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Foliara hated heights. They terrified her. So, as grateful as she had been to Rhysand, Lord of the Night Court, for rescuing her a couple weeks before, spending her days at the House of Wind was causing her a lot of anxiety. The House of Wind having been built into the middle and largest peak of the mountains that stretched above the northern portion of Valeris, the City of Dreams, the capital of the Night Court, hence why she was struggling to go about her life as if she were on the ground.
In truth, she hadn’t even heard of Velaris before Rhysand had brought her there. Like the rest of Prythian, she had only ever heard of the Court of Nightmares and had never considered there might be more to the Night Court.
“It's my court's most well-guarded secret” The High Lord had informed her upon their arrival, “One that I intend to keep, so your discretion in the matter would be very much appreciated.”
Foliara had been all too willing to agree to that, if it meant she’d be permitted to stay, because she had no one and nowhere to go back to. Her only issue lay in the specific building she’d been isolated in since her arrival in the secret city. Logically, she understood why Rhysand had brought her there, it was somewhere she could see but not touch the city laid out before her. That was on the rare occasions she managed to work up the courage to look out a window. Mountains and towering buildings weren't exactly common where she'd grown up.
Foliara had been born and raised in the Autumn Court, which was fairly evident to anyone who saw her. Her Long curly red hair possessed a metallic tinge and it fell well beyond her waist, often blowing into her blazing bronze eyes, giving away her heritage almost immediately. She possessed the usual gift of fire that most high fae of the Autumn Court did, and to top it all off her name meant fall. Anyone who had ever seen her away from her home, had known precisely where she’d journeyed from. But simply because she belonged in terms of abilities, appearances and names didn’t mean the Autumn Court was where she felt happy or safe.
Ever since her father had died in The War fifty years earlier and her mother had followed five years later, the Autumn Court had stopped feeling like home and had instead become her own personal hell. With no one around to deter the attentions of wayward fae males that lived in her native court, Foliara had suddenly found herself facing a great deal of unwanted attention. It had started with some teasing and simple flirtatious remarks, which she had elected to ignore. In hindsight, she regretted that. If she’d shut them down sooner, they wouldn't never have grown so bold and felt the need to test her limits further.
Foliara had been unable to escape the Autumn Court with her virtue intact, meaning her dignity had been left in tatters. At night, even knowing she had escaped and was safe, when she closed her eyes, she could still feel their unwanted hands exploring and holding her down as she screamed and begged them to stop.
With no one to care that she had vanished, a group of them had kept her like their own sort of pet for two months before she had finally managed to escape. They hadn’t given her a choice in the matter, simply used her how they wished, and they hadn’t been punished for it.
Not before Rhysand.
Foliara had been running away as fast as her fae legs could carry her, not having any destination in mind. She had simply wanted to get out of their reach for good. Unfortunately, being trapped and fed only scraps of food for two months had made her attempted escape difficult. Shortly after she’d heard their roars of outrage at her disappearance, they had been thundering after her, following her scent using their enhanced fae senses. There had still been miles till the Autumn Court border where she could have escaped and been able to seek sanctuary in the Winter Court. It would have been cold as hell, but at that point anywhere would have been better than Autumn.
The border to the Winter Court had just come into her sights, the burnished reds and oranges of her native court shifting into the blinding white of snow. That had been when they’d caught her, and she had been thanking the Cauldron every day since then that that had been the moment when Rhysand had been traveling back to his own territory. He had seen her struggling against her captors and had come down to help. That had been the first and only time she had seen him use his powers. He had reached into their minds and scrambled them, leaving the scum to rot, and honestly, she’d felt nothing when they died. Not a single ounce of pity for them. She wasn’t sure if that made her a terrible person, but after what they had done to her, they didn’t deserve her remorse or forgiveness.
After that the Night Court had been heaven. Or it would have if the House of Wind wasn't so damn high up that she could barely get through a day without panicking.
Tonight, Rhysand had promised to take her to meet his inner circle, his closest group of friends at his town house, which thank the cauldron, was on the ground. Lovely, sturdy, solid ground. She hadn’t been sure what sort of dinner this was or what to wear so she had gone with a simple black dress that ended just below her knees and shimmered in the light. With a little cream sweater and some black heels, she deemed herself good to go. She just had to work up enough courage to wait for Rhysand in the hall nearest the balcony.
So far Foliara had managed to hide her fear from him, the fear feeling too personal and inconsequential considering everything. Perhaps after tonight she could just stay down in the city and not have to worry about the height of the House of Wind anymore. She just had to get there first.
