Suri inhaled, and her nose filled with the pungent scent of pine trees and clean air. She was standing again in that little village in the mountains.

Summer had just arrived, thawing the hardened earth, erasing the monochromatic shroud of snow and bringing out a full array of colors. Everything looked and smelled and felt and sounded awake.

Suri shielded her face against the gleam of the snow-capped peaks. The sun was warm and pleasant but it started to tire her eyes. She paced, idly circling the stone well, then stopped and set down on the edge. Waiting was not her thing. But Suri wanted to see Bekka once more before going back to the main camp.

A few weeks had passed since she had last been here, on a brief stop on the journey to the contingent that Commander Cassian, followed by a small group of Illyrians, had to check on. Suri had been accompanying them and, while restocking their provisions in the village, she had become fast friends with a human girl who lived there, Bekka.

Suri knew Bekka went to fetch water from the well every day at noon, so she waited.

Bekka was late. Very late. Maybe something had occurred with her infirm mother that had detained her.

Suri was beginning to get worried and rattled the pulley nervously. It felt strange, and she peered down; someone had left the bucket on the bottom of the well. Suri made to turn the wheel but it won't move. Then the bucket must be stuck on something. Pulling a little bit harder might help. The wheel groaned but the rope started winding back. Suri kept her teeth clenched for the strain and pulled until the end of the rope came into her sight. Then a last effort and the bucket was out of the well's mouth. And what hindered its ascent too. Who hindered its ascent.

Bekka.

Ashen, messed up, unwrapped Bekka.

A terrible gush went through her belly showing its insides. The blood drenching her tattered dress was all that was left of it. Her body had been sapped.

She looked so small—as if she had shrunk away on her bones.

The last thing Suri could soberly recall was her mouth opening, but the cry that had come out hadn't reached her own buzzing ears.

The hours that had followed were blurred. Only the shock, the fear, and the anger that had come after stayed clear in her memory.

A Fae had done that to her friend—out of spite or hate or just because he could.

Suri was barely more than a kid then, but it seemed like yesterday. And just as she had done since then, she would fiercely defend human rights, even though that kind of ruthless violence still unsettled her in ways nothing else did. Even if every dead human body she saw wore the face of the little Bekka.

Suri dropped her arms into the water splashing the marble floor. Her eyes split open, and she was back in the bathroom of her chamber at the manor. Her body felt tired, weighted down as if she had a boulder on her stomach, after spending the entire morning and good part of the afternoon combing the area round the spot where the five bodies had been found; she and Keran had also searched the farm and the surrounding grounds again, but nothing.

Suri had refused to see the maimed bodies.

It was all useless anyway. Everything had already been meticulously examined. No one had either seen or heard anything; there were no footprints, no residual magic to be tracked but the olfactory trail only Keran and his father could scent thank to their animal form's heightened senses.

Suri had come back rattled, spent, and disappointed with the unproductive day, only wishing to wash away the stink of failure and sweat.

Aksel was gone.

He had left the night before without so much as saying goodbye. He had been cryptic at dinner about his undertaking—but then, she hadn't stayed long enough to hear more about it.

Suri was still pissed at herself for... well, just staying there petrified. She hated when the weak side of her showed—above all in front of strangers.

But Cauldron, Aksel had gone nuts. Talking to Tamlin like that, showing no respect—mocking him! That wasn't like him at all. Her brother was always so measured, sensible and tactful; not edgy at all. And yet, he had ended up burying his good-natured side at the High Lord's challenging manners and tone. It often happened when they met actually.

Suri couldn't deny she did enjoy it.

To say the truth, she relished the way Aksel changed in those rare moments of ill temper, of deliverance from inhibitions. That moments exposed the real Aksel, the proud soul, the brilliant mind, the captivating personality of a man with a noble heart. It was such a shame he hid that part of himself most of the time. He was strong and powerful and he could have had everything but, for reasons impenetrable to her, he chose not to.

And yet, Aksel was not just that.

He was sensitive, and easily hurt by other people's judgements, even though he was very good at hiding it.

Suri wasn't able to read thoughts as Aksel did, but she knew the loathing the High Lord had always showed toward her brother deeply unsettled him. It wasn't Aksel's fault if Tamlin's shape shifting powers had been bestowed upon him, after all. And it pained her to see that Aksel let it bear on him.

