He always thought he'd die rapidly. Even if he was in old age, resting on his throne, he always believed he would be murdered with one whip of a knife, or a moment-long heart attack in the middle of his sleep. Not this. Not sitting in Rhysand's home endlessly, on a soft bed, counting the painted stars on the ceiling over and over. He had already spent the last countless hours pacing around the round room, along with staring off the balcony at a city that was too beautiful to be real. He had already gone through his hours of fury. That Rhysand's home could be this beautiful, while his court was rotting to the ground. And as he grew angrier, and the hours kept lengthening, he questioned why Rhysand had placed him in such a beautiful room, overlooking a majestic city that he was never meant to look at. Because, surely, Rhysand would never let him leave now that he knew how perfect his beloved city truly was. For whatever reason, Rhysand didn't feel like he needed to hide it from him. And that terrified him.

"Hello." Eris jumped off the bed so rapidly that he was dizzy when his eyes found his younger brother. He inhaled sharply. He knew he was here, lurking in the townhouse, but he hadn't expected him to visit. His eyes went up and down him slowly, taking in the sudden change. He was dressed in black – leather pants, a black sleeveless tunic, with obsidian bracelets and dark hiking boots. His hiking boots had razor-sharp silver spikes at the top and looked more expensive than Eris would ever be able to afford, High Lord or not.

"Well, well, well, isn't it little Lucien, cowering in his mate's utopia as his land is pillaged and destroyed," Eris muttered dryly. Lucien's jaw clenched. A year ago, those words would've caused Lucien to attack him, but he barely twitched. He was leaning against the doorway casually, one of his eyebrows perked up in mild interest.

"The door is wide open, Eris," Lucien said, a smirk on his lips as a gestured to the open doorway. "Go on. Nobody is keeping you hostage." And maybe, technically, they weren't. But he knew that once he stepped through that door, he was a goner. Rhysand would never let him leave that place alive. At least not now, when their relationship was so fragile.

"You're not even going to ask about her?" Lucien coaxed after a long moment. He almost sounded marveled by Eris's disinterest. Eris snorted.

"About what, Lucien?" Eris retorted, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "About your mate?" He had turned away from him, pacing towards the balcony again, unable to meet Lucien's eyes.

"No. Morrigan," Lucien emphasized cruelly. "Rumor has it that you're her mate." Eris ignored the disgust in Lucien's tone. Lucien said it as if he was accusing him of a war crime, not even considering the possibility that their connection was simply an aberration that he didn't ask for. He closed his eyes, trying to muster a rebuttal, but it was too late. The secret was out. His secret that he had kept for five hundred years was now known to the whole Night Court – maybe even across all of Prythian.

"You knew, didn't you?" Lucien continued, his voice quiet. It felt like the words that had always clouded his head were finally speaking aloud. "You knew, when she came to our castle, bleeding to death, that she was your mate? And you did it anyway…"

"Why did you bother coming over here if you already have your answer?" Eris spat quickly. His arms crossed against his chest tightly. "I'm not like you, Lucien. I'm not willing to destroy my own court over a girl. Forgive me if I have ambitions." When Eris looked behind his shoulder, his face tightened. Lucien looked like Eris had hit him, his face filled with redness and his body standing abnormally still.

"I don't have to justify myself to you," Lucien said, his voice stern. His metallic eye swirled around rapidly, as if debating on whether Eris was worth killing. "Don't compare my sins with yours. Our selfish actions aren't even in the same league." Eris opened his mouth, a cold retort already on his lips, when a new voice interrupted.

"Lucien?" A soft voice chimed. "Ah, there you are. I brought your brother some soup." Before Eris even saw her, Lucien's face lightened. He had never seen Lucien look so happy just by the sound of someone's voice - he had never seen Lucien look so happy about anything. But when the small, angel-like girl dipped into the doorway, he had forgotten Eris was there entirely. She was probably a hundred pounds soaking wet, wearing a flowy, white gown and her caramel hair in loose curls. Her brown eyes were so light that they almost looked like a dark gold, and when she turned to look at Eris, he didn't see any judgement. He didn't see any judgement or hatred or anger.

Lucien's eyes followed her as she entered the room bravely, holding two cups of soup. In normal situations he would've declined and declared a hunger strike, but he was so struck by the young girl's courage that he forgot how to decline.

"I heard you haven't ate since you got here last night," the girl said. He was quiet. "I made this for you. I…I think a number of us in this household have learned that not eating doesn't solve anything. And neither does being alone." And there was something about the girl as he stared at her that made him wonder if she had always been this nice, or if it was a gift that she gained from the cauldron. It was evident now that Lucien had only entered the room because he knew that his mate would be coming in as well. Not because he actually cared about his older brother.

"I'll eat it," Eris said, holding the girl's excited gaze. "Only if he leaves." Lucien's eyes narrowed on him warningly, but the girl's smile didn't falter. As the silence lengthened, and Lucien realized that she wouldn't object, he scowled.

"Fine. Only because she spent an hour making it and I actually respect my mate's choices," Lucien growled, not without shooting him a look that meant death if Eris were to harm her. To be fair, Eris was surprised that Lucien didn't fight to stay in the room. But why would he? Even Lucien wasn't oblivious to the fact that Eris had no advantage to causing her harm. "I'll be right downstairs, Elain. Say the word and I'll be here." But Eris didn't tear his eyes away from Lucien until Lucien's shadow disappeared into the hallway. At that moment, he looked back at the girl and grimaced. She looked so…innocent. It almost made him feel uncomfortable.

"Take it," she said, her voice soft. He reached for the cup carefully, not daring to look away from her. She, though he knew she could feel the distrust between them, sat on the bed with her own cup of soup and motioned for him to sit next her. With no other choice, he obeyed.

They were quiet for a moment, neither of them touching their soup. Dwelling into the silence. But he couldn't even glance at his soup. He was too unnerved by her – too suspicious.

"You know what I did, don't you?" Eris asked, his eyes narrowing on her. She nodded lightly, a smile still on her face. It almost seemed like she was glowing.

"And you don't care? At all? That I nearly killed your friend out of my own selfish good?" Finally, her smile broke. Her eyes dropped down to the soup, and Eris could feel himself leaning towards her cautiously. Her thumb circled around the cup of soup aimlessly, her eyes falling away. But finally, she spoke.

"When I was a human, I was selfish. Unbelievable selfish. Nobody saw me as selfish because I was nice, decent. But I was horrible. I let my sister struggle every day to keep us alive while I didn't lift a finger. And when my sister left to live with faeries, I let myself be betrothed to a man who would've killed her if he had the chance. All because she was a dauntless woman who would do anything to save us. And even though I didn't know what happened to her, that my memory was wiped by Tamlin and my own sister lived amongst them, I…I don't think it mattered if I knew or not. I would've married him anyway, knowing who my sister is, knowing the atrocities of his values, knowing inside me that he would never change, simply because he made me feel special." She choked for a moment, as if trying to suppress the tears. But he didn't see them – she was stronger than she looked.

