chapter six
When the Fae's bare feet touch the ground, when her bare arms come in contact with the frigid winter air, Selaene is not worried.
But when she allows herself to open her eyes again, eager to see that world she has waited so long for, a scream of pain tears through her lungs. She has never experienced anything like it: such pain in her eyes that she thinks they are on fire.
Her fingers apply pressure, desperate to relieve such intense burning, and the passerby who helped her lays his hands on her face in a vain attempt to get her own fingers out of her own eyes. Tears flowed freely down her reddened cheeks from the stinging air.
She has been so stupid, so greedy in wanting to savor light and freedom and colors again, that she has forgotten that her eyes are not used to it. Now she will be lucky if she is not blind.
"Take it easy... take it easy." The male offers her comforting words, but he doesn't know what to do. Maybe he should call his mate and tell her that a little girl has appeared randomly after he winnowed in the border village. But the young fae is screaming and crying and he doesn't know why, and at the moment contacting his beloved on the other side of his Court is out of the question.
He is so focused on removing her hands from her eyes, which press so hard that she seems to want to gouge them out herself, that he doesn't notices she is dressed only in an old nightgown. Bloodstained and torn. The male sighs and takes off his coat, offering it to her.
He helps her up, puts the head around her shoulders and uses the hood to cover her eyes. Selaene on the other hand does nothing to go along with the movements, but she does not object either.
The stabbing pain has reduced to occasional twinges, and she realizes only later that she is now standing and her body no longer shakes from the cold, her teeth having stopped chattering.
Whoever the male is, he is kind, she thinks. He could have left her there, or worse. Instead he is helping her, even giving her his hood to cover her eyes.
Kallias, the High Lord of the Winter Court lets out a big sigh and defeated, takes the female's arm. Even today he will not be able to visit the village, it is as if fate did it on purpose.
One moment they are at the borders, the next they are in a noisy place, and even though she doesn't see them, she hears a lot of people circling around them offering help.
Selaene wants to yell at whoever he is, to say they had to stay there, in the exact spot he passed and get her sister, but she keeps quiet.
She lets the Fae's arm guide her to a room that smells of rosemary and sage. Only now, little by little, is her body getting used to the world again. Except for her eyes, which she keeps tightly shut in fear of opening them and seeing... nothing. She is afraid that she has gone blind.
"Tyna, can you call Vivi?" The male's voice is authoritative. She wants to explain that there is no need for them to do anything, that she would just like them to call her brother and mate.
A twinge in her heart makes her gasp. Azriel. She searches inside her, retraces that bond that has become dry and dead, and reaches the end of her companion, only to find... a wall. She can't reach out to him, to make that wonderful thing that connects them flourish again, because now... it is Azriel who is not there.The man must have noticed the change in the Fae's mood, because he turns to her.
"Who are you? How did you end up with me?"
"I was-I was stuck in the UnderWorld."Selaene does not even try to put up a fight. All this time she has never thought about the possibility that Azriel was...
"What?" He asks and does not mask surprise, but the female does not answer.
"Are you part of the Night Court?" The fae nods in assent from under her hood. "Are you injured?"
"No."
A female suddenly enters the room. "Kal. What happened?"
"She appeared totally at random when I winnoweed, says she got stuck in the UnderWorld and now--her eyes, I don't know, Viv."
There is a long pause between the two, and Selaene has to suppress the urge to peek. She focuses on how she feels, rather. Besides the smell of spices, she can sense the two Fae and suspects they are companions. "All right. I'll go get Mor, then."
Selaene has no idea who the mentioned female is, but she does not open her mouth. She hears light footsteps moving away until they disappear. The male remains in the room with her. "Okay. I leave you in the hands of Tyna, our healer. And my mate has gone to call for help in your Court. Can you tell me your name?"
Selaene hesitates. "I am Selaene."
The male emits a sound of surprise that leaves the Fae quite puzzled, seeming to hurry away without so much as a word. After a couple of minutes, light pattering can be heard in the room on the floor.
"Hi. I'm Tyna and I'll help you see. How long were you in the absence of light?" A soft, warm voice envelops her, and she feels cuddled by the female who is taking care of her.
"I ... I don't know. More than four centuries."
"And as soon as you came back, did you open your eyes?" Selaene nods. "You stupid, stupid girl. " She says and her face appears under the hood, she feels her warm breath against his.
"Come on, try to open one eye, slowly. Don't hold them tight, or you'll hurt yourself." Selaene follows her instructions, and when she finally opens one eye she meets the face of a female with chubby cheeks and ice-colored eyes.
"There you are." She says softly, "now close it and open the other, ever so slowly."
Once she ascertains that the young girl has not blinded herself, the healer invites her to keep her eyes open under the hood as she fetches her a small piece of black cloth.
