Wind Wielder

Chapter 38 - Building Broken Bridges

Zara was debating the merit of pulling an Irish goodbye exit at Christmas when she was met with the unseemly sight of a stranger in the living room.

Feyre, Rhys and the others were all gathered in the kitchen still after dinner, clearing plates and the likes. And it had been fine. Actually, Christmas had been great. The food was delicious, the wine was tasty and the softly playing jazz music in the background made for a wonderful, cozy evening.

Only Azriel had not stopped staring at Zara out of the corner of his eye all night, and Elain Archeron had been unable to eat her pie, too busy staring daggers into Zara's head because of it.

And honestly? Zara did not give a fuck about that. Really, she didn't. If Elain really thought she could keep up with Azriel, she was welcome to try. And besides, it wasn't her fault Azriel couldn't stop looking at her. Zara wasn't even wearing anything fancy or Christmas themed, just a pair of leggings and a fuzzy purple sweater with fuzzy socks.

But paired between that, and Nesta Archeron whom the winds informed Zara had been paid to make an appearance at family Christmas, and the glares Nesta had been receiving from Mor and Rhys all night, and the occasional comments Nesta made that did absolutely nothing to mitigate those glares– Zara was ready to go home. More than ready. Hence why she was sneaking out of the kitchen and into the living room where her coat and shoes were, a slice of half eaten cake resting perilously on her palm.

The stranger had just let himself in the front door, and blinked at Zara.

"Hello," Zara greeted quietly. Would this male mind if she just crept past him without pausing for conversation? She wasn't exactly in the mood for small talk.

That was until he removed his hood revealing long fiery red hair that immediately ensnared her interest. Zara paused her movements as she assessed the Autumn Court male. A golden eye surrounded with scars on his tanned handsome face whirred as he took her in. His other, russet eye squinted in what seemed like confusion. "I don't believe we've met before." His tone was accusatory, as if Zara had somehow done something just by being the wrong person to greet him at the door. Perhaps impetuousness was bred into the whole Autumn Court.

"I'm not the stranger who's decided to show up unannounced in their living room." Zara retorted.

His brows flew up as his shoulders tensed. "Their living room?" He asked suspiciously. As if she was somehow the one who had the wrong house.

Zara popped the remaining bite of her cake into her mouth, and wiped her hand on her leggings carelessly. "I assume you have the right house, correct? The High Lord of this Court?"

The male's face twitched, as if he were actively making an effort to conceal his distaste. "And Feyre's," He corrected quietly.

Zara wanted to hit herself over the head for her incompetence, his name floating gently towards her ears on the whispering winds.

"Your Lucien Vanserra," Zara stated. If the male was surprised she knew him he didn't show it. Looking at the seventh son of Beron now, she could see the resemblance he bore to Eris. "Your Feyre's friend from the Spring Court, though if I recall correctly you're also Elain's mate."

Lucien stiffened, clasping his hands behind his back and gave Zara a perfect courtier trained smile. "I wasn't aware that the last part was public information."

Zara smiled slyly, stepping further into the living room, her cloak and boots forgotten. Lucien angled himself so that she remained in his eyesight as Zara walked around him to the couch. Smart. "Every kind of information is public information to me, Lucien."