Blurry faces and muffled voices bled into each other. She was alone, everyone and everything else a world apart. She was at the bottom of a lake, the water murky and viscous. The disembodied voices whispered in their foreign tongue. She was cold and it was so dark she couldn’t even see her fingers. The surface of the lake was ice, and she was trapped underneath. The sky was red. The faces above the surface, white as death. The water was pulling her back in. Darkness. Heavy. It was not water, but something thicker. Her breathing was ragged. There was no air. Buried. She was buried alive. She would spend her eternity here, taking shallow breaths. Alone. All alone.

Vel awoke with a start, gasping for air. Her sheets were tangled all around her, ripped in a few spots where she’d struggled against the material. Her body was coated in a layer of slick sweat and there were patches of ice all over her limbs. Her own powers had gone haywire trying to protect her from her nightmares.

Nightmares. An unfamiliar ordeal. She’d had dark visions heralding death, war, or famine but in her prophecies, she was always a spectator - like watching a theater play unfold. She had never felt threatened before.

She lay in bed, still breathing heavily like every gulp of air was a luxury. She reached out and examined the tattoo in the dim morning light. Tomorrow she would leave this court. She would request an audience with Beron, set things right with him, and fly back home north, to her cozy little cabin. She would put this place full of scheming bastards far behind and only be back when it was time for a new High Lord.

Vel didn’t feel like herself. She had been so excited to be in the Autumn Court and only two days later it was all falling apart. She’d gone to bed with a splitting headache and woken up with a dull throbbing in her temples. She blamed Eris for the constant headaches. He kept getting under her skin one way or another. She had promised herself not to get involved with High Lords or their heirs in that way and what happened last night only cemented her resolve. To Eris, she was only another chess piece on the table. He would do everything he could to rope her to his side, just like he did with Nyoka. Vel huffed forcefully - contempt and frustration eating at her mind.

A knock and the door creaked open as if she’d summoned Nyoka with her thoughts. “Apologies Lady, I thought it might be wise to wake you, the hunting party is getting ready to depart,” the forest nymph called from the bottom of the stairs. She heard the clattering of dishes as Nyoka arranged the breakfast spread.

Vel cursed herself silently and rolled out of bed, dragging half of the damp sheets with her. She grimaced as her feet touched the cold wood of the floor. The fire had gone out at some point during the night, so the room was freezing cold. Or perhaps it was due to the slivers of ice that she’d summoned.

She padded to the main area, cold and sore as if she’d slept in a Winter Court cave and not in a luxuriously plush bed. As Nyoka raised her eyes from the food she covered her mouth with a delicate hand. “My lady, you look … apologies - you look terrible.”

“I – “ she didn’t know what to say, what was wrong. All of it was a first for her. “My sleep has been … eventful. I am sorry for the sheets.”

“A prophecy?” she asked, hopeful.

“Something like that. I’ll be departing tomorrow morning, Nyoka, there’s something else I need to take care of.” A lie but not really. She had to figure out what was wrong. “Please don’t tell Eris, I will tell him myself, I just … “ She tugged at her tangled hair. “I just need to find the right moment.” The faerie nodded thoughtfully.

“Eat. Regain your strength. I’ve also packed a hearty lunch, just in case the males don’t manage to catch anything.” She winked conspiratorially at her and Vel managed a small smile back.

She did eat, though her appetite was lacking. Nyoka untangled and braided her hair expertly before ushering her to the bathroom for a much-needed wash. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror – her eyes were sunken and dull, her cheeks hollow. But her skin was the worst of it – paper white, like the faces in her dreams. In the warm, steamy room, a shudder went through her.

By the time Nyoka was done fussing over her, she was once again pink and shiny. There had been so many oils and creams that Vel felt slightly lightheaded from the smell. Perhaps she wouldn’t even need to mask her scent anymore.

It was already late in the morning when she finally emerged from the Forest House to join the group of red-haired males in the courtyard. Lysander and his younger brother – Theron if she recalled correctly? – were animatedly discussing potential game. Eris stood with them, watching a pack of four massive gray hounds fight over a well-chewed bone, only half paying attention to their conversation. The twins and the second youngest brother, Roderic, were placing bets on who would get the first kill, while Lucien stood some distance away, brushing the coat of a brown and white horse.

