“I want to train.” Feyre’s voice drifted over to me as she came back to the room after she’d woken and left to change for the day. Her face was resolute. “With you - I mean,” she said and folded her arms.

Dawn had barely crested outside our window. And it was an icy cold morning.

Regardless, I snapped my fingers and wondered what had wormed into her mind that she suddenly didn’t find my request to train her so repulsive anymore.

My clean suit vanished, replaced by Illyrian fighting leathers. Thick snow boots appeared at Feyre’s feet along with a bow and quiver of arrows. I summoned my own sword and strapped it to my back as Feyre took a deep breath and started working on the boots, casually ignoring the weapons I’d given her.

I had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before we’d both be in need of them.

When she’d finished, I extended my hand and we winnowed outside into the snow, which crunched beneath our boots as we entered the thick of trees surrounding the estate.

The wind nipped cold at my nose. And even though these forests smelled of Feyre, there was a dull, lifeless stillness to the way they sat unfriendly and unwelcome at our advance.

“Freezing my ass off first thing in the morning isn’t how I intended to spend our day off,” I told her.  “I should take you to the Illyrian Steppes when we return - the forest there is far more interesting. And warmer.”

Feyre crinkled her nose. “I have no idea where those are. You showed me a blank map that one time, remember?”

“Precautions.”

“Am I ever going to see a proper one, or will I be left to guess about where everything is?”

First the training, now the map, and all of it so demanding and unapologetic. Where - had this woman come from today?

“You’re in a lovely mood today,” I said stopping in a small clearing. A map unfolded between us, this time the names of cities written across it. “Lest you think I don’t trust you, Feyre darling...”

But Feyre was glued to the map considering, trying to understand. It was hard not to think what she might have done if her family had bothered giving her a real education. She was a focused, intent pupil.

“These are the Steppes,” I explained, guiding her through the northern lands. “Four days that way on foot will take you into Illyrian territory.”

Feyre’s brow furrowed as she understood and then seemed to recoil away slightly, uncomfortable. Her eyes flitted south on the map towards other courts and her face went very solemn.

I nearly split the Spring Court in two vanishing the map away. “Here,” I said. “We’ll train here. We’re far enough now.”

Far enough to keep the other safe lest Feyre lose control.

And far enough that anyone lurking about in the all too silent woods might get cozy enough to want to come a little nearer and see what they might make of Feyre.

I had to know.

I summoned a candle and held it to her. “Light it, douse it with water, and dry the wick,” I instructed.

Feyre stared at the candle like it were a giant question mark upon paper.

“I can’d do a single one of those things,” she informed me hotly. “What about physical shielding?”

Red paints.

A flash of blonde hair and green eyes.

And an explosion before air had cocooned around her and kept her from... what, what would Feyre have met that day had her body not taken over for her?

“That’s for another time,” I said. “Today, I suggest you start trying some other facet of your power.” Something simpler and less pleasantly connected to the High Lord she feared. “What about shape-shifting?” I offered, to drive the point in.

Feyre leveled a hard gaze at me. “Fire, water, and air it is.”

She took the candle from me and stepped back. I waited, but Feyre didn’t keep long to the candle before her eyes were snaking over me from the ground up, following my legs up to my hips before the broad expanse of stomach and chest over which I’d crossed my arms.

And finally, across my wings. She avoided my face altogether.

And she... wasn’t afraid.

“Maybe you should... go,” Feyre said, swallowing.

I had to go. We needed to see who was going to attack first, but I suddenly didn’t want to anymore.

“Why? You seemed so insistent that I train you,” I teased. I didn’t really expect much to come of that, but -

“I can’t concentrate with you around.” Feyre stepped back still eyeing my chest, my neck. Heat flared down the knots of my stomach in a low growl as the lightest trace of - fuck, arousal hit me.

She - is she? Does Feyre actually -

“And go... far,” she said. “I can feel you from a room away.”

Delicious. Absolutely delicious.

I could do a lot from a room away. Twenty rooms, even.

A feline grin split my face and Feyre scowled, her disapproval and perhaps a slight twinge of something else evident.