"And my sisters, these people, never judged me for it. Instead they felt bad for me, simply because I looked innocent. When really, I was a horrible, horrible person. He could've killed her and I wouldn't have cared because I couldn't think past my own needs." He let out a shallow breath.

"That's not the same as what I did," he said quietly. His words were cold, not broken like hers. But she shook her head, as if he had missed her point entirely.

"It's not about which is worse. It's just…why should you be judged when I wasn't? When I'm still not being held accountable for my actions?" He didn't know the answer to her question. Still, he wondered if she knew the severity of his actions – that almost marrying a man that could have done horrible things to her sister wasn't near as bad as intentionally leaving a dying girl in the middle of the woods. Certainly, there had to be a line when it came to forgiveness.

"Is she okay?" Eris asked quietly. His voice was raspy when he spoke, as if the question, three simple words, were painful to let out. Because she was his secret, his only secret, and he wasn't ready to speak about her. Not yet, at least.

"She's tired," Elain said honestly. "The blast hit her very hard. She's healing, but she's mostly dozing in her bed. The only person who she'll allow in is Rhysand." He blinked.

"I'm surprised. I would have thought she would at least allow the spymaster," Eris said, a hint of bitterness leaking into his words. Whether Elain caught it or not, she didn't react.

"No, because if she saw Azriel she would feel pressured to answer his questions, to confess her own secrets," Elain said, her voice quieter. "Secrets she had kept for the last five hundred years." Eris's lips pursed as he looked at her. The girl, though seemingly harmless, obviously knew more about Mor than most of the household. Whether it was because Mor confessed to her, or because Elain caught on quickly, her ability to keep secrets was admirable.

"If she wants to see you…" Elain said carefully, so very carefully. "If she wants to talk to you, do you want me to bring you to her?" He paused for a moment, unable to look at Elain in the case that disappointment filled her face.

"No," Eris snapped. "There's nothing to talk about."

~*~ discidium ~*~

"No…" Everybody was gone. Everybody. She had watched in slow motion as the High Lord of Night took hold of her last son like a rag doll, and leaving only whispering black shadows behind them. She felt like she wasn't even alive anymore – her body had grown heavy, so very heavy. Like she was a pile of bricks that was close to falling to the hard, marble ground.

But Magnus was holding onto her tightly. His arm was wrapped around her waist, pressing her up against him. If she didn't know how horrible of a person he truly was, she would've thought that he was trying to protect her from hitting the ground. But she could hardly move.

"Helion." It took a moment for her to find him, mixed within the scrambling of bodies and choking on the clogged dust that surrounded them. When her eyes found his body, mixed debris and dead men, she lurched forward. His eyes were closed, with blood running down his face.

"You killed him," she heard herself say aloud. It hadn't hit her yet – that he was dead. Gone, before she could even love him. "You-"

"He's not dead," Magnus purred soothingly in her ears. "He's just knocked out. I wouldn't do that to a High Lord. After all, he was just trying to protect you." Her head swung towards him. She was expecting to see coldness, the same coldness that etched across Beron's face for centuries, but she saw warmth. Odd, contradictory, warmth.

"We're going back to the Autumn Court," he said slowly, as if speaking to a scared child. "And I am going to wed you. I am going to wed you and you will be okay. And our family will rule the Autumn Court again." It took everything Eva had to not shrill how an incompetent, obscene moron he truly was. Instead, she allowed her face to harden.

"You can't take me to the Autumn Court," Eva replied, her voice identical. "Helion took a vow." Magnus held her gaze for a moment. The fierce look on his face unraveled.

"A vow? What do you mean a-" But then he noticed Helion's arm. His arm that had a swirling, beautiful tattoo wrapping upward to his elbow. Magnus's eyes widened and his skin paled.

"He made a bargain," Magnus said aloud, his words but a whisper. He looked down at her arm quickly, as if calculating something in his head. "But you don't have a tattoo. You didn't make a bargain." One of Eva's eyebrows went up innocently.

"I have no idea what he promised or who he promised it to," Eva said lightly. Innocently. But Magnus's eyes stayed fixated on her arm.

"If this was about you being incapable of stepping into the Autumn Court, about your actions, it would be on your arm. Which means, the bargain was really about him. It wasn't that you couldn't go into the Autumn Court, it was that he couldn't let you go into the Autumn Court. But he's knocked out. He can't stop you from anything right now." Hope began to flood over his face again as he unraveled the riddle, but she smirked.

"But he'll wake up," Eva continued for him. "And when he does, he'll use every man, every spy, and every ally he has, to get me back. So go ahead. Take me back to the Autumn Court. He'll be forced to invade the place if he finds that I was taken there."

He held her gaze tightly.

"If I were to take you back to the Autumn Court, he would have every reason to invade, but if I took you elsewhere, he would have no excuse." Her mouth dried, watching as his calculating eyes scanned her face. As if he was reading the answer right off her.

"I guess then, this means I have to call in a little friend. Don't let go."

She let out a whimper as he pushed into nothingness, away from her world and into another. She always hated winnowing – being between nothing and everything at the same time. But when he pushed her forward, she stumbled upon the blithering light and found herself on the carpet. She looked around, shielding herself from where the light was shining through – a large, mosaic window, vaguely creating the image of blossoming flowers and dancing women by jaggedly arranged colored glass. She heard a stifle around her as the surroundings began to clear. She was in a dining room that was for sure. With large vases carrying the most beautiful flowers and a magnificent table made out of aspen wood. She was entranced by the lingering smell of hibiscus when she met eyes with the man looming over her.

He was still planted in his seat. His blonde hair was straight and gleaming as he looked down at her, tickling the top of his collarbone. He was wearing a light, airy tunic that showed most of his chest, and warrior pants, with a range of knives on his belt. His green eyes flickered down at her, as if mildly curious at the Lady of Autumn's arrival at his feet. She gaped at him, trying to find an excuse, when she noticed he was using his dagger-like nails to butter the croissant in his hand.

"Tamlin."

~*~ discidum ~*~

It didn't occur to him until he snuck downstairs that maybe it hadn't been hours. That maybe Velaris, the beautiful city, was simply on its own schedule. The lights in the sky were different – not daylight, but not night light. He could see stars and the galaxy plainly, with swirls of what looked like dawn. But it wasn't dawn, he knew that at least. And he hadn't slept at all. Maybe Velaris was so foreign, so different in its beauty, that he didn't even know how to live in their time zone. How could he, when he was raised in hell?

After Elain had left him, he was restless. He realized he had stayed in his room obediently only because he was hoping that somebody would rescue him. Preferably his mother, if anyone. Rhysand had a soft spot for women, and he wondered if his mother walked through that doorway, if Rhysand would hand him over peacefully. But clearly, his mother was stuck in the same predicament he was.

