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A chubby toddler sat on the carpet, a clawed hand in his mouth. He fell, his head hitting the hard floor, even if it was covered. A pause, then cries filled the manor—loud, wailing sobs that sounded like a cat’s yowl. A woman slipped into through the door as a bushy, skinny tail wrapped around the baby.
She wore a simple top that covered her breast and nothing more, paired with a long skirt. Hiked up slightly to give her a better way to trip over the end. Her hair, white as a cloud and fluffy like one too, fell down her back, stopping at the small of her back. A lioness in a fae’s clothing.
He was settled against her chest as she sat on the rocking chair, nuzzling the top of his head. She kissed the top of his head, smiling against it. Once she knew he was asleep, she tucked him back into his crib, pulling her finger away from his hand. She leaned against the crib for a moment, her tail sweeping against the ground.
“How did you get out?” She asked softly, mostly to no one. She paused, then looked down at the lioness.
In its mouth was a letter, with the words—written in cursive she almost couldn’t read—
from the Night Court.
She sighed and left the room, the white lioness following behind her. She closed the door, sitting down on a comfortable lounge chair. She tilted her head, then opened the door, stroking the top of the feline’s head.
Dear, Hesperia.
You’ve been requested in Hewn City by High Lord Rhysand. Do tell if you will be coming out or not, but your audience is most wanted.
- Azriel.
That’s why the writing was pretty. It was Azriel’s. Of course
. She sighed and leaned back, her tail thumping against the ground. The lioness slept at her feet, snoring away as if Hesperia wasn’t in a crisis.
How long has it been since she’s seen Hewn City? Since she’s seen everyone?
She summoned a feather quill and stood, changing spots to a desk before a window. She stared at the night sky, her eyebrows furrowed. Then she wrote, dipping the tip of the quill in ink occasionally. She folded it, put in a envelope, then handed it to the lioness, watching it slip into the fire.
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Hesperia moved through the streets, her bare feet thudding against the ground.
The Court of Nightmares. Something eveyone feared. Herself included.
Her son was swaddled to her chest, peacefully asleep with his thumb in his mouth. Her guards were “discreetly” hanging around.
She didn’t notice how the shadows seemed to pull them away. Two fae—Illyrians—reached out for her, causing her to snap. Just a small threat, a growl. Low and sharp. Enough for them to release her. She glared at them, then held her head high. As if she wasn’t going into a place when fears came to the light.
She felt the presence before she noticed him, her golden eyes darting up to violet ones. Forcing a smile and flashing the sharp teeth, her gaze flickered to the female beside him.
Oh, she was pretty.
She moved closer, tilting her head. She smiled at Rhysand’s frown.
“And you must be the High Lady,” she said, holding the High Lady’s hand. “Feyre, yes? I’ve heard a lot about you, ma’am. Cursebreaker and that bullshit.” She laughed. “But I must know the female who managed to tame Rhys.”
Feyre blinked and glanced over at her mate.
She is?
She questioned, her voice flowing through his mind.
Hesperia. Lady of a Court that has been long forgotten. She’s sweet, don’t worry.
Rhysand promised, patting his mate’s hand. Feyre nodded and stood, bowing. Hesperia smiled, truely this time, and copied her.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” she replied, her eyes catching on the bundle. Around the same age as Nyx, if not a little older. “Who may this sweetheart be?”
“Midas.”
“A darling name. I’d love to introduce him to Nyx, but he’s asleep.”
Hesperia blinked, then chuckled again, hiding her mouth with her hand. She shook her head, her white hair falling slightly as she cocked her head to the side again. “Midas isn’t really one to play. I do apologize; he just doesn’t like other kids.” She explained calmly. “But, enough talk about children.”
Her gaze fell on Rhysand, then darted around. Cassian was standing beside the door, and Azriel materiziled from the shadows.
She didn’t miss that because it just gave her a heart attack.
“You called him for a reason, Rhys.” She began, her nails tapping impatiently against the fabric. “I’d love to talk with your wife more, but I’d like to get whatever you need done first.”
Rhys leaned back and exhaled through his mouth, looking up at her quietly. She waited, watching as he stood. “The High Lords want a meeting.” He replied, looking at her. Not down. Never down. She was as old as him and as respected as him. “I want you to come. Reveal yourself to Prythian and stop hiding like your ancestors before you do.”
She paused, shocked by the demand. Was it a demand or a way to show the rest of the Courts that there were more. She pressed her lips together, looking down. Her hands clenched into fists before she relaxed, her shoulders slumping.
“It was because of your father that my Court hid,” she reminded. Not rude or mocking. Just to tell him. “But I will come back. My land will stay the same—far away from the rest of you.” She said as Midas stirred, whining softly.
The High Lord of the Night Court smiled, just a small quirk of his mouth. He nodded, then turned away, sitting back on the armest of his High Lady’s throne. He snapped his fingers, summoning two people. Nuala and Cerridwen. She followed them, letting them take her away
somewhere.
She founded herself in a large room. A queen-sized bed sat in the middle of a platform, golden, transparent silk covering it. Bookshelves lined the walls, full of things she doesn’t remember having in her Court. A crib sat beside a window, getting a perfect stream of light. She felt the sheets—short. She rested Midas in there, letting him sleep away. She decided to follow after him, collapsing on the bed with her tail curled around her leg.