“Why don’t you just hide in one of those pocket realms for a bit?” she asked, looking away.

“It doesn’t work like that. There’s no air.” Feyre gave me a pointed look - Then that’s exactly where you should be . I laughed. A room without air was probably exactly what I needed if she was going to keep looking at me that way, like she not only didn’t mind the person in front of her rippling with Night and power, but that she... liked what she saw.

Shit - I wanted to stay.

“Fine,” I said, willing the words into existence. “Practice all you want in privacy. Give a shout down the bond if you get anything accomplished before breakfast.”

Feyre lifted her hand, examining the eye etched upon her palm. “What - literally shout at the tattoo?”

Her fingers curled around the design, and I swore I could almost feel the touch it sent between us along that tether we shared.

I stepped close and breathed, “You could try rubbing it on certain body parts and I might come faster.”

I winnowed, just in time to miss the cock of her arm as she prepared to hurl the candle at me, but as I landed back inside our shared room imagining all the places that hand might touch, I could have sworn I felt a low groan of amusement from down the bond.

Before breakfast, I made sure to attend to a particularly cold shower.

---

“What - no biting words of welcome this morning, Ms. Archeron?” Cassian’s grin was borderline indecent as we sat down for breakfast. Nesta poured tea without so much as a glance.

“It’s no wonder fae have such a horrid reputation for being incorrigible dogs with the way you flaunt yourself about,” Nesta finally said. She’d taken her usual seat at the head of the table.

She passed a cup of tea to Elain, and then herself, but none other. Cassian made sure to take the pot up next.

“Dogs we may be,” Cassian said, “but you’ll find that even the dogs have their uses, Nesta.”

She spared him a glance and Cassian winked wickedly. “I’m really more of a cat person and I think I prefer Ms. Archeron from you.”

Cassian lit up brighter than the sun. “Ooh, pet names-”

“Let’s not,” Azriel cut in, taking the tea pot from Cass and pouring himself a cup. He added no extra cream or sugar. It did little to abate the early morning arousal Cassian gave off. Azriel and I shared a look.

Elain looked painfully uncomfortable.

I had no right to judge really. My shower had been far too long. But Cassian and Nesta... Feyre might truly self-combust.

Feyre.

Holding that candle tighter and tighter against the palm of her tattoo, squeezing it and clenching and not unlike what I’d done in the -

Azriel cleared his throat loudly enough that I looked up from my plate in time to clear the wisps of darkness that had risen off my hands. His brow rose.

And I ignored it.

I reached for a slice of bread and some cherry jam to spread over it when a flat piece of paper winked into its place on my still clean plate. Everyone at the table stopped to stare at it, greatest of all Nesta.

I’m bored. Any sparks yet?

My message was written neatly across the top of the page, left behind in Feyre’s pack for her find at some point when she grew restless trying to summon a spark of flame.

And beneath it -

No, you snoop. Don’t you have important things to do?

The pen clattered to my plate. I was fairly sure Nesta made a comment that had Cassian reeling once more, but I ignored it and wrote back.

I’m watching Cassian and Nesta get into it again over their tea. Something you subjected me to when you kicked me off training. I thought this was our day off.

The paper vanished.

I looked up and found Azriel watching me in silent amusement over his cup of tea. And it was so like what Mor would have done because of course he knew what game I was playing.

Judgmental shadowsinging prick.

Feyre’s reply came quickly: Poor baby High Lord. Life is so hard .

I smiled, Cassian well distracting Nesta and even Elain by now, and grabbed the pen. This was fun .

With her. With Feyre.

I hadn’t had innocent fun like this for... a long time.

So I told her.

Life is better when you’re around. And look at how lovely your handwriting is .

You’re a shameless flirt .

I was halfway through jotting down just how shameless I could be when Feyre’s shields split, the chasm opening before us for a an icy blast of fear to fall through.

‘Stop, or I snap your neck.’ was all I heard before I looked at my brother and barked, “ Azriel, ” and winnowed to Feyre.

And the Attor.

