A Court of Separation and Scars

2.

Excerpt from A Complete History of Prythian:

The Final Battle of Spring was one of the strangest in the entirety of Prythian's history. With the Stone of Thanat possessing its first and only user, former High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court, and his eventual death with the completion of the blood bargain, the ending of the battle was to be entirely in favor of the fae not set to win.

After the battle was over, the High Lords (and Lady) and chosen cadres of each court came together to share resources for the reparations needed against Tamlin's destruction. This would be the most recent time that all courts have met together. At this meeting, it was suggested (by whom, nobody knows) and voted on to make Lucien Vanserra the High Lord of Spring in the deceased Tamlin's place.

Vanserra, newly revealed son of Helion Spellcleaver (see: Day Court) and Marigold Vanserra (see: Scandals Within Autumn), now leads the strongest era of Spring ever seen, alongside his wife, mate, and High Lady, Elain Archeron-Vanserra.

Velaria

She shot her hand out, a burst of purple flame spiraling in the same direction. She felt a sense of triumph, but then–

The flame extinguished, just before it hit its mark.

Velaria groaned, and shot her hand out again.

This time, it spiraled out, then towards her. She ducked, feeling the flame singe the very top of her head.

"Trying to aim for me, darling?"

Velaria whipped around to find her mate staring at her, his shadows circling around her purple flame. She waved a hand and thankfully, this time it worked and it went out.

"Using the name that should not be said, Azriel?" she retorted, closing the gap between them.

Her mate, as always, looked absolutely stunning. His hair was tousled with a slight bit of sleep, those deep hazel eyes with their usual sparkle. He wore a simple black tunic, the top buttons unlatched to reveal bronze skin marked with ink. And sweatpants. He wore freaking gray sweatpants. Cauldron, he was trying to kill her.

Azriel raised an eyebrow at what was likely her staring at him for a moment too long. "It is not my fault if your last name is a common term of endearment," he said.

Velaria rolled her eyes, silencing him with a kiss. "Still," she said after they broke apart, "no one uses it anymore."

"Your brother does."

She waved a hand. "My brother does whatever he wishes."

"And you don't?" he asked.

"That's different," she said firmly. "I'm special."

Azriel chuckled, putting his arms over her shoulders. He leaned down to kiss her. "Yes, you are, Velaria," he said. "Very special."

Velaria leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort that rapidly spread through her. She took in the moment, letting her unease from training melt away as her best friend held her.

"What were you doing out here so late, Az?" she asked quietly after a moment.

"I was checking on you."

Velaria sighed. "I'm fine."

"I know you are." He pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head. "I'm still worried."

"I..." She let out a breath. "It's not working."

A muscle feathered in his jaw. "It's been two weeks of your power not working, Vel," he said, fear creeping into his voice. "I'd be lying if I said that didn't scare me."