A Court of Stars and Memories

25. Marks of Ink and Blood

Lysander lay awake long after his parents had left and Estelle and Mikael had gone to bed. Sleep would not come for him once again, and the fact was partially owed to the pain in his thighs.

He couldn't find a comfortable position that didn't result in the raw wounds touching each other through his pants. They were taking longer to heal this time. Lysander twisted onto his back with a frustrated groan and slid out of bed.

He left his bedroom, not even bothering to pull a shirt on. Lysander padded quietly down the hall and entered the art studio. He closed the door softly, though he knew Estelle and Mikael wouldn't notice or bother him.

They were either doing one of two things, sleeping or fucking. They wouldn't hear him regardless, and he doubted they'd want to come see what he was doing. They knew he often struggled to sleep at night.

It ran in the family. Estelle used to struggle as well, and Azriel had told him that there was a time when he'd only slept a few hours each night, if he slept at all.

Lysander set a blank canvas on the easel and began to paint. He already had an image in his mind. One that filled him with shame and disgust, and one he had to get rid of if he was going to manage to get a little sleep.

He didn't even need a reference for this painting. His hand knew the pattern by memory. He'd only replaced skin with canvas and blade with brush. He carved the words onto his painting just as he'd carved them into his inner thighs, over and over again.

Two words that carried the weight of a thousand. Two words that had haunted him since that night long ago, when his father and sister had returned home in tatters. Two words that would never cease to plague him, no matter how many times he branded them into his skin.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

He pushed himself to his feet, not even bothering to clean his paintbrush. He left his gory painting where it sat and breezed down the stairs. Lysander strode out the front door and launched into the air the minute he entered the courtyard.

The night held the cold bite of autumn. It was setting in fully now. Rain would come soon, then snow. Lysander drew a deep breath and let himself glide over the Rainbow. There were still parties in full swing. Vibrant lanterns coated the streets in swathes of color, and lilting music reached his pointed ears.

Lysander angled himself out of sight of the festivities and flew towards a quieter part of town near the Sidra. He could see Rhys and Feyre's estate and across from it, only a few blocks away, was the roof of his parents' house.

Lysander perked up as the house came into view. Someone was sitting out on his old balcony. Moonlight smiled down upon Mitsi's snowy waves, as if reflecting in a mirror.

Almost without realizing it, he flew towards her. Mitsi spotted him moments before he arrived. She sat up straighter, clasping her hands in her lap. "Couldn't sleep?" Lysander asked, landing smoothly on the rail that encircled the balcony. He sat down and let his wings hang slack over the other side.

"No, there's too much on my mind," Mitsi replied. "You?"

"Likewise." He tilted his head as Mitsi averted her eyes. "Mom said you were worried about me after our conversation with Celeste."

Mitsi's features blanched in horror and her head whipped up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get involved. I just..."

"It's all right," Lysander reassured her. "Mom would've found out one way or another. I suppose it's better that she learned from you instead of someone else."

Mitsi didn't answer and her gaze swept over him before falling to her lap. A slow smile spread across his lips as he noticed the blush lingering in her cheeks. Her gaze flitted towards him once more, then back to her hands.