Chapter Text
Feyre had been about to start a food fight with Cassian when the Autumn court male fell out of the sky.
They were in the dining room, and heard the snap of magic at the same time Azriel’s head shot up.
This noise was followed by a loud,
“Fuck!”
From the balcony on the House of Wind, and instantly they were all on their feet.
Rhys was the first outside, but Feyre was right behind him when she saw Lucien hunched over a cursing, pale-faced Jurian, pressing his hands into a bloody wound.
“Help,” Lucien said without overture, and immediately Feyre saw a shadow slither away from Azriel, no doubt heading for Madja.
“What happened,” Rhys said flatly, as Feyre swooped down towards Jurian. Lucien’s hands were shaking and he looked about ready to fall over as he said,
“Humans.”
Cassian scoffed.
“How the hell did—”
“Faebane,” Lucien said without looking up, and then Feyre knew why Lucien hadn’t healed Jurian himself, why he looked so shaky and out of sorts. He’d been poisoned. It was a miracle he’d managed to winnow them here.
“Az?” Rhys said, and his spymaster nodded, before taking off into the air, to go investigate.
“Is Vassa alright?” Feyre asked as she tapped into her healing magic and began to work over Jurian’s wound.
“She was off flying somewhere,” Lucien gritted out, pressing his palms flat against the stones like he was going to fall over.
Make sure he doesn’t hit his head? Feyre asked Rhys silently, a glance in his direction as her magic worked on Jurian’s wound. She felt the pulse of acknowledgement and a shield behind Lucien.
When Feyre got Jurian’s wound closed, Rhys floated the now-unconscious man off the balcony floor, but when Lucien stood up to follow he stumbled, before Feyre steadied him with an arm around his back.
She felt the flicker of jealous protectiveness from Rhys and gave him a stern look.
Sorry, old habits, He said, as Feyre helped Lucien shuffle into the House.
“Let’s get you somewhere you can sit,” Feyre offered, and then noticed the damp patch on Lucien’s leg.
“You’re hurt!” She exclaimed, “Lucien why didn’t you—”
She didn’t finish, because the red-haired male slumped forward and vomited on the stone.
“Oh, fuck me,” Cassian cursed, stepping back as the sick splashed his shoes.
“Get him to a bed, I need to stop the bleeding.”
“It’s fine, F—Freyra,” Lucien slurred, “I’m not…” His sentence petered out when he slumped unconscious against Feyre, who caught him with a grunt before Rhys swooped in.
“Bloody Vanserra’s,” Cassian scowled again, shaking his boot, “Can’t enjoy a meal in peace.”
***
“Well he won’t die,” Nesta said unceremoniously, coming back into the study form where she’d been observing Madja looking after both Jurian and Lucien.
“Bloodbane arrows,” Cassian shook his head, “How in the cauldron did humans get their hands on bloodbane arrows.”
And not just any, Feyre thought, but exceptionally powerful bloodbane arrows, if one shot to the leg could put Lucien in such a state. He wasn’t a weak male by any means.
“I think we’ll need to have a little chat with Dawn court,” Rhys said coolly, “Last I checked they were the ones who had started a new trade deal with the humans.”
“Trading fae weaponry now?” Nesta raised an eyebrow.
“Let’s certainly hope not,” Cassian snorted.
“Unfortunately Rhys is right—”
They all startled when Azriel appeared out of nowhere.
“Mother’s tits,” Cassian cursed, “That’s the third time this week, Az.”
Azriel gave his approximation of a knowing smirk.
“You think the arrows came from Dawn court?” Rhys clarified, and the winged male nodded.
“I suppose Lucien failed to mention in his dispatches that they’ve been dealing with a rogue group of humans who are opposed to the local governor’s stance on friendly Fae relations. They raided Lucien and Jurian’s house as a sign of their… displeasure. At least a hundred men. Maybe thirty of them survived. Thankfully the governor himself has condemned them and isn’t likely to start a war over it.”
Feyre raised her eyebrows and even Cassian looked impressed.
“You’re saying Lucien and Jurian took out seventy armed humans while fighting faebane?”
Azriel gave a non-committal shrug, and Cassian whistled.
