Vel, an Oracle older than Prythian itself, visits the Autumn Court at the request of its High Lord. While there she gets swept up in the court's political scheming, with Eris trying to win her favor using any means necessary. But all is not what it...
Those twelve days in Viborg were the best of my five hundred years of life. Waking up next to her every day, witnessing how the first rays of sun caressed her face in the morning, basking in her affections. It was a beautiful dream. I don't dare think that this could one day be our life.
"What are you most scared of?" I asked her on our third day together, while we were having a breakfast that could have been lunch. But what I really wanted to ask was what stopped her from accepting the mating bond. This was just a roundabout way of trying to find out. What was this fearsome creature afraid of?
Vel pushed around the eggs on her plate. "You first."
"I'm scared that I will die before I accomplish my goal. I put in all this work, I pushed everyone away, I made them think I'm a monster. My own mother might think I'm just like him. If I die, and Beron is still High Lord, it would all be for nothing." It was the truth, and somehow not, so I went on, "But I think more than that, I'm scared that I will accomplish my goal and I will become just like him. That there is no escaping the Vanserra name and all of its bloody traditions."
Her slender hand slid into mine over the table. "You're a good male Eris. I don't need to see your future to know that. And you are nothing like your father." She gave me such a bright smile that I believed her. Because how would such a beautiful soul be able to love a rotten one? Love – I had to remind myself that she'd never said that word. Only fate tied her to me.
"Your turn," I said, not letting those thoughts crowd me too long.
"There are too many things that haunt my nightmares. That my sins will one day catch up to me. That I don't belong here. That we are living on borrowed time, and that you will be taken from me if I allow myself to care for you too deeply."
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A hunt would be the perfect thing to clear his mind. If not for the thrill of it, at least it would allow him to release some of his pent up frustration—and magic. A bead of sweat tickled the back of his neck before disappearing beneath his collar. His hunting leathers felt too tight, the air around him too hot.
Eris couldn't get out of the Forest House quickly enough, only stopping by the kennels to release the hounds. Then they were off, him galloping towards the forest, the smokehounds giving chase. The cool morning air offered a brief respite from the searing heat beneath his skin, but it wasn't enough. His need for release had become more urgent, his hunting trips growing increasingly frequent. With five days since his last excursion, his magic chafed against its confines, yearning for freedom. A few more minutes, and he would be far enough from the Forest House, far enough from the wards and the patrols and the permanent watchful eyes of his father's agents.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. Was he being followed? It wouldn't be the first time he had to shake off a tail, but with his current state, Eris hesitated to rely on winnowing. Releasing his magic in such a small increment risked unleashing a torrent that could breach the dam he had carefully erected to contain his power. So he slowed his horse to a canter. There was no need to winnow, he could get out of this with his words.