The manor – a townhouse, Elain called it, was fitting. Eris never liked the miles-long manor that he was raised in. Everybody was so separated, so distant. It was impossible to be a family when he wouldn't see some of his brothers for days at a time. Of course, he never voiced it to his father whenever his father insisted on doing additional renovations. His mother wouldn't ever object as well, possibly because it meant a decrease in time that she had to spend with her husband. He hadn't realized how abnormal the situation was, and how he longed for something small, until he walked around the town house. There was an oil painting the size of a floor-to-ceiling window of their so-called family, laughing and smiling brightly. Other than that, everything was casual. Normal. Meaning, these people actually wanted to be around each other. And not just for power or training – in front of their fireplace in the living room was a game board and a tray of half-eaten appetizers. There were multiple shoes scurried across the living room. In the den, there were five to six half-painted canvases, some paintings far better than others. As if they had all decided to sit down and paint together.

And voices. Voices coming from the living room, so loud and rough that they hadn't even heard him tip-toeing through the house. He followed the voices carefully, only pausing when he found a nice, close corner to hide behind. They were sitting at a table – Rhysand's entire family. Though they were arguing, it was more like light bickering. Not a violent, dangerous argument that would have occurred in the Autumn Court.

"So, what you're saying is that Magnus isn't a good fit for the crown? That's definite?"

"He's a maniac," Cassian muttered. "We should have scouted further."

"I did," a cold voice interrupted. It brought chills down Eris's back. "For over a year, I scouted, Cassian."

"Nobody is blaming you, Az-"

"You don't need to." It wasn't until the spymaster cut her off did Eris realize that it was Mor who had tried to reassure him. Azriel's voice was filled with pure, raw disappointment. Maybe even shame. To the extent that Eris almost felt the pain in Azriel's voice, as it reminded him how many times he had felt the same exact way.

"It is not your fault," A firm, feminine voice repeated. Feyre. "Nobody could have predicted this. It was always a gamble."

"So, let them be," a spiteful voice snapped. It was like hearing sparks spit out of a fire. "It's not even our court. We have enough issues." He recognized the voice vaguely. He guessed it must have been Feyre's second sister – the angry one.

"We promised the mortal lands that we would keep things under control. Who else will do it? I would trust Helion, but if anything, he's the one I'm most worried about. We need to get Emmaline ba-"

"Eva," a voice muttered. "My mother's name is Eva. Not Emmaline." There was a silence.

"Eva," Rhysand repeated, his voice lighter than Eris expected. "Sadly, I think Magnus is right, if anything. Kidnapping her is just another reason for Helion to declare war, but she knows the Autumn Court. She can keep things calm, which also may make Helion hesitant to attack Magnus. I've met the woman. She has a…certain aura. I trust her to keep the Autumn Court in balance, even with Magnus looming. She might be better off there, with him, then here."

"It doesn't matter. If you use their marriage as a way for my mother to remain on the throne, Magnus will have more power than her," Lucien said back, his voice harsh. "There's many loopholes when it comes to the Autumn Court – hell, it was practically created on loopholes. But the one thing that is written in black, large letters is that a woman cannot sit on the throne. She cannot rule without a man. The only reason it's not explicitly against the rules to have a High Lady is because the men who built the Autumn Court couldn't even fathom the idea. So unless you're ready to sell out my mother to a psychopathic criminal, her ruling isn't an option."

"For fuck's sake, why can't we just put Lucien on the throne then?" Nesta snarled loudly. "Why is this even a conversation? It's like choosing what disease we want to plague the world with more – a professional rebel leader controlling a court with the third best military in Prythian or the asshat that tortured his own mate for five hundred years for shits and giggles." There was a hiss across the table, and it wasn't by Mor. Eris heard a ripple of bodies, but none of them said a word. There was a deep silence, probably ten to fifteen seconds, but when the next voice spoke, Eris's jaw tensed.

"You want to kill him, Nesta? Go ahead," Mor said lowly. Her voice was far from warm. Clearly, she wasn't having a good day. "But don't you ever associate him with me." Nothing in the house moved, but he could've sworn that after Mor's threat, the whole house stifled. It was like a brush of ice-cold wind swept in and made him lurch back. He never knew what power Feyre's sisters had, but clearly they were just as powerful as the rest.

"Careful," Rhysand said to both of them, his voice soft but firm. "I don't want to lose half of my house." Someone cleared their throat loudly.

"I think, what my precious fiancée was trying to convey was that, no matter Lucien's parentage, it could probably fly," Cassian interrupted, ignoring Nesta's low growl. "Nobody will notice if he's the rightful heir as long as he can play the part. I mean, come on, it's the Autumn Court. Nobody will even look twice." Eris tilted back with a jolt. So he knows he's Helion's son. And he hadn't confronted anyone about it.

"That was my original plan, but at this point, after what just happened, nobody would believe it," Rhysand said tiredly. "People will be skeptical at the crowning ceremony. I thought it would probably work if we say that the crowning ceremony happened elsewhere, but now that people are assuming that Eris is still alive…nobody would believe it. People feel it when a High Lord enters the room. Even in that pathetic hell-hole."

"And I don't want it if there's another option," Lucien added quickly. "The Autumn Court is not my home. It never has been and never was."

"Then what do we do?" Feyre said, exasperated. "Do we let him have Eva and trust that she'll take charge of the Autumn Court and save thousands of starving commoners, or do we steal her back for Helion's sake and let her live in peace in the Day Court?" Clearly, they were taking a vote. He inched back, knowing already what they would vote for, but then he felt a chill go down his neck.

"If you're going to take a vote, at least include the person who took the time to eavesdrop." Eris whirled around sharply, facing the little one that had always terrified him. Amren. Apparently, she hadn't been at the table. His eyes were round and wide. Normally, he would've had a cold remark, but he couldn't speak. There was no monster in her anymore, but she still had a terrifying gleam about her.

She pushed him lightly, and he fumbled back as if a snake had tried to bite him.

His eyes avoided Mor's gaze.

"Actually, we were going to talk about the predicament concerning you next," Rhysand replied easily, a dangerous smile spreading across his face. "But go on, since you're already in here."

"You were going to kill the rightful High Lord of Autumn?"

"Eris, you have no idea how replaceable you are." His words, now dead serious and without mirth, hung in the air for a moment. Eris could finally hear the anger, the disgust that now leaked out of Rhysand's tone. Despite Rhysand's tricks and games, Eris truly believed that his existence was on the table. Not just his position as High Lord, but his cold, beating heart. Why wouldn't it? He saw Rhysand's forbidden, sacred city. He had mocked, humiliated, and manipulated his best friend for five hundred years. Eris's death warrant was practically already signed.

"We made a deal, Rhysand." Eris's eyes hung onto his tightly. Rhysand sat up slowly, the whisps of blackness that swarmed his body, thickening. But Eris wasn't afraid of him. If anything, he realized that he didn't have anything to lose. There was even a point in the last twenty-four hours that he welcomed death with open arms, because he realized that he only had a few things worth living for, and if he couldn't get those then he didn't want to live at all.