And then Suri thought of the way he had left, and all the esteem for his confidence and his lashing words to the rude High Lord went to hell.

How could he have left her like that? How, when he knew she...

That time—after Bekka—Suri had come home heartsick and forgotten to ward her thoughts, so he had known the instant he had seen her what was wrong.

He had known then.

He knew now.

It was true, she'd been harsh with him—more than necessary, maybe. And they were not that close. But Aksel had this stupid quirk of protecting her, against the evidence that she should protect him. Suri didn't remember when or why he had taken it on, still, he had. Sometimes she thought it was just a way to interfere with her life but, for all she could have thrown at him, she knew Aksel would never be purposefully cruel to her.

So what the hell was he doing in the Dawn Court?

If he had gone only to see his lover in a moment like this... She would kill him bare handed.

Suri shut her heavy lids, yielding her senses to the mixed aromas rising from the hot water. Juniper, lemon balm and the smokes of raspberry candles. She sank deeper under the surface letting her unbound hair soak through. She felt the oily patina of the essences swathing her skin like diaphanous silk, felt the warm and soothing embrace of the liquid closing around her body like a mother's womb.

If she willed herself, she could shut everything out, and simply be pervaded by the bliss of the moment.

Some minutes passed. Maybe hours. Or maybe time stretched in her perception because of tiredness.

Something suddenly struck Suri as odd; a prickling started at her nape, as if she was being observed, though no one was there. She let out a breath and leaned her head back again.

And then it happened once more.

Her peripheral vision caught something she could not quite define. Was it a movement or a sound?

The steamy air of the room was filled with murky whorls; it was difficult to tell a real shift from a mere trick of her addled mind. Suri closed her eyes. Listening. Only when the presence stopped hiding and came out from the pocket of ether he had been lingering in—spying—did Suri reopen them.

Keran was staring at her.

He stood with a feline demeanor, a shoulder propped on the pillar to her left.

"You join?" Suri asked.

"I'd rather watch." He looked totally comfortable where he was, and relaxed. Nothing prodding him forward.

Suri grabbed a sponge laying on the side of the tub, scrubbing her neck with gentle and lazy circles, pretending to ignore Keran's scrutiny. She dragged the sponge down, between her breasts, and arched her back emitting a breathed moan.

He didn't flinch.

He didn't breathe, either.

Suri let the sponge plunge under the thin layer of foam shimmering like sugar crystals in the dim light of the candles. Her hand snaked free beneath the water after it. Her legs parted ever so slightly.

Suri didn't need to get a look at Keran's face to know she had his attention unrelentingly aimed right where she wanted; neither did she need to read his thoughts to fathom he was fancying about the dark and soft spots her fingers were exploring.

She took her time teasing and rubbing her smooth flesh under Keran's gaze. Suri could sense the primal instincts prevailing on him, the animal smell of his arousal clear now.

Her free hand slid upward, her thumb coaxingly moving around her nipple, and she deepened her maneuvers at the bottom of the tub gasping loudly.

Keran echoed her sound with a shallow pant and before she could so much as turn her head sideways he was already beside her—half naked and hankering.

Suri bit her lower lip suppressing a laugh at the restraint tensing all his muscles, almost trembling with maddening strive. The consuming desire burning through Keran spoke to her body in fervent, strident tones, almost deafening with their impetus. A high-pitched noise blasted from Suri's mouth when her core shuddered under a sudden wave of ravishing delight.

And Keran was kneeling in dark puddles on the marble tiles of the floor, gripping the edge of the bathtub with all his resolution—but not touching her.

It made her crave for the feel of his hands, but she relished even more the thrill of being watched as she took her own pleasure.

Keran had started wavering already, and his pale fingers slid downward reaching for her flesh.

"No," Suri gasped. She didn't want to break the goading itch caused by the nearly tangible brush of his stare.

He reached for his own flesh then. Keran fumbled in the penumbra, eyes trained on her.

Suri slowed her breathing, the shift of her fingers, waiting for him. His right arm tensed and he exhaled deeply as his eyes remained on the patch of murky water between her legs. Then the air was squeezed out of both them simultaneously, leaving them trembling and wheezing—startled.

Someone was knocking frantically on the door.