Eris was wearing hunting leathers – the tan, worn material sculpted to legs that were more muscular than she’d noticed. His close-fitted jacket was embroidered with gold thread that matched the rings on his fingers. A leather baldric with two familiar-looking jeweled daggers was strapped across his broad chest. He looked much more formal than yesterday, quite regal even with his burgundy cloak and a thick wolf fur resting on his shoulders.

“We were beginning to worry you had changed your mind about joining us, my lady,” Lysander said with a small bow.

“Some of us were nearly ready to leave,” Theron added, casting an accusatory look toward Eris who rolled his eyes.

“We will be lucky to find anything at this hour,” he replied curtly. Eris shot Vel a disapproving look before turning on his heels and heading towards a dark stallion, his cloak flowing behind him. The hounds followed close behind.

“I’d like to remind you, brother, that this was supposed to be the lady’s tour and not a hunting party,” Lysander called after him, which Eris entirely ignored.

“He’s been even more sour than usual,” Theron noted flatly as if talking about the weather. He was a well-built male. Where Lysander was every bit long limbs and courtly elegance, Theron looked solid, and sharp as a sword. In his leathers, he seemed ready to step on a battlefield rather than into a muddy forest.

“It didn’t help his moods that the High Lord gave us a curfew.” Lysander mused. “As if we are some irresponsible youths that need looking after.” Theron clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“A curfew?” Vel asked, interest suddenly piqued. She wondered if Beron wanted them back early to finally talk about why he’d summoned her here.

“Yes, he sanctioned the trip only as long as we would be back before dinner,” Theron answered, his attention turned towards his younger brothers who were pestering Lucien.

“What’s with him all of a sudden turning into a family man?” Lysander asked nobody in particular. On his horse, Eris went to stand between Lucien and the rest, breaking up the party.

“Let’s go before we waste more time.” An order, not a request, the brothers dutifully went to their horses. Eris’ attention turned toward Vel, eyeing her intricate robe. “Who will you be riding with?” The first words they’d exchanged since before dinner.

“I can ride by myself just fine – if you could provide a horse, my lord.” He looked at her skeptically but didn’t question further. He motioned to a stable hand who promptly disappeared into the barn and came back with a docile-looking spotted palfrey. Vel mounted the horse sidesaddle – only slightly awkwardly.

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The Autumn Court forests were even more beautiful from within. In the bright noon sun, the world was a latticework of red and gold and brown and green, the trees thick and old, the mossy ground strewn with rocks and boulders. Every once in a while, Vel would spot a fat-cheeked squirrel, jumping from one gnarled branch to another. It would’ve been a perfect day if it weren’t for the lingering shadows of her nightmares and the discomfort from riding sidesaddle. She rode at the back of the party, between Lucien and Lysander, the latter enthusiastically describing geographical peculiarities.

“Did you know, my lady, that the Autumn Court boasts the highest proportion of wooded area in Prythian?” Though she had been well aware of the fact, Vel mimicked surprise. The conversation was entertaining enough to take her mind off her worries, at least for the moment.

Lysander’s name was called by Theron at the front of the convoy and the male excused himself to join his brothers.

“A warning for you lady, everything my brothers say or do comes with a set of hidden motives,” Lucien said in a low voice. There was little chance anyone would hear their conversation. Roderic and the twins were laughing loudly ahead, drinking from tankards of what Vel presumed was some kind of mead. Eris, Lysander, and Theron were bickering at the front of the procession. It would be a miracle if they actually ended up hunting anything with the amount of noise their group was making.

“What is your hidden motive for telling me this, princeling?” She didn’t bother to mention she’d already found out first-hand how nothing was ever what it seemed in this court.

“Would you believe me if I said there is none?” Lucien turned and gave her an easy smile. “I’m not interested in the throne. The trees, the rivers, the warm sun on my face –” he gestured with a wide motion to their surroundings. “This is my real home. My brothers can have the Forest House and all the scheming and bloodshed that comes with that seat.” She didn’t need to read his mind to know that he was telling the truth. Lucien seemed very much in his element, and far more relaxed than he ever was around his family.