"There's only a deal if I say there's a deal," Rhysand said through his clenched teeth, letting out a barked-like laugh. Eris, at that moment, could see the natural-born warrior that hid underneath Rhysand's skin. The man who would be just as successful on a battlefield as he was in politics. Even if Rhysand wasn't High Lord, he would still have enormous power. He would still be more terrifying than any of the other High Lords. "You brought your father on that battlefield at the last fucking moment. And, if you've failed to remember, your only request was for your father to die. You got what you wanted. I owe you nothing." Eris's lips pursed.

"My mother did nothing to you. Nothing. But why would the Night Court care, right? It's just another casualty. As long as your city is beautiful and safe, fuck the rest of the world. Who cares about the unneeded death and slaughter and misery?" His eyes found Feyre now. She was extremely still. Her body was upright, her hazel eyes darker than he had ever seen. She looked like she was ready to kill him – murder him with her own hands. And Rhysand, being her equal, would probably let her.

"Don't talk to me about death and slaughter when I nearly had to beg you to get on that battlefield," Feyre said, her voice sharp but low. "When you were ready to let all those mortals die." He swallowed.

"I wouldn't have," Eris said quietly. And this time, he was honest. More honest than he cared to admit. "You know I wouldn't have." He finally dared to look at The Morrigan. Looked dead at her, as her brown eyes nailed on him. She looked like she hadn't even blinked since he walked into the room. Unlike the rest of the group, who obviously were debating on killing him, he couldn't read her face. It was a mix of pain and anger and curiosity. As if she was tracing back every moment in the last five hundred years, just to justify that he was a horrible person.

"You visited me in your dreams. You were there. You saw me betray my father's demands, you saw me trying to find a way out of that castle," Eris said, his voice shivering now. "And, for just a moment, when I looked into the pitch black shadows before I was about to jump out of my bedroom window, I saw you looking dead at me. You stopped me because you saw Tamlin's men outside my tower. They would've probably thought I was trying to attack them if I jumped. You saved my life." Everybody turned to look at her. She didn't meet their eyes. None of them looked judgmental, but instead in shock. She didn't even breathe. But he noticed how her hands clutched the arms of her chair tightly.

"I thought you were a mortal who was getting attacked by the king's army," Mor replied coldly. "I didn't see your face. I couldn't see anyone's face. I just saw a man running, with a small army waiting outside his home. If I had known it was you, I would've let you die."

"I know," Eris said, his voice oddly quiet. "But you didn't, and without me-"

"Without Tamlin," Cassian interrupted briskly. "Tamlin, as you just pointed out, was the one who persuaded your father. Not you. You owe us." Eris's eyebrows rose.

"Fine. Send me Tamlin's way then – his useless ass would be more productive to work with than any of yours," Eris snarled. None of them seemed to care. If anything, he was just an annoying pest that kept squeaking at them.

"That," Rhysand said slowly, pointing at him as he spoke to the rest of the table, "That is an option."

~*~ discidium ~*~

Eva laughed. It was humorous, really, that the High Lord of Spring was in her presence now. What had it been? Less than seventy-two hours and now, four of the courts in Prythian were a part of this conflict? She had spent so many years locked in her estate, withering away, that she never imagined that she could cause such trouble. Beron would've died just at the thought.

"No." He said it immediately, before Magnus even opened his mouth. There was no humor flashing across his face like it was hers, nor anger like it was Magnus's. It was nothing – just a short no. Almost like he knew it was coming, he knew of the conflict already, he knew Magnus would come to him, and he wanted nothing of it.

"No?" Magnus repeated, his face rippling. "Tamlin-"

"Send her back to Helion's palace," Tamlin snarled suddenly. "And retreat to your hell hole. That is my advice. That is all I have to say." Eva took Mangus's moment of stammering to look around. The Spring Court was pretty – not beautiful, not amazing, pretty. Like a less overwhelming version of the Day Court, with a magnificent garden and light, comforting colors lighting up the dining room. Tamlin was still buttering his croissant stubbornly when Magnus and she scrambled off the floral carpet.

"Tamlin-"

"Or go anywhere, really, I don't really care," Tamlin continued, shrugging. "But Magnus, I am in a good mood. Nobody is bothering me, my court is flourishing, and my tomatoes are growing better than ever. Which means I'll forgive you for breaking into my court illegally while holding captive another High Lord's lover and conspiring horrible atrocities against your own people if you leave right now." Despite the long threat, Tamlin was far more casual than the Tamlin she knew. The previous one seemed stiff, territorial, while this one just wanted some peace and quiet. Like he had officially retired from his stiff throne and he wasn't planning on taking any unnecessary risks anytime soon.

"But, Tamlin, we are both victims of the same curse. Your dearest love had a tattoo that ruined her life. My love-"

"We are not the same," Tamlin snarled suddenly. He showed his clenched fangs. "Don't you dare compare us." It was enough to silence Magnus. Tamlin's face was red with anger, and half of his body was leaning out of his chair. But Eva only blinked at him. While he responded sharply, she was surprised that broken glass hadn't rained down on them that he hadn't rippled into a full-blown beast. She was surprised that Tamlin bared even moved.

"You've changed since the war," Eva said aloud. Tamlin's head went towards her sharply. His face tightened as he finally took her in as well – the Lady of Autumn who was now wearing the clothes of Day. He held her gaze warningly but when she didn't cower back, he gave a cold, low chuckle.

"Yes, Lady Eva, it's like I've turned a new leaf," Tamlin joked lightly, though there was a hint of mockery in his tone. Still, she blinked at him. Did the High Lord of Spring just try making a joke? "You have surprised me as well." Though the words were harmless, the tone was cold as ice. Like a bitterness, a spiteful anger, seeped into his words.

"My husband is dead," Eva said, her voice low. "I had no choice but to run to the Day Court." Tamlin's eyebrows raised.

"And, in doing so, you have put another name on the list of courts who have let Rhysand do whatever the hell he wants," Tamlin countered coolly. "But he will not touch mine." Again, Eva added. Because out of all of them, Rhysand touched the Spring Court the most. The Spring Court, if anybody, was more controlled by the Night Court than anyone.

"I'm sorry," Eva whispered. Tamlin's fierce look broke, one of his eyebrows elevating slowly at her.

"For what?" He asked flatly.

"I didn't feel bad for you. And I still don't, but I understand now," Eva said. Slowly, Tamlin's face grew colder and colder. "It must have been awful to have your court tainted by him – taking away all that you had left." The end of her sentence was filled with bitterness, holding a slight bite.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, quieter. When he held her gaze, it seemed like he was looking a million miles away.