Suri was the first to react. She drew a ragged breath and rasped, "Yes?"

The answer came with the anxious voice of Suri's maid. "My Lady, you are urgently needed. Word of an attack has just arrived. Please hurry."        

  ۞۞۞    

The sight was squalid.

A tableau of death painted in mud and dirt.

Colorless strokes depicted a cluster of lifeless bodies abandoned on the earth, the white of their drenched faces and the grey and black hues of their clothes disturbed only by the occasional splash of reds and yellows dotting the landscape. They looked almost sacrilegious, profaning the mournful cape of gloom.

If Suri had to name a paint like this, as her mother would do, she'd call it Night's for blight, morning's for mourning.

The corpses, bended at odd angles, lay tangled where they had fallen—trampled. As soon as it had started, people had panicked fleeing in all directions without regard for whom they stepped on.

A massacre.

The only comfort—if there was any at all—was that they had been dead already when they had struck the ground. The poison had done a quick work.

As a soldier, Suri was used to death and its many avatars; but at least there was honor in perishing during a fight, to give your life for a cause, right or wrong it may be.

There was no honor in this.

No honor in ignorance and hatred.

Tonight a line had been drawn, and overstepped. In a matter of hours everyone in Prythian would know about the assault—everyone would know about them.

The Blessed they called themselves. A holy brotherhood whose members had pure High Fae blood running through their veins; the supreme race, meant to rule and dispose of all the others.

They had made a clear statement in front of the crowd reunited for the actors' show: they believed in the inferiority of human beings and abhorred the contamination of their kind's pure breed through blaspheme couplings with such lower creatures. Humans must live only to serve the Fae—or die.

The Blessed erected themselves to defenders of traditions and bastion of Prythian's heritage, when they were sullying that heritage instead.

For Suri they were just a handful of greedy and meager men with no respect for life, their name just a label intended to further ridicule mortals—a mockery of the former Children of the Blessed and their faith.

Fae should have learned from the mistakes of the past.

But no mortal, nor Fae, was beyond repeating history.

And High Fae had power enough to overturn it if they wanted.

When word spread, if others approved the message of the Blessed and decided to side with them against the law, not even the High Lords could forbid an entire country from establishing a new order. They needed to act quickly to prevent the utmost chaos. They had to offer something concrete to the High Lords and their subjects. Justice must be shown as intact and efficient.

Suri went to join Keran. He was talking with someone she had never seen, apparently an expert in matters of poisons. The Fae male looked bewildered.

"I've never seen anything like this gas. I believe it kills almost instantly, and very selectively."

Suri peered at the dozens of human bodies.

Indeed, she thought.

No Fae had suffered the effects of the substance the Blessed had released into the air during the performance. They had seen people die around them and merely fled. Of course the bastards had chosen the place and time to make the greatest damage possible—entire families had gathered to enjoy the show, children had been there. And they were all dead.

Keran and the man kept speaking in hushed tones, but Suri caught only parts of their discourse, her mind already straying elsewhere.

"I don't know... yes, it's evidently possible but... skill... not in the Spring Court... antidote may be difficult."

Some Fae had stayed after things had gone relatively quiet again. They had described the attack, it had been a matter of seconds. Some figures clothed in white hooded capes had suddenly appeared among the crowd and people had started falling down. According to the witnesses there had been ten of them or so, and all wearing a white mask on their face. When the mayhem had broken out the attackers had vanished like mist blown away by the wind, and every one left still standing had the words burned into their brains: humans must serve—or die.

The Blessed had managed to recruit daemati among their ranks.

This time they had merely conveyed a collective message, not manipulating the other Fae into acting on their behalf, but who knew what they might be up to next. The more Suri looked at the whole matter the more she thought they were screwed up.

"Lord Keran!" A shout. One of the sentries was waving his arms at Keran.

"My Lord, we got one of them."

Suri was springing into a run before she knew she had even made a step forward. A few men of the guard had a prisoner tightened and kneeling by the edge of the woods. They didn't need exhortation and as soon as she drew near one said, "We found him hiding in that cluster of trees over there." The guard vaguely hinted at the trees with a jerk of his head. "He was spying on us. To report to someone for sure, didn't you scum?" The guard yanked the prisoner's hood back.

