^^inspiration for Kaira's dress.

I take the few hours I have to wash and agonize over what to wear. Bathing isn't an option, but I only throw up once as I pull the blanket off the tub, get in, and pour buckets of water over myself. My reflection looks a bit better than when I first came, but not by much. My cheeks have filled in a bit, as well as the rest of me, but are still mostly hollow. There's a sliver of color in my hazel eyes and that's what I hold onto as I sit down on the bench at the end of my bed, staring at the clothes I'd laid out on the floor. My hands absentmindedly scratch at my shoulder blades, but only seems to make the itchiness worse.

I jump slightly when the doors open and I find an irritated Nesta standing there. "You're being forced to go to this as well?" She says and sweeps in the room already dressed in a stunning deep blue gown to perch on the bench next to me. I don't bother mentioning that we're not being forced to go to anything since she'd apparently named me an ally and I could use as many as possible. I also don't want her as an enemy.

"You look lovely," I tell her while scratching at my back and she huffs.

"Beauty makes everything look lovely." She returns, but I note the slight softening of her face when she looks at me. "I received no word on the proper attire and no one seems to care one way or another, so don't worry about what you pick." Her tone is harsh, as always, but it's an offered assurance. A truce that we've had between us built on the foundation that we know part of what we've gone through.

"What would you choose?" I ask her opinion and her sharp eyes scan the outfits before she points.

"You wear such dark colors and with your hair down sometimes they blend together. Wear something bright and put your hair up. That would shock them." It seems Nesta is on a bit of a warpath, but I take her comments in mind as I consider the emerald green gown. "I'll help you." She offers and stands, snatching the gown off the floor to offer it to me.

The corner of my lips lift as I stand and Nesta keeps her word to help me. The dress is the finest thing I've ever touched. It wraps over my left shoulder and leaves my right bare, then cuts across my chest to wrap tight around my protruding ribs and hips before falling in supple folds to pool on the floor. She helps me into it and makes sure that it fits me properly, then pushes me into a chair to do my hair.

"Just keep those shadows away from me." She commands, but my shadows already seem to know to avoid her. We're silent as she braids, tucks, and twists my hair until I find words falling out of my mouth.

"My sister used to do my hair," I tell her and her hands freeze, then continue. "She was so good with her hands from sewing or knitting that I barely felt it when she did it. Her touch was feather-light." The opposite of Nesta who is firm and solid, but she doesn't tug or pull.

"She's dead," Nesta asks in a breath and my eyes meet hers in the mirror.

"My entire family," I confirm as she tucks a final strand into the heap with a pin.

"Elain used to do my hair as well. She was used to the movements from training vines in her garden." Her fingers curl and I see a flicker of the pain and exhaustion she'd been fighting alongside me this past month.

"Perhaps she'll teach me." I offer an empty assurance, but she takes a breath at my words.

"Perhaps." She relents before I reach out to the desk in front of me and stand, then swipe two silver combs off it and offer them to her.

"These would go well with your dress," I tell her and she says nothing in return, but sits down where I was to let me gently slide them into her golden hair. That little piece of feeling Feyre gave me grows a bit as I see this woman give me a slice of trust. She keeps me in my room a little past time for dinner to start and I'm positive that it was to make an entrance. We walk together through the stone halls, her heels tapping and my bare feet padding down the halls. Any warmth she showed me before now vanishes the minute we step into the doorway and all eyes turn to us. The room takes a breath.

My hands clench to keep from shaking as I survey the men in the room, but my eyes stall on the other Shadowsinger. He's at the side of his High Lord and Cassian with wine being passed between them, but when Cassian offers him the decanter he doesn't even notice. His eyes are on me. Fire courses through my body as he scans me then locks onto my gaze. We both take a breath at the exact same time as his shadows dance around him like the flames of a raging fire and I know mine are doing the same. A wisp breaks off and slinks over his body, then slips over to me before curling around my ear.

"Beautiful." His voice says and some of the panic that had been rising in my heart fades.

"Where did those dresses come from?" I hear Mor say and my gaze breaks away from Azriel to look at her sliding long fingers over Nesta's skirt. My brows raise at the fact that Mor hasn't been slapped away already. "I want both." She pouts and the corner of my lips lift at her effort.

"I'm sure you can have some made," I tell her quietly before moving to Nesta's side so she doesn't feel completely alone. Feyre approaches next and my little smile grows easier at the sight of her.

"I assume my mate dug them up somewhere." She says and glances over to the man who is occupied by the winged males. Mor goes on about Nesta's dress while Azriel and I meet eyes again. He looks very nice as he always does in his normal leathers. Amusement flickers across his face even as I feel it trickle through me, but it has a very Azriel feel to it. My brows furrow as I reach within myself to find a cord, a sudden connection, that seems to be tied to the male. Maybe this has something to do with us both being Shadowsingers?

Just to see, I shoot the word handsome down the bond and actually smirk when his eyes widen while color blooms high on his cheeks. My head turns when I feel the tension seeping off the women to my right. Nesta is surveying Mor with cold calculation and I ready myself for the harsh words before they slip out. "Fortunately for you, I don't return the sentiment." She tells a surprised Mor before grabbing my arm and walking to take a seat with me across from her. Feyre blinks over at me at Nesta's clear preference to have me near her, but I shrug slightly. I've no clue why she does it either. Her sister claims the seat next to her and the room seems to sigh in relief that no one has to sit near the velvet wrapped sword.

"They mean well," Feyre murmurs, but Nesta seems more involved in examining the finery covering the table.

