Daylight

Chapter 47

Feyre escorted Elain and Lucien to the Inner Circle's cabin, secluded in the woods of the Illyrian Mountains with nothing else around for miles. Feyre remained just long enough to explain how the magic of the cabin and the warding worked and then winnowed away without so much as a goodbye.

Lucien barked out a laugh as he opened the door to the quaint, comfortable cabin. "She couldn't get out of here fast enough. She acted like we were going to just start tearing into each other the second the door opened."

Elain forced a casual laugh. That was exactly what she wanted to do. But she forced herself to exercise restraint. They had the rest of their lives to devour one another. She wandered over to the fireplace but didn't see any tools for stoking the fire.

"Feyre said you just have to ask for what you need, and the cabin provides it," Lucien said, his brows furrowed.

He walked up behind her, his scent overpowering her in the best possible ways.

"But where's the fun in that," he said with a slightly wolfish grin. Lucien balled his fist and when he opened his hand, a tiny ball of flames danced in his palm. The light of it reflected in Elain's eyes as he dropped it onto the dry logs in the hearth. They ignited instantly, crackling and popping as if they'd been burning for hours.

Elain spied the basket of rolls on the sturdy wooden table. She stifled a giggle that he brought it with them.

"Did you get a chance to eat anything at dinner?" She asked him.

"Barely," he replied, his stomach growling for added emphasis. "Did you?"

Elain shook her head. She decided to test the cabin's magic by going into the kitchen and asking for something to eat. A bowl of fruit materialized on the table, along with a platter of cheeses, some biscuits, and a carafe of wine. She collected the food and carried it into the sitting room, setting it down on a low-lying table.

She sat down next to Lucien and pulled the tray into her lap. He had removed his baldric, leaving it in a crumpled pile on the floor next to the sofa.

"It really does provide whatever you ask for," she said as she popped a small cube of cheese into her mouth.

Lucien idly plucked pieces of cheese and a handful of grapes from the tray, munching quietly. Once the cheese and biscuits were gone, Elain set the empty tray back on the table. She readjusted, wincing as she tucked one of her feet beneath her.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," she said dismissively. "Deidre made me a new pair of slippers and they're just not broken in yet. They are adorable and they match my dress, but they pinch my feet something fierce."

She flexed her feet, demonstrating the stiffness of the new shoes. Lucien took her ankle in his rough, calloused hands and slipped the shoe off her foot, revealing her red swollen toes. Elain held her breath as he gently, meticulously massaged her sore foot.

"Oh, you don't have to—"

"Hush," he murmured.

The only sound around them was the soft crackling of the fireplace. Lucien rubbed her foot for another few moments and then gently set it down in his lap. He twitched his fingers, motioning for her to bring her other foot up. She made a weak sound of protest which he ignored. He took her other slipper off and began massaging that foot as well.

Elain leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, her head lolling onto a throw pillow. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this relaxed. This content.

She wanted to ask him about what had happened on the continent and then in the Spring Court, but she suspected that those were all unpleasant stories that were best saved for another day. She let out a soft, audible sigh as Lucien put pressure on the sore spot of her foot.