Star in Ashes (Acotar fanfic)

Bad breakfast

The breakfast is awkward, considering that I really want the sword lying in the middle of the table. Andromeda glows faintly, calling to me. However, I have to ignore it and eat a rather dry piece of toast. Niclas munches on his apple, his violet eyes glued to me.

"The Star Court is far from here." Rhysand says coolly. "Why would they send you to steal from us?"

I don't respond immediately, mostly just to piss him off. I rip into the dismal toast and chew on it for a solid minute. The High Lord's mouth becomes a hard thin line. The thug from the other night tenses, his eye twitching. At least there are some perks to annoying people.

"Maybe I'm just good at what I do." I respond, flashing him a cheery smile. Lyra, Arcturus whispers into my head. Andromeda.

His voice is distant and far away.

I'm trying, I hiss back. Honestly, these stars have no idea how complicated life on this world truly is.

The High Lord smiles warmly at me and my internal hackles rise. What is this?

"And what would that be? This Court makes a dangerous enemy." He says softly. "But a powerful ally. Perhaps you could go free if you gave up your masters."

Ah, the old double agent play. My smiles fades and I paint a world weary expression onto my face. Woe to me, the pitiful spy forced to steal from the dangerous Night Court. The shadowy male goes still.

"Honestly, I just don't have a choice. My skills are so specific my court forces me to use them." I lament, and even Niclas stops eating his apple. I can sense Rigel mentally rolling his eyes. Who is going to believe this? He asks snidely. Arcturus lets out a sound of agreement.

Everyone's a cynic. I snap back.

"You don't have to work for a court like that." Feyre says, sadness in her eyes and suddenly I feel a pinprick of guilt. She looks like she actually cares.

"And what skills do you possess?" The silver eyed female asks, her voice sharp. My guilt vanishes.

"My skills..." I sigh and glance downwards. "I'm just such an incredible dancer. Specifically with swords. That's why I told your thug – I mean friend – that he had such talent. The Star Court wants only the best and most powerful swords for their dances."

The thug slams his fist down onto the table in rage and my weary expression changes into a satisfied sigh. Rhysand and Feyre glare at me. Well, that was fun. Niclas's mouth twitches as if he's going to laugh. Huh. At least someone has a sense of humour.

"If you're not going to be serious, we could have another chat in the dungeons." The shadowy one snarls. I hold in my flinch. I can't take another slash of that blade.

"As fun as that would be, the diplomatic ramifications could be...messy." I comment, raising my gaze to meet Rhysand. I take another bite of dry toast.

"You've already stolen from us." The thug says angrily. "Diplomacy is out the window!"

I raise a brow, wondering how the High Lord put up with someone who had no idea about politics.

"Is it, though?" I muse. "Because I haven't stolen anything at all. And holding a court member of a valuable trading ally who insists she is innocent...well, it could have serious effects on trade within your cities. It also confirms what many other countries think about the Night Court and its High Lord...or should I say High King? They say you're quite the tyrant, Rhysand. What a shame it would be if that proved to be true."

Rhysand's eyes glow with purple fire and for a moment I think he's going to lunge at me. But then a crafty look enters his eyes.

"You're certain the Star Court will claim you for one of their own. Why would a spy be so important?" He asks.

Ugh. I hate the clever ones. They always make me work harder.

"Who says I'm a spy?" I reply, smiling at him. "Now, I think we should finish breakfast. Waste not, want not, as they say."

Niclas coughs and covers his mouth, in what looks suspiciously like laughter. Rhysand glares at me again and says nothing. The thug scowls on in disbelief. Because unless they want open warfare with another territory (and the human territory at the bottom of Prythian already contests their rule) then they need diplomacy with my court. Which means they can't kill me. Yet.

"You can stay here." Feyre says coldly, showing me to a pretty room with a double bed. Not bad for a prison. It's certainly better than at home, where my father gave me a cold room and a bed with a crappy mattress. Apparently, luxury makes one soft. So he doesn't approve of it.

"Thank you." I reply, guilt waking up inside me again. She doesn't look at me as she talks.

"You're not permitted to leave the House of Wind. Azriel is here to make sure of that." Azriel? Which lackey is that? The shadowy bore appears like a bad smell and I sigh. It'll be hard to escape him and that horrible blade. He watches me and I feel as if every movement is being observed.

"Fantastic." I mutter, step into the room and close the door.

I immediately peer out of the window, checking if there is a way to climb out. But when I look down, only a sheer drop greets me. Vertigo makes my head spin as I stare at the drop and the ground isn't even visible through the clouds which drift around the window.

"Well, that's not happening." I mutter, throwing myself down on the bed instead. Wow, but it's so soft! Maybe I should just stay here for a while. But that old sense of discomfort returns, the nagging feeling that this isn't where I belong. That my body is stretched too tightly over my very self. It's always there but it's very strong right now. I place a hand to my head, closing my eyes against the inevitable migraine.

Andromeda, Arcturus whispers faintly in my mind.

I know. I whisper back.

Because only that sword can stop this feeling from slowly but surely driving me mad.