"I need you to keep her until further notice," Magnus interrupted, not before clearing his throat loudly. Eva swung around and shot Magnus a wild look. Keep her? He made it sound like she was a pet that needed be watched. "Don't be a part of fixing her curse – fine. But this is neutral territory. If they find that she is here, they won't invade."

Tamlin rose from his chair.

"I am not a babysitter, Magnus," Tamlin hissed. "And I'm sure as hell not going to put my court in danger because the Spring Court is so-called 'neutral territory'. I have no desire to help you and your runts take over the Autumn Court."

"I helped you get into the Autumn Court," Magnus said through his clenched teeth. "Let's not forget that, Tamlin. If it weren't for me, and my runts, you would've never gotten to Beron and convinced him to fight." Tamlin's mouth closed shut tightly.

"Most of those Autumn Court men who bled and died were my men. Beron was just too stupid to notice," Magnus spat. "The Autumn Court did nothing. The Autumn Rebels saved your ass."

"Don't speak to me like that in my own home," Tamlin said, each word filled with venom.

"You owe me, Tamlin. And, you really aren't helping me do anything. You're merely letting me walk through your territory because you have no intention in being a part of this fight. You're just being peaceful," Magnus proposed. Tamlin's glare didn't falter.

"But you aren't trying to walk through my territory. You're trying to live at my estate," Tamlin countered dryly.

"I am not even going to be here," Magnus continued. "Eva is."

"I am not a babysitter."

"And how will the rest of the world see you if they found out I went across your estate, proposed that you gave sweet, lovely Eva refuge, and you declined because of a petty grudge?" Eva blinked. She was surprised how well Magnus could turn the conversation – that he could, somehow, find a way to make himself look right. Tamlin, on the other hand, looked ashen. He was trapped, trapped into this dilemma.

Because no matter what, Rhysand would be at his door sometime. It would be easier to explain that he let them in, made sure Eva was kept unharmed for as long as he could, and let them go peacefully, rather than allowing Magnus to put her through unneeded harm. It would, at least, make him look a bit better. Even if he was still useless.

"I'll allow it," Tamlin said finally. Eva had to stop herself from looking shocked. "But you don't get to stay here. I will not have you on my property. Do what needs to be done, come back, take her, and live out your long life without contacting me, Magnus." Each word was crisp. Carefully contained, but as cold as the Autumn Court itself.

Magnus leaned toward her, kissing her on the cheek quickly. She tripped away from him, cursing as she wiped away the imprint of his lips on her cheek.

"Until I see you again," he purred, before winnowing far, far away.

~*~ discidium ~*~

In the end, they agreed to delay their decision on his mother. Lucien urged them to make a decision immediately, but they had no choice but to wait. They had no idea where his mother was, what Magnus's next plans were, and how far they were willing to go with their plans in the first place. If they took a step now, it would only be a hazard.

"Can I get you anything?" The voice was tense, as if the speaker was unsure if she should be speaking to him. But when Eris turned around and met eyes with the servant – Nuala, they called her – he shook his head.

"Don't bother," Eris hissed coolly. Nuala's jaw tensed.

"The High Lord-"

"The High Lord can kiss my ass." She huffed at this. Even though she was no more than mist and shadow, darkness clouded her face. Clearly, she didn't take people being rude to her High Lord well, either.

"You're hear in good will," she said finally. "He is merciful to let you stay here." Eris's eyes flared. But the misty figure could care less – though she wasn't fae, she was a proud member of the Night Court. She didn't seem like someone who'd normally say something, but it was clear that she hated him. The misty figure was halfway in the wall when Eris replied.

"Is that what you said to Feyre when he humiliated her under the mountain? When he stripped her of her clothing and painted her intimate parts and watched as she slowly faded away?" Nuala wasn't used to other people's retorts – he could tell. Or maybe she wasn't accustomed to conflict in general.

"He did it for us." Eris blinked. He did it for us. Nuala took his silence as her moment to disappear, and he knew that she would certainly pass along this conversation to the spymaster, but even once she was gone, he was stuck staring at the wall stupidly. She said it as if every bad thing that Rhysand has done took a piece of his soul, and that it was always a sacrifice. Every monstrous thing, every horrible action, tore him bit by bit but it was for them. For his stupid court, for his stupid family. And he would do it over and over until he was nothing.

"You have got be kidding me." Eris spun towards the doorway. He didn't so much as breathe when he met eyes with the opposing figure.

He was shorter than he remembered. But he did look different – his hair was cropped and stuck to his forehead like wet paint, his eyes were like two dark, empty pools of nothingness, he was pale – pale like the corpse he once was.

"They said we hadn't had a proper introduction," the man drawled. "They never said I was stuck with a coward." Eris forced a smirk. Still, he didn't think his people would send a human to get him out of here.

"Jurian," Eris's voice was leaking of arrogance. "As much as I appreciate your help, I'm looking for someone a bit more experienced. No offense, but you can't take on the Night Court – let alone Magnus." There was a beat of silence before the general bursted into cackling laughter, his laughs ringing against the townhouse so suddenly that the townhouse creaked. Eris's smirk collapsed immediately.

"You think I'm here to help you?" Jurian sneered. Still, his dark eyes were dancing. "More like I was beckoned over here to pick you the fuck up. Congratulations, dumbass. You've been evicted."

~*~ discidium ~*~

"Lock the doors and don't let anyone in or out." At first, Eva was puzzled at who Tamlin was speaking to – the mansion was eerily empty, but then she saw the few sentries form in her view, scrambling to lock everything. She watched as green waves leaked over the mansion, as if it was thick liquid coating the estate. Once the liquid touched the grass, a silver spark flickered and the entire green veil disappeared. Clearly, as Eva met Tamlin's glimmering green eyes, he was doing the magic. He cared to protect his court, his people. Whoever still lived on the grounds, at least.

Despite the Autumn Court's solitude, the rumors of the Spring Court had reached their court as well. The last they heard, the Spring Court was a dump. According to the whispers from spies and gossip from other courts, the palace had been ran over by overgrown vines and not a single light glowed. The population had decreased even more significantly than it had during the war, as many of his people continued to flee. She even heard a rumor that Rhysand frequently walked onto the grounds without an invitation, and Tamlin hadn't even batted an eye.

But the palace seemed…like it was healing. The grass wasn't as green as it once was, there was a slight tint of brown amongst the fields, but green areas were starting to form. The flowers were beginning to bloom, the mansion didn't appear unusually dirty. There was a lack of sentries, and the quietness was unnerving, but even at a distance she saw a few common fae farming on the rolling hills. The palace was once dead, that was certain, but Tamlin was now healing and the Spring Court was bound to heal with him.

"You must help him," Eva said, looking at Tamlin sharply. He blinked at her. "Helion is in trouble. Magnus-"

"Is not my issue," Tamlin finished, following with a snort. "None of this is my issue." She huffed at him.

