A Court of Secrets and Moonlight

42: Wooden Boxes

Rhysand

500 years ago

The whole room was spinning.

I was already most of the way through the bottle of top shelf whiskey, my fourth this week purchased with my father's tab. I'd already been called up to the House of Wind once so he could berate me for being so careless with our funds. As if it mattered, as if anything mattered anymore.

He had let Amarantha live. That bitch was still walking free, taking up space, breathing air she did not deserve. The fucking least he could do was buy me a few bottles of whiskey.

It wasn't like he couldn't afford it.

The "wages" he paid me had all gone towards buying this townhouse in the heart of the city. Currently, it only housed a bed, an icebox, an old table, and a ratty couch. Nothing else, no life, no personality. All I ever used it for was to get drunk and sulk, so why bother decorating?

I was supposed to be at Windhaven right now, waiting for my mother and sister to arrive so we could all go up to the cabin together. I had spent the majority of my day training with Tamlin, wanting to be anywhere but here, wanting to think abut anything but this. I had told him of our plans tomorrow, of how we were all meeting as a day to regroup after so much time and chaos of the war and the months that followed. He had looked sad when I told him, was more down than I had seen him in a long time. I knew the feeling. I didn't know how I could pretend to be fine, how I could act like everything was okay for an entire day tomorrow without spending the night drinking away my pain. So, I'd sent a note up to the camp lord advising them that I'd meet them there in the morning.

Amren burst through the door just as I finished the bottle, smashing it against the wall as I threw it. How she had managed to track me down, how she even knew I'd be in this house that I hadn't told anyone I bought yet was beyond me. I didn't know and didn't care. I straightened a bit as her silver eyes landed on me, drunk and broken on this shitty couch.

"We need to talk." She hissed at me, shoes crunching on broken glass as she walked.

"Bring me another bottle of whiskey, and then I'll talk." I slurred, laying my head down on the couch.

Let her kill me, put me out of my damn misery.

Small, strong hands gripped my arms- hauling me to a sitting position as the room started spinning again. "No more whiskey. You're drunk enough, boy."

I groaned, the couch creaking as I sat back, my head rushing, "Fuck."

"You need to get your shit together, and fast." She spat.

"Why?" I questioned sarcastically, "Is there another war to fight?"

A best of silence, "There could be."

"Great. Hopefully this one kills me." I hissed.

Power, hot and dark, gripped me. It coursed through my blood, my very bones, burning from the inside out. It was excruciating, but there one moment and gone the next. I didn't even have time to wince before I opened my eyes, my body completely sober now.

"That whiskey was fucking expensive, and you wasted it." I bit out.

"I don't have time for your pathetic bullshit, Rhysand. Where is your sister?" She hissed.

I blinked at her, at the anger in her tone, the seriousness in her voice. Leur and Amren had a strange relationship, always halfway fighting and halfway best friends. I didn't want to know why Amren needed to see her.

"She's at Windhaven." I answered.

"I already checked there." Amren's voice was cold. Something else lurked in her eyes, something like worry.