"What is it?" asks Selaene passing the small square between her fingertips. Tyna takes her by the arm and helps her up, leading her to the nearest window.
"Put it in front of your eyes and look out, we will use a thinner cloth each time."
The young female positions herself in front of the window and holds the cloth in front of her eyes with one hand, while she removes the hood from her head with the other.
"Does it hurt, honey?" Selaene shakes her head and a smile spreads across her face as she catches a glimpse of snowy mountains outside the window.
They remind her of the Illyrian steppes. Her wings twitch involuntarily. How she has missed flying, how she misses home.
Tyna passes her other types of cloth, all gradually finer and less dark, until finally she declares that her eyes are apposite and she can look out without the help of anything.
"Maybe don't look straight into the sun, but there's not much here anyway." The comment warms her heart, somehow. When was the last time she looked into the face of another person?
"I would like to go back to my home."
"Don't worry, stay here. Our Lady has gone to call the Third-in-Command of the Night Court. She will take you home." The Fae nods and watches the female figure as she leaves the room.
Now that she finds herself alone and can see, she studies her surroundings. Around her are various dried herbs, and she is probably in Tyna's study. There is a mirror near the sink, and she decides to observe herself after almost five hundred years. She approaches slowly keeping her gaze down, and after a long breath and resting her hands on the pottery for support, Selaene looks straight into her eyes. She is smug with her reflection: she is exactly as she was all those years ago. She was never vain, but she knew she was a beautiful female, and Azriel did not fail to repeat this to her every day, making her blush. Her eyes are still bright purple, and her hair is still black and shiny, just as long as it was. The mirror is too small to mirror her wings in full, but it was one of the few things she had bothered to do in the UnderWorld: the exercises Cassian made her do to keep her wing and back muscles in training. The only thing that has changed is her complexion, once honey-colored, now turned a ghostly hue.
Voices in the distance distract her from her thoughts, and she hurries back to sit on the small cot as before. "Oh, there you are." The white-haired female greets her, the same as before. She must be the one who called the blond-haired Fae to her side. Could it be her Mor?
In her scent she recognizes some familiar trace, but she could not trace it back to anything or anyone in particular.
Mor watches her in surprise, a distressed expression aging her face as she seems to be having a silent conversation with the white-haired female. Selaene does not like this. Is she a Daemati too? She tries to check her mental shields, but cannot remember how. The Fae eventually leaves after a brief embrace with the blonde.
"Is your name Selaene?" A question asked in such a hopeful tone, if she is really Mor, then she is the Third in Command of the High Lord of the Night Court. Which is... her brother.
"Are you Mor?" The blonde seems annoyed by her question and the fact that she did not answer, but then she smiles.
"You look just as I imagined you." She says, and her eyes glaze over. Selaene hasn't allowed herself to cry yet, and she won't allow herself to until she knows her family is okay, but Mor is giving her more hope in these minutes than in most of her life.
"Let's go home, Selaene." She tells her after clearing her throat, her voice cracked. She holds out a hand and the young girl studies it before taking it between her own.
"Shall we go to Velaris?" Mor smiles at her, but does not answer. The young woman's heart could burst with joy at any moment. The blonde's grip tightens on her hand, and in the blink of an eye, the two find themselves at the gates of Velaris. "Welcome home, Selaena."
Only now, only after setting foot in her city, in her home, does the fae allow herself to cry. She does not cry as she expected: her tears are silent and of pure wonder. Mor squeezes her hand one more time before bringing it back along her own sides. "Come on, let's walk to the River House."
They walk silently, the blonde not wanting to disturb Selaene. Not when there is such wonder, such happiness in her gaze. She is just as she expected, a copy of her cousin. Gods, she was her cousin.
"Selaene. We haven't introduced ourselves." She tells her after they stopped at a stall and bought her a typical treat-the Fae did not ask for it, but Mor saw how her pupils dilated at such a delicacy, "I am Mor. And I am your cousin. And your brother's cousin."
At her words Selaene's heart gave a little sinking. "Is he-he is here? Is he okay?"
"He doesn't know you're here, we're going to see him." She cannot stop the tears even if she wanted to. Mor hands her food, but she is not hungry. She can't even remember the taste of the food, can't remember the last thing she ate or when.
"I want to go to him right away." Mor chuckles and makes her way through the crowd. "They're all there, honey. We were having dinner."
It takes ten minutes on foot. Ten terrible minutes in which Selaene's heart does nothing but beat, beat, beat. Louder and louder.
"Here we are."
As soon as they enter the front door, the smell of Rhysand, a female and something else fills her nostrils, and she smiles at the familiarity she had forgotten.
She hears his voice, their voices. She hears the clatter of cutlery and the laughter of a family.
Mor enters first, but the room freezes at the new, well, not new, found smell. Rhysand, his brother, oh gods, his brother gets up to see who is hiding behind his cousin.
And when their gazes meet...
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