“Very well then. Thank you for the warning, my lord.”

Lucien snorted in response. “The formality gets old quickly.” She nodded – she’d never been one for titles and ranks. Her own title made her feel like a gnarled crone, so she tried to avoid it as much as possible.

“The Autumn Court has many strange traditions. Is it always the case that dinner is served on individual plates, rather than letting the diners choose their food from a platter?”

Lucien snickered though there was a coldness in his eyes. “When we were young my brothers and I used to fight over the best cuts of meat. Our father didn’t care much for it, even when my older brothers started drawing blood; he only said – ‘It’s the way of the world. The strong eat and the weak get the scraps.’”

Lucien’s impersonation of his father would’ve earned a chuckle out of her, if not for the cruel words. He’d let his own children fight over food like beasts. Lucien was the youngest so he would have been immediately disadvantaged. He seemed to read her mind because he continued. “Don’t worry about me. I befriended the cooks early on, so I always paid a visit to the kitchens before dinner.” He paused and took a deep breath, his exhale making a tiny cloud of fog.

“After my brothers came into their powers the clashes became much more violent. It only stopped when one of the twins – I think it was Caelum – singed our mother accidentally. In his rage, Eris almost incinerated both of the twins. Mother deflected the flames at the last moment and shielded them but the attack did end up charring most of the food and burning down half of the table. Luckily for us, our father was not there – he rarely deemed to dine with us – otherwise, we would’ve all gotten lashed for it. She must have begged him to change dinner tradition because we each got our own plates from then on.”

Vel must have looked appalled even with the top half of her face covered because Lucien gave her a toothy grin. “It isn’t all bad. Beron often tries to pit us against each other, but some of the things he does brings us closer together. The enemy of my enemy is my friend – or something like that.” Another pause. Vel didn’t push him. Thirty minutes of conversation with Lucien were proving significantly more insightful than two whole days spent with Eris. In a way, the Autumn Court was as expected and at the same time so much worse.

“Though some of us like drawing blood for the sake of cruelty.” A pointed stare at the twins’ backs. “As unfortunate as it is, the High Lord is our father in the end and we all inherited some part of him for better or for worse.” A heavy silence hung between them.

“We are not our parents.” Defiance resonated in her voice and Lucien nodded. The crisp autumn wind blew his hair back. His scent was faint and yet familiar – crackling embers just like Eris, but also something sweeter like baked apples and cinnamon.

“Shall we talk about your parents now?” Vel tilted her head back and laughed. Roderic glanced back at the unfamiliar sound. Vel made sure to lower her voice so only Lucien could hear her.

“I was Made, but trust me when I say, my creators make Beron seem kind by comparison.” He chuckled low.

“I do hope to hear that story sometime.”

“Who knows what the future has in store for us?” She grinned at him and he returned it with one of his easygoing smiles that made his russett eyes shine brightly. It made him look so different from all the other Autumn Court males who seemed to prefer frowning. “Do you think we will ever get to our destination? I can’t feel my right leg anymore.”

Before he could respond she saw Eris raise his arm at the front. The party stopped and dismounted. Lucien circled around her palfrey and helped her dismount. She gave him a grateful smile as she clumsily hobbled on her prickling leg.

They tied the horses up and followed Eris on foot to the edge of a small clearing bordered by a loudly running stream. Old oak trees gave way to a clear blue sky. Loam and moss transformed into tall green grass and wildflowers. She couldn’t see any game but she scented the faintest hint of pheasants.

Vel scuttled close to Lysander who seemed largely out of his element and whispered. “May I borrow your bow?”

“Are you assuming I cannot hunt, my lady? I am hurt.”