Suri motioned for the man to stop.

"Don't remove his mask yet. The High Lord needs to see him first. Hold him here and make sure he doesn't do anything. I mean it—if he does so much as breathing too loudly you knock him unconscious, copied?"

"Yes Ma'am." The guard subtly peered at Keran by her side and got his confirmation.

It didn't take long to Tamlin to get there and start giving orders as to where the prisoner must be taken. Suri could almost hear the fury throbbing through the granite frame of the High Lord. She knew his still features and rigid posture made a shield for him—from him—but the moment he'd be alone with the prisoner the screams would be heard from miles away.

The bastard, whoever he was, was going to have a hell of a night.

And Suri would make sure of it.

It took less than half hour to winnow the prisoner into the guards' barracks and set everything for the questioning. They needed only a few trusted men, though; the rest stayed to clear up the site and to gather all the evidences.

Suri agreed to waiting outside as Tamlin conducted the interrogatory on his own. She paced back and forth for several minutes unable to stay put. Another half hour passed, then an hour. No sound came from behind the door. Was it a good sign, or a bad one? Was that wretched talking?

A squeaky noise raked the air as the door swung on its hinges. Tamlin stood on the threshold, eyes crinkled with something like sadness and hands shaking with frenzied spasms.

Suri and Keran exchanged a glance. Something was wrong.

Keran stepped closer to his father who was locking the door behind himself.

"What's going on?"

Tamlin didn't hide his frustration as he replied, "Nothing, that's the point. He refuses to talk."

Suri wanted to scream at him. All she did was bite down on her lip, though.

Keran started saying, "You can try—"

"I already did," breathed out Tamlin. "He's from Spring Court, Keran."

Keran stared at him stone-faced.

"The son of Marcus." Tamlin made another pause expecting some reaction from his son, but Keran's face remained blank. Suri had never seen him so... cold.

"The boy has confessed that they tried to trick me into leaving the manor, looking for a martax, so they could strike here as planned. The Blessed wanted to make a powerful entrance. They had to change the location for the attack, but they aimed true nonetheless—they've smacked me, made me look weak and vulnerable. Of course it would have been perfect if I'd let them walk in here."

Tamlin threw his arms out angrily.

Suri had no wish to antagonize him, but she had to know everything.

"Why you? Why the Spring Court?"

"Because—" Tamlin emitted a dry laugh, "they want to punish my blasphemous alliance with mortals. Because, if I had not fallen for one of them this would have never happened."

Sure. Feyre. Her mother. The first High Lady in history, and she who had started building that bridge now joining the human and Fae worlds.

"What else has the boy said?"

Tamlin shook his head. "Nothing at all. After answering my first questions he refused to say more. I glamoured him, to convince him he was talking to one of his accomplices, yet he somehow resisted me."

"So, if not by hook then, maybe..." Suri was already cataloguing all kinds of sadistic torments she knew, and none of them seemed fit enough for that vile.

"I think we'd better wait for your brother. I've already sent word to him. His gift is strong, he could easily get into his head without hurting him."

"Without hurting him? Are you seriously worrying about that bastard's health? He should suffer!" yelled Suri.

The argument steered Keran out of his trance.

"He will suffer," Keran said. "He'll be punished, at the right time and in the right place—not here, not now."

Suri could not believe her ears.

"You wouldn't say that if he was from Night Court, or any other Court but your own." Her words were hissed with venomous breath. The truth hit him like a punch in the face.

Suri stalked forward and declared, "I've been tolerant enough. High Lord, you gave me the task of finding the responsibles of these crimes, and I'm walking in there to do just that—whether you like the way I do it, I do not care."

Then she pushed the door open. No one tried to stop her.

Suri cursed viciously.

The prisoner was still strapped to the chair, mouth oozing with red foam.

She hurtled forward and gripped the head of the boy. His eyes had rolled back in his head, showing only white. Suri pried his mouth open and forced two fingers down his throat. The boy started coughing out bile and blood. He was shaking.

"Damn, damn, damn!"

He went still. They'd lost him.

Suri wiped the gore from her pants and straightened herself slowly. She turned as if nothing had just occurred, as if they had not lost their only hope to a foolish mistake. Then walked out with no hurry and not even an accusing glance at either Tamlin or Keran.