story to do with Azriel that does not follow this story line (A Wind of Whisps and Shadows)