Foliara was pacing in the hall close to her room, one of the few places that didn’t have windows, when Rhysand appeared, eyes gleaming violet and his hands tucked into the pocket of his dark pants.
“Ready to go?” He asked with a smile.
“I suppose.” She responded quietly, unsure if she was going to be able to feel any more prepared to meet the inner circle of the infamous High Lord of the Night Court, someone who up until a few weeks before had been nothing but an ominous legend, despite what she knew of him now.
“We best be going then, the others will get restless if we keep them waiting any longer.”
To her surprise he stepped forward and scooped her up, one strong arm holding her legs and the other around her back.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” She questioned as he began walking with purpose towards her least favorite part of the house, the expansive balcony.
He didn’t answer with words, instead he smirked at her, and his wings materialized at his back, her face falling with horror.
“No, no, no, Rhysand, put me down!” She said sternly, trying to squirm out of his hold.
“I’ve carried many people this way, don’t worry.” He said, likely assuming she was experiencing an average level of fear, when in reality being so close to the edge of the balcony would have been debilitating had she been on her own two feet.
Before she had a chance to correct his assumptions, he unfurled his wings and wind rushed to meet them as he hopped off the sturdy structure. Foliara screamed as he allowed them to free fall for a moment before casting his wings out widely and catching an updraft of wind. Taking them soaring high across the night sky of Velaris.
Foliara clasped the fabric of Rhysand’s shirt so tight her knuckles were bloodless, and tucked her head into the crook of his neck, all of her muscles tensed. Cauldron boil her, this was her worst nightmare!
“Open your eyes, you’re missing the best part.” Rhysand told her, with the confident tone of someone who was used to being hundreds of feet above the ground on a regular basis.
“I can’t.” She muttered, shaking her head, and clutching him even tighter as a gust of wind hit them and he had to adjust a bit to ensure he kept them on a steady trajectory.
“Goodness, if I’d known all I had to do to get you to hold onto me was to take you for a fly, I would have done so a lot sooner.” Rhysand teased, and she was reminded of just how young he was compared to many of the fae she knew. He was around 80, sure, but for Fae that was nothing, the blink of an eye and though he was trying to be charming, he was failing immensely.
“Please put me down.” She managed to murmur, surprised her voice still worked given the terror flowing through her veins.
“You know I’d never drop you, right?” He responded, his voice sounding more serious.
“Rhysand, please!” She practically begged, tears pricking at her eyes at the thought of the unforgiving ground below them.
“It’s quite a long walk down the stairs, I thought you’d prefer this.” He explained, and she could tell from the cold bite of the wind they were still very high up.
“I’m scared of heights!” She finally blurted, breathing quickly as she began to hyperventilate, unable to keep herself calm any longer.
“Cauldron boil me!” He muttered apologetically, and she felt him begin to take them lower. The process was slow, though she had a feeling that it was because he was trying not to send them plummeting to the ground, which she appreciated, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”
“I know.” She squeaked, her eyes still closed tight enough, it was on the verge of being painful.
After what felt like an eternity he landed gently and set her down, her legs feeling as though they didn’t have bones within to support them when her feet finally touched solid ground.
“Are you alright?” He asked, his violet eyes filled with concern and apology.
“Alright is a bit relative at this point.” She managed to mutter, shaking her head to try to dispel the lingering fear that was still coursing through her body. Her heart was still pounding even though she was comfortably on the ground.
“I am so sorry.” He apologized again, looking like he wished to turn back time so he could have a second do over for the last five minutes.
“It’s not your fault. I never told you.” She shrugged, smiling weakly, her legs still feeling wobbly, “Though I must confess I don’t exactly feel up to eating right now.”
Rhysand sighed, but nodded in understanding, “Am I correct in assuming that you have no desire to return to the House of Wind?” Foliara just nodded and he accepted that without any visible disappointment, “Perhaps it would be best if we found you your own lodging and you can begin establishing yourself here.”
Foliara smiled softly at the thought. Ever since her parents had passed, she hadn’t had the liberty of deciding what she wished to do with her life, so the idea of being able to have a fresh start was more appealing than she could voice in that moment.
“I’d like that.”
Rhysand nodded, his wings disappearing into nothing more than wisps of night curling around his shoulders, residue of his ever-present powers, the only indication they’d been there at all.
“I’ll take you to the artists’ quarter, hopefully we can find something suitable for you there.”
“Thank you, Rhysand, truly. And I'm sorry about all that.”
“Don’t worry, the artists’ quarter is on solid ground.”
“Thank the Mother, because I am not built for mountains.” Foliara laughed.