"What are you talking about? Magnus is going to destroy this entire continent if you-"

"I have formally decided to exclude myself from Prythian politics," Tamlin interjected. "This is as far as I'll go with this…conflict. If you wish to dine with me, you are welcome to do so, though." He gestured to the seat next to him. Her eyebrows went up slowly.

"You have formally excluded yourself from Prythian politics?" Eva repeated slowly. "You run a court! You can't just stop international relations simply so you can grow your-your stupid tomatoes and personal growth! You are a High Lord!" She expected for Tamlin to at least tense up, for his pointed claws to lengthen, but he ignored her banter.

"If I learned anything in the last few months it's that there has to be some change on how I run things," Tamlin countered. "And saying as my…demise…has always been due to international relations, why should I insist on communicating with other courts? Fixing their issues? You'll find that the world is quite prosper when you pretend that the other courts don't exist." The anger roaring inside her lessened. Her eyes lingered outside again, analyzing the healing land. Healing, but not flourishing. Not as rich as the Night Court, or even the Day Court. It is survivable at best.

"Well, then, my stay will not benefit either of us," Eva said highly. "I think, it's in both of our best interests, if you send me back to the Day Court so that I'll be out of your hair." It was at least an attempt to getting Tamlin to let her go. Surely, he would be merciful to her, even if Magnus wouldn't.

"I can't give you back to Helion," Tamlin stated, whilst taking a bite of bacon. "If Magnus does manage to take over the Autumn Court, which there is a grand chance he will, then he would declare me as an enemy of the Autumn Court immediately just for returning you to your love."

"And not helping him now is getting you on his good side?" Eva prodded. Tamlin took a deep breath.

"There is a difference between declaring that you will not take a side and refusing to help him by assisting his enemy," Tamlin explained. "I cannot do it."

"Show me the way, then. I can make it there myself."

"You won't make it," Tamlin answered sharply. "You wouldn't be able to survive the trip on foot. Not unless you winnow, which I assume you can't do." Her eyes narrowed on him. She did, in fact, know how to winnow, but lately her powers had…faded. Her ability to conjure fire had lessened, and she hadn't been able to winnow since her husband had been taken.

"It's because your husband has died. Beron, whether you may like it or not, made you stronger," Tamlin explained impatiently. "And now, without that source…without, Beron…your body is struggling to adjust." She closed her eyes for a moment, taking that in. That she had spent so much of her time with Beron, dedicated her body to him, that now her ability to survive by herself has plummeted.

"So what are you going to do with me?" She whispered.

"Huh?" She opened her eyes. He looked like she had just spoken another language.

"Well, what are you going to do with me? You aren't going to help me get to Helion, and I'm going to assume that you have no interest in contacting the Night Court and seeing if they'll take me," Eva muttered. "Magnus is in a coma. What are you going to do with me?"

"Nothing. Roam the castle for as long as you need, I'll give you whatever I can to make your stay tolerable, but there are limitations that I can't break," Tamlin said. "I can give you paper and a writing utensil to write to whoever you need to explain the situation. But I cannot assist you. You have to understand that. You're better off staying here. I'll make sure you'll be treated well."

"And if my son comes looking for me? Will you let him in?" Eva asked. Her question was hollow, only because she knew that nobody else would go after her. Only Eris, her last son, would bother going this far to save her.

Tamlin snorted.

"Your son is in the Night Court now, Eva. You don't want him to look for you. He is too far gone." Gone. On the contrary, Feyre wasn't so bad. The Night Court didn't make her a worse person. If anything, she became cleverer – stronger. But Eva couldn't argue. The Night Court did in fact change people, they made them turn their back on their families. On their court. It wasn't a secret that everybody in the inner-circle resented their original home. She wouldn't be surprised if Eris turned against his court too, now that he saw how much better the Night Court was.

"How long will I be here? Do you have an estimate to when Magnus will come back?" Eva was expecting to say a few days, a few weeks.

"You aren't a priority to the Night Court. Maybe to Lucien, maybe to Eris, but you aren't an immediate priority to the Night Court's safety. And Magnus? It'll take him a while to accomplish what he wants, and he isn't going to risk your safety before his reign is stable," Tamlin said carefully. "This won't be a fast battle like it was against Hybern. Nobody wants ultimate destruction like Hybern did– Magnus is a threat to the Night Court, but he doesn't plan on striking tomorrow, if ever. Rhysand knows that Magnus is going to build up his resources again. He's going to take his time. Even the Autumn Court isn't in a rush. And, in the end, Rhysand will take as much time as Magnus is willing to give him. You are not in immediate danger." She took a step towards him.

"How long will I be here?" She said again, but this time as a growl. His eyes flashed but he merely gritted his teeth.

"Years…decades," Tamlin said quietly. She almost heard sympathy in his voice. "I'll try to speed this up, Eva, but you forget that we are eternal. Getting rid of Amarantha took forty-nine years. It's not like we'll die of old age waiting for this war to begin and end."

~*~ discidum ~*~

"They would have just sent you to the Court of Nightmares if you hadn't tried becoming allies with those morons," Jurian spat at him. "Could you hurry up?" It was hard not to stare at the buzzing city, the beautiful colors, the merry people. Everybody was smiling – and there were children, more children than he had ever seen in one area. The fact that his people could reproduce so easily, so effortlessly, showed how well-off they really were. The average building went up five to six stories, as if the entire city itself was built on prosperity. The common people wore clothes just as fine and rich as his own, and the dazzling apartments were far prettier than anything he had ever lived in. Shops filled with items that would have never sold in the Autumn Court, prospered. This wasn't a city, this was a dream.

"Don't tell me they have a prison here," Eris drawled sarcastically. "It would ruin the aesthetic." Though Eris's words were loud enough for Jurian to hear them, Jurian pretended he hadn't said a word. Instead, he continued to strut in front of him briskly. People glanced at them as they rushed through the streets, taking sharp turns through dark alleys and hissing at each other like bickering siblings.

"Where are we even going?" Eris growled. "If you aren't leading me to my court-" Jurian stopped suddenly, letting out a bark of laughter. Though Eris's facial expression didn't change, his face grew whiter.

"You think I'm going to your court? You think I'm here to take you to the death-ridden, corpse-filled, rotten court? You aren't even leaving Velaris," Jurian chuckled. "You're staying here, working with me." Eris's eyebrows furrowed.

"Working with you? While using my skills to assist the Night Court sounds dashing, I think my-" But then Jurian rolled his eyes dramatically, spinning away from him and continuing his brisk pace. Eris let out a groan as he sped up to Jurian hurriedly.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a knot, Eris. You may even enjoy the job," Jurian said, giving a crooked smile. Eris's eyes narrowed on him.

"And why would Rhysand want me to assist in Night Court affairs?" Eris asked. "Unless he's looking for an ambassador from the Autumn Court." Jurian snorted.

"Oh, this isn't Night Court affairs," Jurian corrected. "This is my affair. Rhys's request is far more boring. I'm sure he wouldn't mind me…changing some of your duties if you're quiet about it." Eris didn't even blink at him.