---

“Good,” it said at Feyre’s ear, it’s grip around her neck not unlike how Amarantha had held her. All previously sensuous thoughts flew out of my head replaced by the wrath of Night. “Now tell me-”

Darkness ensnared him, his fevered shrieks piercing the morning air and filling that horrid silence of the woods with despair.

My powers flew out of me, the damper completely released in those seconds. And it searched and it searched until it had wrapped around the Attor in thick, constricting bands that showed no mercy. When the dark cleared, Feyre was in a low crouch on the ground, a knife drawn, and the Attor was flailing against a tree where the Darkness continued to pin him.

“I’d been wondering where you slithered off to,” I said to him.

The Attor tried to shimmy free, but I shot its wings with arrows of lightning, locking him in place. Silver blood dripped from the cuts almost as disgusting as the Attor’s pitiful screams.

Feyre stood and looked as though she very much did not mind.

“Answer my questions, and you can crawl back to your master,” I said.

“Whore,” the thing spat. We could have been back Under the Mountain.

Without hesitation, I reached for the open hole gushing silver blood and flashed him the devil’s smile. “You forget that I rather enjoy these things.”

“ No!” it screamed. “I was sent to get her.”

My finger paused. “Why?”

“That was my order. I am not to question. The king wants her.”

Hybern .

Of course he’d fled Amarantha and retreated back to his true master upon her death. It wasn’t that surprising really. But he knew more than he was willing to say.

“Why?” I took a further step closer revolted by his horrid discolored skin and letting him damn well feel how revolted I was. Power slid from my skin like water.

“ Don’t know, don’t know, don’t know. ”

My voice dropped, commanding his tongue. He was going to be easy to break. “Where is the king currently?”

“Hybern.”

“Army?”

“Coming soon.”

“How large?”

“Endless. We have allies in every territory, all waiting.”

Which meant even the Night Court was fallible. I’d prepared myself to learn our weaknesses as a court since birth, and the weaknesses of the Night Court were many riddled with prejudice and backwards thinking from within, but I hated to hear it all the same.

Azriel landed silently in the snow behind me. The Attor’s eyes went wide as he took in the Illyrian and Truth-Teller at his hip and the wings like my own that I’d never shown the cretin during our tenure in Amarantha’s court. His body shook.

Azriel and I traded places and it was then that I finally saw how pale Feyre had gone.

“The next time you try to take her,” I said, “I kill first; ask questions later.”

I signaled for Azriel to move. His scarred hands gripped the Attor, still chained in darkness that would follow them through the wind and folds of the universe, and then they disappeared on a wave of Azriel’s power.

“Will he kill him?” Feyre stared at the spot Azriel had vacated, her attention more on the shadowsinger’s calculating, deadly gleam than the beast that had been spiked against the tree.

“No.” Feyre shuddered. “We’ll use him to send a message to Hybern that if they want to hunt the members of my court, they’ll have to do better than that.”

Now that the Attor was gone, the anger - the wrath seeped properly into my mind. I wanted to kill the king for this, for hunting down my mate. War no longer seemed an adequate enough excuse to tear him limb from limb next to this.

“You knew,” Feyre said, stepping away from me. “You knew he was hunting me?”

“I was curious who wanted to snatch you the first moment you were alone,” I admitted, and readied for her venom.

“So you never planned to stay with me while I trained. You used me as bait -”

“Yes, and I’d do it again. You were safe the entire time.”

Let her hate me for it. The attacks and attempts to kidnap Feyre would come no matter what. Better we find out who wanted her more first - Tamlin or the king.

“You should have told me!”

“Maybe next time.”

“There will be no next time!”

Feyre lunged, a flash of teeth and nails, and shoved into me hard, so much so that it knocked me back and it was only my fae instincts that kept me upright. She was a force. A wind and a fire and a sun bearing down on me in all that glittering rage to birth a new creation.

She lifted her hands and stared at herself hard, criticizing and lamenting. The last time she’d been this upset, her powers had unlocked in full force. Looking at her now, the delicate mixture of heat still surfacing from earlier, I wanted to see more of her - see it all.

I wanted to watch her play and I would let her hate me to do it.