“Not at all my lord, I only presumed you were the most magnanimous of the males gathered here.” From Lysander’s other side, she heard Eris scoff. Lysander paid him no mind. She could tell from his expression that he was not buying her pretense but he seemed equally disinclined to be the object of his brothers’ ridicule if he missed his shot. He handed over his bow – an elegantly carved weapon with little to no wear. Vel weighed it in her hands, it was heavier than the one she had back home but she would adjust. She picked two arrows from the quiver on Lysander’s back. She notched both of them and pulled back the string. Her arm protested at the stiffness of the bowstring and she wondered if Lysander had ever used his bow in the past one hundred years.

Eris let out a whistle and his hounds leaped into the clearing to flush out about two dozen fat birds. Vel titled her bow and let her arrows loose. One skewered a medium-sized male pheasant through the neck. The other found its mark much closer, grazing an arrow that came from her right. Eris let out a string of curses and she could have sworn the forest suddenly became a few degrees warmer. She heard the faint clinking of coins changing hands. Lysander chuckled and moved to the other side of the group, presumably unwilling to be within striking distance of Eris’s daggers.

“Apologies my lord, I seem to be a touch clumsy with the bow.” Vel gave him a honeyed smile and Eris stomped into the clearing after his hounds. She heard Lucien’s laugh from behind her. “I thought I smelled something burning, but I didn’t think it would be Eris’s pride.”

They gathered in the clearing and prepared two fires for their late lunch. The twins expertly skinned and readied the six pheasants. Together with the provisions they had it would be more than enough for a filling meal. Vel sat by the largest of the two fires, trying to warm her fingers without burning herself. As beautiful as the Autumn Court was, she could do without the constant biting wind. To her side, Lucien was deep in conversation with Theron. She inched closer to him, hoping that some of that warmth in his veins would leech out towards her.

Something heavy dropped on her and the world went entirely dark. She poked her head out from underneath the weight to see Eris looking down at her. “It was a good shot,” he said, barely loud enough for her to hear, before sauntering back towards the twins. She touched the thing he’d covered her with, it was the large wolf fur he had been wearing earlier – irresistibly warm and smelling like him: worn leather, crackling fire, and a hint of cedar. She wrapped the fur tighter around herself, grateful for the heat. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Theron leaving his spot next to Lucien.

The long-haired male looked her up and down with a raised eyebrow. “Not at all what I expected from him.” For a moment, they both stared at Eris’s back.

“You know him better than me … though, in the short time I was here, I found him to be full of contradictions.” Lucien didn’t respond immediately, seemingly weighing his thoughts.

“He is prone to being capricious. But he is also the only one of my brothers who has ever shown me any kindness.” Vel hummed, deep in thought.

They eventually started roasting the birds over the open flames. By the time they were done, Vel was almost drooling from the smell alone. They joked and laughed and the brothers shared their honeyed mead with her. She offered them the buttered pastries that Nyoka had packed for her, which the males swiftly wolfed down. For the first time in two days, Vel felt clear-headed and bushy-tailed and, for the first time in many years, she felt like she was part of a family.

They took the long way back home, passing through a quaint little village, the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted venison hung in the air. Faerie folk and High Fae alike went about their afternoon chores – a slender female with skin like tree bark was hanging bed sheets on a line, an ancient-looking Fae was gathering vegetables in his garden, two rosy-cheeked children were chasing a pink piglet barefoot through the mud. The villagers seemed surprised to see all the Vanserra brothers together but they bowed and offered tribute nonetheless – from fresh fruit, to hand-woven baskets, to plump chickens. Eris declined them all.

It was dark when they finally made it back to the Forest House. Despite the stench of alcohol and loam that clung to them, they decided to head directly to the dinner hall, not wanting to attract Beron’s wrath. In the end, it seemed like their concerns had been unfounded because Beron was once again in an uncannily good mood. It was remarkable enough that Eris threw her a concerned look as he took his place across from her, to the right of his father. The brothers were more subdued than at lunch, but after enough wine flowed there was once again laughter and merrymaking. Despite the late lunch her appetite had returned in full force and she cleaned out her plate in no time.

With dinner wrapped up and evening turned to night, Vel felt rather unenthusiastic about going to sleep. She wondered how others were able to sleep with the everpresent threat of nightmares looming in the shadows. As she passed a familiar corridor she realized there was one last thing she’d want to enjoy about life at court before returning to her modest cabin.