"So, really, Rhysand doesn't know about this at all."

"Nope, and unless you want to be working in the sewers until your hands are covered with so many blisters that you can't count your own fingers, like he originally told me to watch over you at, then I'd take up the offer," Jurian said, his face cold now. "Unless you want to be spending your days six feet under cleaning the city's sewer?" By the look on Eris's face, Jurian already had his answer.

"Good, then you'll keep quiet about this, I suppose. In return, I'll treat you like a normal human being. If not, your stay here in Velaris will go downhill very, very fast and I'll make sure that you spend so much time in the sewers that weeks will go by without seeing the sky." And as Jurian stopped in front of grey building, staring at it like it was his next masterpiece, Eris's eyes ran down him. Jurian was an outsider, just like him. He didn't know what brought Jurian to the city, and why Rhysand was forcing him to be his watchdog, but he knew he'd rather be following Jurian than doing anything in those nasty sewers. He could probably spin this in his advantage. Maybe.

"So what work are we doing, exactly?" Eris asked. And then Jurian smiled like an animal hunting for prey.

~*~ discidium ~*~

He was still as stone. His eyes glossed over her, looking at her head to toe slowly and, for the first time, without constraint. There was nothing not risqué about her – she was wearing a short, dark dress that barely touched the upper half of her thigh, with long, dark heels that could do serious damage if used as a weapon. The dark dress had a deep plunge that didn't end until far past her chest. Her hair was in large, delicate curls and her eyes were glittering against the moonlight that lit up the living area. She was beautiful – absolutely, terrifyingly beautiful. Morrigan was already naturally beautiful, but this was intentional. Deliberate beauty so deep that even if he did actually hate her, he wouldn't be able to deny the attraction that he now felt. He couldn't deny that she was quite possibly the prettiest woman he had ever seen.

It was like a dream, he thought as he fought the feeling to reach for her. To touch her, to seduce her like he had done a million times in his dreams. To run two fingers down her soft skin and make her shiver, while at the same time cocooning her against his body. To feel the warmth underneath her short dress, for her to run burning kisses down his body. To hear her angelic voice moan and beg and plead. For him to feel something, something for the first time in five hundred years. She was really there, in his living room, waiting for him to leave his bedroom in the middle of the night. Without anybody watching, without anybody in earshot, without any witnesses to the sins that he was dying to commit – the secrets that could change everything.

But she was not here to play and this was not a dream.

"Eris," she greeted. He didn't even blink at her as she gave him a small, red-lipped smile. He couldn't take a step towards her. His whole body was too focused on being controlled – trying to silence his desires, even though they were roaring in his mind.

He wanted to be arrogant. He wanted to be so audacious that she couldn't look at him. He wanted her to be disgusted by him, to be repulsed. Just so that she would leave and never, ever come back. But he was so tired. He had lost everything – everything that mattered, and yet he was still being punished. All he could muster was, "Morrigan."

"I see that Rhys has given you a…generous stay," she said carefully, a hiss at the end of her sentence. Generous. She wasn't wrong – it was a nice two-bedroom apartment, a kitchen, and a decent view. Though it was probably the worst apartment in the entire city, it was far better than anything in the Autumn Court.

"It's Jurian's apartment, not mine. Don't be silly enough to believe that I'd take anything from you lot," Eris replied impatiently. His eyes fixated on the window stubbornly. "I would think its well past your bedtime, Morrigan. Is there any practical reason why you're lounging here in the middle of the night or is this a new hobby of yours? If it is, I would prefer for you to at least have the courtesy to wear some half-decent clothes. Believe it or not, not every man wants to see that." The last part of his comment hung in the air half-heartedly, as if they both knew that he felt quite the opposite. Suddenly, he wished he hadn't pointed out the dress at all. Because just by the look in her eyes, he could tell that she had got what she wanted. To get a rise out of him.

She puckered her lips as she dismissed his comment. Her attention, now disinterested in his presence entirely, focused on her perfectly-colored nails.

"I came here to give you some guidelines for this city." Finally. The second shoe was going to drop – he would finally know what the Night Court wanted from him. No more secrets, no more trickery. He would finally know why he was still here, living and breathing.

Suddenly, he was very, very awake.

"Go on," he purred. Her eyes flickered at him.

"You will not leave Jurian's view at all, at any moment during any day. If you do, you're dead," she said slowly. "When the Inner Circle beckons, you go to us immediately. If you don't, you're dead. You are forbidden from speaking to anyone outside the city, or anyone inside the city who has any ill perceptions of our High Lord and High Lady. You are to do as we say whenever we say it, without questions, demands, or protest. If you provoke a fight in our city, physical or verbal – you will be executed. If you show any disrespect towards our people, even lack a single please or thank you, your body will be given to Azriel. If you even speak of the conflict with Magnus and the outside world beyond this living room, your head will be sent to your mother's new lover. And, lastly, you are nobody. You are not the High Lord of Autumn. You are not Beron's son, you're not an heir, and you are not anyone special. You are Jurian's. That's all you are until we decide what to do with you. Eris Vanserra doesn't even exist." There was a quietness between them as Eris digested her words. He wasn't surprised, not even angry at her demands. If anything, he was expecting worse. They were allowing him to roam the city? To speak to their people? To live like a normal citizen? The mercy was too great for him to believe.

"And none of you are going to check up on me? Make sure I'm not plotting some diabolical plan? Bullshit." Eris snorted. And then she smiled. A wicked, wicked smile. A smile that would make most fae shudder.

"Because I'm the proxy of the Court of Nightmares, and you have been so earnest in keeping relations with my father, I will be checking in regularly to make sure nobody gives you trouble." Evil, evil little thing. She wasn't doing this because she wanted to look after him, she was doing it because she wanted him to know that they would never be allies. She had the power against him forever. At any moment, at any time, she could kill him without any repercussions easily. She wanted to terrify him. And more than that, she wanted to make sure he knew that he would never be able to manipulate her – he would never be able to use the bond to get himself out, because she would never let her guard down. There would be no room for forgiveness.

"You look like you might be sick, Eris. Are you okay?" The delight in her voice was nauseating.

"Come on, Morrigan. Don't you think this feud has gone on for a bit too long? Especially now that we're practically neighbors?" He asked silkily. But his tone didn't hide the desperation behind his words. Desperate for her to walk out and never look at him again. Maybe he'd run into her occasionally on the street and he'd have to tolerate her glares, or be called into Rhysand's townhouse to be mocked and belittled ever so often, but he didn't want this. He didn't want to be reminded of her hatred every day.

