A Court of Cold and Quiet

Chapter One

Word Count: 1588 (Not much, I know. But better than the Prologue, I suppose.)

I played with my long hair, staring at the mirror with my head cocked to the side, one of my overly large ears brushing my shoulder. I was so pale, you could see the veins running beneath my skin. I was okay with it though. No one ever came to stay in the in-between. They were always too busy folding the world in two because speedy arrivals are apparently of the utmost importance. I wore a black top with red beaded embellishments that fell an inch above my naval paired with a flowing black skirt with a sash matching the top. I swayed my hips twice, liking the way the silky sheer fabric swished at my ankles and tickled my bare feet. Reluctantly, I turned away and thinned the space between my realm and the one the Fae live in, searching until I found the right place.

A beautiful castle sat beside the shore, waves crashing against one side and I walked among its halls, unseen. I came upon the room I was looking for and pushed through the door, my body tingling slightly as the wood tried to stop my passage. The room was beautiful and filled with pretty people sitting in a wide circle around a low table that some had their feet propped up on, talking over each other, straining to be heard among the ever rising orchestra of voices synchronizing together into a volley of piercing darts aimed at my too sensitive ears. I grabbed at my ears and shoved them flat against the side of my face and ran to the side of the only silent person in the room. 

Azriel's shoulders stiffened when a shadow curled under his ear, whispering to him that I had arrived. I found that he kept tabs on me as well as Amren who was currently sitting near Varian. Azriel relaxed his taunt muscles and glanced to his left, where I stood slightly behind him, still holding my ears down to muffle the roaring chatter as best I could. As the High Lords and their company conversed among themselves. Mor, the bloody bitch, was gossiping with Viviane and Feyre about something Cassian had done to Nesta and Kallias stood to the side. Rhysand conversed quietly with Tarquin beside Beron who was scolding some poor servant as his many sons conversed among themselves, save for Eris, who was busy securing Tamlin's approval for when he would undoubtedly take over as High Lord of the Autumn Court within the next three months. Helion was chatting up one of Thesan's Peregryn warriors while he watched, amused at the pink burning on the peregryn's cheeks.

I took it all in before turning my attention to the only one who truly mattered in the entire room. I drank the sight of him like he was a wine reserved for only the most important of occasions. He was tall and broad, with tanned skin and massive wings. He was what most would call 'classically beautiful' but I saw more in those near-unreadable hazel eyes. I saw the tightness of his shoulders and the creases in his brow caused by worry and responsibility. I saw the tiny, white scars that were scattered beneath the more noticeable war trophies from wounds that have long since healed. I saw the tilt in his lips, almost imperceptible to even the most diligently trained eye. I saw it all, and I loved it. And I was smug when I read Azriel better than the Morrigan ever could--not that she even cared enough to want to notice.

Azriel's eyes were trained on the space behind me, searching for a quiver in the air that only he could see with the assistance of his trusted shadows. It was the only sign of my presence. After about a million more minutes of screaming, the noise quieted and I dared to uncover my ears. It was bearable so I relaxed and sat on the floor beside Azriel's chair. Upon closer examination, I noticed the white floor had ivory designs reminiscent of the ocean on each tile. I got more comfortable, slumping against the chair and gazing about through the misty gaze I wouldn't ever shake unless I were to step fully into their realm. But I wouldn't do that. I looked up and smiled at the man sitting in the chair, focused on the words of one of the High Lords I didn't care to listen to. 

Azriel tilted his head slightly upwards to the right and back a bit, something I learned he does when his High Lord is speaking to him, mind to mind. I wished to listen in on the conversation no others were privy to, but I refrained from snooping. I didn't think Azriel would like that overmuch.  After a couple minutes, Azriel sat straighter and spoke. His deep, baritone voice washed over me, soothing my ears and I listened carefully to what he had to say.

"I have reason to believe Vallahan and Rask are planning to finish what Hybern tried to start." He didn't say much and yet he had the whole room's attention. Everything was silent and I could hear the heartbeats of all the Fae in the room and two servants listening in from the safety of the hallway. Silent, so silent. 

And then it was not so silent. Everyone erupted into conversation and the noise quickly escalated into a thundering roar. I clapped my hands ever my ears but it did nothing to stop my sensitive ears from aching. It was so loud, it felt as if the insides of my ears were being ripped apart by the noise. 

Quickly as I could, I withdrew from the edge of the Fae realm and receded deeper and deeper into the quiet and the cold of my grey realm. I crumpled to the ground, my pretty black skirts snagging on something and ripping but I couldn't focus on that. All I could feel was pain. It hurt. It hurt so bad, worse than any pain I'd ever felt before. After hours of crouching on the ground, I stood up, swaying slightly as I did. I walked until I was home, a space where I kept all of the things I collected from the other realms. I had mirrors and chairs and lots of pillows and blankets. 

I also had a huge bookcase that was twice my height and thrice the span of my arms, finger tip to finger tip, when I hold my arms out to my sides. I stored all of the bolts of fabric I collected. I had them coordinated by color and looking at them made my ears do the happy flappy-- something my ears do when I'm happy or content in varying degrees of speed. When I'm content, they flutter more than flap, but when I'm happy, they flap on full blast. Beside the bookcase was a dresser that held all of her lace and trimmings and beads and strings. 

I absolutely adored creating something beautiful to wear. I had a wardrobe full to bursting with my designs. While I preferred the heavily embellished two piece outfits much like the one I wore today, I also had tunics and pants and dresses and coats. I took the tray of beads off the dresser and plopped down on my soft pile of many pillows. I started adding black and grey glass beads to a dark purple top I had recently hand dyed and thought back to what Azriel had said. 

Hybern's war was only just over fourteen years ago. I remember bits and pieces. There were a lot of people who winnowed then. I remembered a couple of twins who I knew to be daemati. I was one too, just not nearly as skilled as them. I could only listen in on other conversations because the link was vulnerable to outside forces. But I remember, that was the first time I had noticed Azriel. He was so beautiful with his shadows curling at his feet and shoulders and my young eyes did not know what he was until much later, after the war. Rask and Vallahan were two Fae kingdoms from the mainland who had sided with Hybern. I didn't venture near that side of the sea much, preferring the fabrics Prythian had to offer more so than the ones they had. The fabrics from Rask were scratchy and Vallahan had no taste for color whatsoever. Was it really true that they were considering going back to war? 

I looked down at the shirt in my hands to see the beading resembled the shadows that accompanied the shadowsinger. I smiled. It wasn't that uncommon at all for me to make patterns such as these when I was so lost in thought. My smile slipped though. Azriel had almost died in the last war. I stood abruptly, the tray clattering to the ground, beads spilling everywhere. I turned East in the general direction of the mainland.

I was going to find out if they truly did plan on a new war. Prythian wouldn't have any tricks to pull this time. The weaver and the bone carver was dead, Amren could no longer turn into a frightening creature of death to kill off an army of thousands, and the High Lords were still putting their damaged courts back together. 

I couldn't allow another war to take place. It would kill Azriel and that, that would kill me. And I did not fancy dying very much.

Hello there, fare readers. I hope you like it. If you do, don't be scared to vote. Comment whether you like it or not. I'm open to suggestions and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. Y'all have yourselves a good day and a better night.