“Yes, you did,” I said reading her still open thoughts about how she’d forgotten how incredibly strong she was. It felt like an eternity since her shields had last been down for me and Cauldron, they felt nice. She felt nice. So I kept pushing. “You forgot that strength, and that you can burn and become darkness, and grow claws. You forgot . You stopped fighting. ”

Feyre’s eyes rose and exploded with mayhem and darkness.

And hatred for all the terrible things that had been done to her.

Come on Feyre darling, let it out. Let it all out.

“So what if I did?” she said, a serpent striking as she pummeled into me. Glory ripped through my chest. “So what if I did?”

She shoved again, but I winnowed out of reach.

More, more, more - Feyre .

“It’s not easy.”

She stormed toward me in a death march and I continued to winnow, her irritation evident. I landed behind her and let my breath tickle her ear, restraining myself from leaning all the way down at nipping at the lobe with my teeth - another thought to save for later. “You have no idea how not easy it is,” I whispered and disappeared as she spun for me, fists flying.

When I reappeared some feet away, I chuckled. Feyre’s eyes flashed, but there was some kind of delight in them too, I thought. Her hair was slightly askew and there was a dark energy gathering about her person that was so powerful, so tantalizing.

If she wanted to, she could have ripped me into shreds.

And I would have let her.

“Try harder,” I laughed, enjoying the way Feyre ground her feet tougher into the snow, finding the dirt hidden away beneath. Her hands sliced open, her fingernails elongating into beautiful startling claws as her fingers wrenched into talons ready to cut me open.

It was gorgeous, a beautiful disaster.

Feyre hit a tree as she aimed for me and tore the bark to pieces in her frustration.

She whirled, and I laughed, folding into smoke and wind and shadow that carried me further away. But when I solidified on the earth and spun, Feyre was right in front of me appearing out of her own mist - winnowing with her powers cascading around her in a frenzy.

It was the most beautiful, wonderful vision I’d ever seen.

And I loved every second of it that she let me witness before her body crushed mine and we landed in a heap of tangled limbs and grinning snarls on the snow.

---

“ Don’t ,” Feyre said, her voice raw, “ ever ,” and she shoved my chest roughly, her taloned nails ripping into my leathers, “ use me as bait again. ”

Her face was vicious, ready to collect her winnings for the victory in our fight.

Beautiful. She was so beautiful .

Even when she despised me.

And she did. Just then looking up at her, she hated me again. All of the air went out of my lungs.

She was so small in my arms. Redness stung her eyes.

“You said I could be weapon,” she said, continuing to pound into my chest. “Teach me to become one. Don’t use me like a pawn. And if being one is part of my work for you, then I’m done. Done.”

Done.

The worst word she could have ever said to me. I never wanted to hear it again.

My grip tightened on her, reluctant to let go. “Fair enough,” I said. Feyre stood, her talons nowhere in sight anymore, and pushed away from me. It felt more devastating than when she’d been trying to bite my head off.

“Do it again,” I said, trying miserably to will her back into the heat of fighting, into the flirtation I knew had been there, into something other than done and disgust. “Show me how you did it.”

“No,” she said. “I want to go back to the chateau.” Away from me. Away from this and what it had been. Away from us .

But she had winnowed...

“I’m sorry,” I said, rising from the snow and extending my hand. She didn’t take it. Why didn’t she take it?

Not my - Fuck. I washed the awful thought away. Not now, I prayed. Not after this, whatever the hell wonderful thing it had been, however brief.

“Why does the King of Hybern want me? Because he knows I can nullify the Cauldron’s power with the Book?”

My anger flared again. Back to politics. Back to work. Back to the only neutral space she wanted between us.

Back to the people who would torture and imprison her for what she’d become.

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” I replied. My hand still hung cold and empty between us. “I’m sorry,” I said again and Feyre finally looked at me. “Let’s eat breakfast, then go home.”

Feyre took my hand and for a second, I felt warm again. But her next words were a lashing upon my back, a curse to take with me before we winnowed back to the dining room.

“Velaris isn’t my home.”

Three days with me in the Night Court and it suddenly meant nothing.

xx