A Court of Madness and Depth

Part IV: Born of Darkness, Chapter 33

AN: Thank you so much for reading. This part is the final part of ACOMAD. I hope you enjoy it. I have fallen so deeply in love with Asra and the SJM universe by writing this. This chapter especially was one of the most heartbreakingly raw ones I have written. Your reading means everything to me!

Today, standing before this door felt like a death sentence.

    Resentment was the closest emotion I could identify. There was no sense of regret or remorse plaguing me. For what might have been the first time in my life I did not care about what his opinion was on my decision. I did not regret the pain I had experienced at the Queen's hand. I did not regret disobeying my father. Regardless of the outcome, I had actually made a decision on my own, one that was uninfluenced by anyone else.

Following my traumatic experience with Queen Iseult Rhysand had winnowed me back to Velaris... as close as he could get. Rhys had believed that a healer from the city would do a better job at healing my more severe injuries. My father had met him at the border. My beloved brother had interceded for me, informed my father about what I needed, but my father had only returned his intercession with unbroken silence.

My father had then confined me to my bedroom with a spell of his own making. For the past four weeks I had spent my time alone and contemplating what had occurred. This was the punishment for disobedience. I had not eaten. I had barely slept. I had not communicated with anyone. My father's spell had extended into my mind. My brother could not reach me, I could not reach him. The only person who pushed against my woven mental shields was my father, ready to release some anger.

My father had not even allowed a healer to visit. Despite my isolation the majority of my body had mended itself, shattered ribs grew back together and skin sewed itself shut. However, with no healer to assist me the healing was painful. The lack of food offered no ease to my healing as well. I had spent the majority of those weeks lying on the bed in pain or hunger. The only injury that remained was the scar, the triple triangle symbol of Hybern's flag, that the Queen had carved into my thigh. The knife must have been laced with ash, or something much more lethal. There was no way that the wound would not have been healed by now if it had not been.

And now after those weeks of isolation he had sent for me.

    I traced the scar with my finger as I stood before the door, awaiting judgment.

Against my own better judgment, I pushed open the door.

The inside of my father's room was dark. So purely dark it was as if he had enshrouded the room itself in his very own curtain of night. My father often sat in the dark to unnerve his opponents. He had taught Rhysand this and Rhysand had taught me. My father had told my brother that by inviting someone else in darkness you have the upper hand. Your eyes are adjusted and theirs are not. The lack of sight would be enough to unnerve the boldest of courtiers.

But I was not some simpering courtier. I was the daughter of the Night Court. I was a daughter of the High Lord. I never feared the dark. The dark has always been the warm comforting embrace of an old friend, to me. The dark is a protective shroud. It was as all my life I had beheld my father in the light, which was harsh and exposing. Now here in the darkness, I could truly see him for what he was.

And so I pushed forward, against my fear,  until I stood directly before my father.

    "I told you to come home."

    His voice came from his desk, but the room was encased in shadow and I couldn't see him anywhere. I shifted my weight, unable to decide which position would appear most confident. My father seemed to sense these nerves and began drumming with his hand on the desk, a steady and concerning thrum.