"What did you expect?" She drawled as she picked at her nails. "For me to just let it go?" He opened his mouth stupidly, but he didn't know how to reply so she continued. "Or did you expect me to go head over heels? To forgive you? To think you are any less than scum simply because of an evolutionary reaction? Do you want me to fall into your arms, Eris, is that it?" He almost laughed. Her voice was cruel, but her questions were certainly not rhetorical. Maybe she was curious about what he did and didn't know when it pertained to the bond but didn't have the nerve to directly ask, or maybe she was just taunting him because she knew, deep down, that this had to be affecting him – either way, it wasn't a conversation he wanted to be a part of.

"You want to fall into my arms, go ahead, Morrigan," Eris said, not skipping a beat. "But don't expect me to catch you. Because I won't." She stopped picking her nails and looked up at him slowly. It wasn't that she expected him to secretly be in love with her, he knew that, it was the coldness that seeped out of his words. That he deeply, truthfully, didn't want her in the littlest, even if it they weren't enemies. But, despite his honesty, she looked at him darker than she had when he walked into the room. Like now, those words had made him regress ten steps when it came to his self-worth.

"What? You thought I really cared enough to change you? To truly push you into being the person you secretly want to be like Phillip had? Hoping that I had some sort of magical excuse that erases what I did to you just so you can prove to everybody, Rhysand especially, that you are capable of finding love? To prove that you are more than Rhysand's servant?" Eris went on, letting out a small laugh. "I am not a mother bird, Morrigan. I am not going to push you out of the nest. You'll have to do that all by yourself, like a big girl." She held his gaze for a moment, the seconds lengthening. And that's what she had mated with – a man who didn't care. Who not only didn't desire her, but could truthfully care less what happened to her. It was a lie, it was all a lie, and he could've easily said something more dismissive, but he wanted to make sure that she wouldn't get anything out of having this conversation. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. He sold his soul to become the man he was, to surpass all the obstacles people swore he'd never survive. To get to him, she would have to do the same.

"I look forward to speaking to you tomorrow," she said finally. There was no smile on her lips. "Sweet dreams."

~*~ discidium ~*~

The place was trashed. Windows were broken, doors were in shreds, and the once-beautiful hallways were unlit and decorated with old blood stains. There were only a handful of sentries lingering around – more than she thought he had initially, but not enough to protect the estate if someone were to attack. It was probably the reason why Tamlin didn't stand his ground against Magnus – he didn't have the resources to win a fight if Magnus did decide to attack him. The Spring Court was in fact slowly healing, but Tamlin couldn't fix this place by himself.

"I can't stay here for years," Eva told him. The sun was dimming now and at a distance, she could hear the nocturnal Spring Court creatures begin to awaken. She hadn't spoken in hours, she felt like she was frozen in time. She had silently accepted a tour of the estate once Tamlin saw the horror on her face. Two, maybe three hours, had gone by as Tamlin showed her every room, every broom closet, that inhabited the Spring Court estate. She assumed he was being gracious because he didn't want her having a mental breakdown, but he didn't understand. She was Beron's pet for years, centuries even, and she was tired of being a victim of other men's actions.

"That's your first sentence in hours," Tamlin said with slight humor, his eyebrows perked up. "This is my father's daughter's room. She died at the age of five, and because she was illegitimate, she spent most of her time in the lower levels of the castle. I don't-"

"I don't care," Eva said suddenly. "I don't care about your siblings, or who decorated what room, or where your favorite hiding places were as a child. I want out." Finally, Tamlin froze. They had already been through this conversation and how he could not assist her, and at first she was okay with the answer because she believed that Magnus would be back in a few days, but when Tamlin said it would be years…

"Forgive me, Eva," Tamlin said, a coldness in his tone. "But where do you think you'll end up when Magnus comes back? Do you think he'll be merciful to you? Do you think he'll give you back to Helion on the weekends?" She didn't know. She had barely even thought of Helion. She couldn't…it hurt too much. And not only that, but she knew that Helion wouldn't fight for her. He would want to, it would nearly kill him not to fight for her, but he wouldn't. He couldn't risk his resources on a widow who practically belonged to someone else. He couldn't go to war over a woman.

"I can't just give up on my child," Eva said quietly. "Eris is my child, Tamlin." And for a second, she saw a glisten of sympathy. A brokenness that he understood.

"You're talented," Tamlin admitted evenly. "Practical, knowledgeable, even a bit calculating. But more than that, you care. You care fiercely. I could give you a job here, Eva. You could work for me. I will treat you as an employee, as a member of my court. And while doing that, we can talk about Eris. Depending on if you can prove that you are trustworthy, that is." She held his tight gaze for a moment before giving out a laugh.

"I'm not asking for your permission, Tamlin," Eva said, her smile not quite matching her eyes. Tamlin let out a low snarl.

"I just offered you a position at my court-"

"So that I would stop fighting for Eris! Because everyone thinks that he is not worth saving."

"Yeah, and so what? Are you saying I'm wrong? Are you saying that your son isn't a psychopath?" His words echoed against the hollow estate and she was silent for a moment. She could feel her face burn, as if he had slapped her. Very few people had ever entered this territory with her, directly asking her about why her children were psychopaths, but he had. The High Lord of Spring decided that he was worthy of an explanation.

"I don't owe you anything," she said slowly, clipping each word. "Nothing." Tamlin was still for a second and then let out a small laugh.

"Is it so bad for the Cauldron to ask you to fight for something else?" Tamlin snapped. "I'm giving you an opportunity to live, to remake yourself, and you keep bringing up your son. I'm sorry he is gone, I truthfully am, but out of all of them…why is he the one you're fighting for? Lucien was taken by the Night Court too. Yet, you insist on fighting for the one who is the least likely to be good. You have to see why I can't allow that." So much, so many accusations. So many questions, so many holes that he was opening. And for what? Did he really want an explanation?

"Why do I love Eris more than the rest? Almost as much as Lucien?" Eva repeated with a sigh. "Because he called on you, Tamlin. When he saw Lucien was about to die, he called on you. Eris would have never saved any of my other sons, but he would save Lucien. Not that it made him a good person – saving Lucien doesn't erase his faults. But he saw how much Lucien loved that poor girl. It was like he realized that Lucien had a shot at being normal, like he empathized with Lucien's soft heart, and maybe even envied it, so he saved him." There were many emotions on Tamlin's face – sadness, shock, maybe even a little bit of resentment. She could tell that not only did speaking about Lucien hit a hard spot, but he clearly didn't know what Eris did. He had gotten the warning that Lucien needed help anonymously, he didn't know it was Eris who sent it.

"Lucien was…good," Tamlin murmured carefully. "He was never an inconvenience. He helped – even when there was nothing to do, he still helped. He didn't seek refuge here, Eva. I sought refuge in him in a time where refuge didn't exist. And if you're saying that the reason Lucien was with me was due to Eris's actions, then that means…I owe him." Her eyes glistened.

"What are you saying, Tamlin?" Eva whispered. Tamlin's face tightened.

"We are getting Eris back."

~*~ discidium ~*~

Holy shit. I just finished that. That was twenty-two pages. I deserve some reviews.