"I don't care." She gives an unsurprising response and Feyre shoots me a helpless look. My head shakes. Best not to push her. The one woman I've yet to meet steps forward and settles to my left across from Feyre with powerful eyes focused on Nesta.

"You're a real piece of work." She comments and I grimace, but Nesta only asks why the woman's eyes glow. The room grows tense and I find myself wondering what power this woman holds that would make a whole room go still. "You know, none of these busybodies have ever asked me that." The woman says with her head cocked as if she's a cat looking at a new toy. Nesta remains silent as she waits for an answer. "They glow because it was the one part of me the containment spell could not quite get right. The one glimpse into what lurks underneath."

"And what is beneath?"

"They never dared ask me that, either."

"Why."

"Because it is not polite to ask--and they are afraid." She and Nesta stare off and neither flinches or balks. "We are the same, you and I. Not in flesh, not in the thing that prowls beneath our skin and bones," the woman's eyes narrow slightly, "but I see the kernel, girl. You did not fit—the mold that they shoved you into. The path you were born upon and forced to walk. You tried, and yet you did not, could not, fit. And then the path changed." She nods. "I know—what it is to be that way. I remember, long ago as it was."

The two females stare off for a while longer and I lean back slightly at the feeling of power radiating off them both, then Nesta simply brushes her off. "I don't know what you're talking about." The woman beside me smiles wide.

"When you erupt, girl, make sure it is felt across worlds." The words slide over my skin and call to something deep within me.

"Amren," I'm glad to finally have a name to put to her face, "it seems, has been taking drama lessons at the theater down the street from her house." The woman shoots Rhys a nasty glare.

"I mean it, Rhysand—"

"I'm sure you do," he says as he settles to the right of his mate. "But I'd prefer to eat something before you make us lose our appetites." Everyone settles down and I'm a little disappointed that Azriel is on the other end, but my attention shifts when Amren finally turns to see who she's sitting beside. I blink when she faces me and considers me with a hand swirling something red around her glass. I'm not sure I want to know what it is.

"You aren't afraid of me." She says simply and my brows raise, then my head shakes. "You don't fear me because you don't fear death." She specifies and it's only when she speaks the words aloud that I realize she's right. Death and I are as familiar as old friends after recent events and I know that she only offers dark peace. It's the creatures of the world that are to be feared. Briefly, I wonder if any of the group considers the words that Amren said. Wondered why. If they did, then maybe they'd realize that I don't fear death because I'm not sure if my life is worth living anymore. The woman, or whatever she is, examines me a little closer before letting out a huff of disbelief.

"By the Cauldron, I don't think I can handle any more relatives." She says and confusion courses through me.

"I'm not related to Feyre," I tell her and her head shakes.

"Amren, I don't-" Rhys starts, but the woman won't be stopped.

"Not her relative. His." The entire room turns in the direction of her pointed finger to find Rhys at the end of it. He sighs and shakes his head while I think I've stopped breathing.

"What?" I gasp and the sentiment seems to be shared by everyone at the table.

"You're a distant relation more than likely had from an unwilling pairing, thus part of my reluctance to tell you. Besides, you're more like a five hundredth cousin a thousand times removed rather than a little sister." He smirks, but I can barely hear him. All I can think about is how I used to be someone's little sister.

Used to be, used to be, used to be.

I think back to Nesta's fingers in my hair, the soft tugging so like my sister's, then the fact that I'll never feel her again. Never see any of them. And now here is this near-stranger saying he's related to me, no matter how distantly, and he doesn't even give a shit.

"He didn't mean it like that. He knows what you've lost and doesn't want to push in." Azriel's smooth, calm voice floats over the bond, but I don't pay him any heed.

"No." The word has the room shaking just like it did the last time. "No, I don't have anything to do with you. You're nothing to me." His violet eyes sharpen.

"Now, now. Keep talking like that and you'll really sound like my family." Rhys purrs before I stand up and the chair behind me clatters backward onto the floor before I wave back at it to make the noise stop. No one expects it when the wood shatters. The splinters shred into me, the other chairs, and the wall, but my eyes are still on Rhysand who is on his feet along with most around the table.

"You don't know a thing about me. You don't know a thing about my real family." I tell him and ignore the searing pain growing in my back. "Where were you when my sister nearly died from typhus? When my brother broke his leg and had to be in bed for months? What about when the food started to run out, when we were kicked out on the street, when we were freezing, when they were slaughtered, when I was...when..." My heated words die as a groan leaves my lips at the pain growing on my back.

"What are you doing to her?" I hear Nesta shout at Rhys and Feyre's answering growl before hazel eyes move in front of me.

"Trust me," Azriel says with his wings encasing me, hiding us from the room, and the words echo down the bond between us. Swallowing the scream building in my chest, I nod before I feel him reach around me and rip the back of my dress open. My discomfort lessens, but the pain only grows.

"Let me in your mind and I'll take away the pain." I hear Rhys outside Azriel's wings, but I keep my smoky shields up as I cling to his arms.

"I'd rather...be in pain...than have you...in my head." I snarl between gasps and hear curses from multiple people before I let out a piercing scream as the skin on my back rips open. Azriel has a tight hold on my arms and my grip on his has to hurt, but he remains steady as my skin tears itself apart. My screaming has no end and when darkness rises to offer me sweet release, I all but jump into it. Still, I could have sworn my body felt heavier before the dark consumes me.

*A/N*

SURPRISE BITCHES.

Multiple surprises, actually. :D As always, tell me what you think, my lovelies. What just happened?