“I didn’t know the little guy had it in him.”
“Stop being patronizing, Cassian,” Feyre chided, “He’s as good a warrior as any.”
Cass and Rhys exchanged a look that said they most certainly did not share her opinion. She rolled her eyes.
“Alright just because he’s not an Illyrian.”
“He’s a glorified messenger, Feyre; I’m not being cruel, just honest,” Cassian said, and Azriel shrugged in agreement.
“He fought Hybern the same as all of us,” Feyre reminded primly, “And he did more than his share against his brothers when we were escaping the Spring court.”
“As I recall, you had to be rescued by yours truly,” Cassian put in with a cocky smirk.
“Because we were both fighting faebane,” Feyre retorted.
“Sure, sure,” Cassian shrugged, and Nesta put in.
“Regardless of his skill as a fighter, he’s a good diplomat. Why don’t we send him to Dawn Court to investigate? If they’re so chummy with the humans they’ll probably want to make nice with him.”
“I know one Dawn female in particular who would like to make nice with him,” Cassian murmured with a smirk, and Feyre frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Rhys rolled his eyes.
“Fanerah, the head of the trade guild in Dawn Court is a female who is known for her… particular tastes.”
“She has a thing for gingers,” Azriel said flatly, and Cassian just grinned.
“It’s perfect! Send him in there to find out if they’ve been trading faebane arrows with the humans; she wouldn’t be able to resist getting a taste of him.”
“No,” Feyre said firmly.
“Oh, come on, the little guy could stand to let off some steam.”
“He is a bit tense,” Rhys agreed with a wry smirk.
“And Fanerah’s a good female, just a bit… eager.”
Cassian was grinning like a cat.
“It’ll be good for him to stick his—”
“We’re not asking him to do that, end of story,” Feyre snapped, and it seemed her brother finally took note of the fact that she wasn’t laughing along with him. She felt Rhysand’s questioning tug on the bond, but remained silent.
“Someone should tell Elaine what’s going on,” Nesta said, thankfully filling the sudden tension.
“He’s not dead ,” Azriel said flatly, receiving a sharp look from Rhys.
“No, but she’ll have felt it,” Nesta shrugged, “She’ll be worried.”
“Feyre and I will go tell her,” Rhys volunteered, feeling Feyre’s growing ire with her brothers.
“Az, let me know if anything develops with either of them.”
Azriel gave a curt nod, and the room dispersed, Cassian clearly trying to figure out what he’d done to offend Feyre.
“You were really… coming to his defense in there,” Rhysand commented when they’d winnowed down to the townhouse. Feyre shrugged.
“Does he not deserve defending?” She said, stepping through the quiet entryway, assuming that Elaine was in the garden.
“Does he?” Rhys raised an eyebrow, “I always thought our feelings on Lucien were rather… neutral.”
Feyre sighed, hand on the back door.
“I don’t know, Rhys, the further I get from everything… the more I feel like I’ve been blaming him for things that he had no control over. What right do I have to resent him? He didn’t do anything to me.”
Rhys’ eyes grew hard.
“He left you to Tamlin; he helped betray us to Hybern, he—”
“I know, I know,” Feyre raised a hand, “I just mean that…”
She let out a long sigh, and looked down at her tattooed fingers.
“Tamlin abused him first. And worse. He hit Lucien even when he wouldn’t hit me. Used his powers on him, knowing Lucien couldn’t match him. And if I was trapped, how do you think he felt?”
She looked up at her mate.
“Tamlin gave him shelter, and he could take away that shelter in an instant, leaving him at the mercy of his brothers. He had no one but Tamlin, and still he risked his relationship to try and help me. Maybe he didn’t do enough, I don’t know. But he tried. I know he tried.”
She shook her head.
“The amount of times I heard Tamlin screaming at him, the amount of bruises, the way Lucien tip-toed around him, flinched at the slightest sign of anger, and what he let Ianthe…”
Feyre let out a huff of air and looked away, the old memories dredging up old feelings. She felt Rhys’ soft hand on her arm, waiting patiently.
She looked back up at him.
“I was drowning and you pulled me out.”
She pressed a hand to Rhys’ chest.
“...but he had no one to pull him out, and yet he’s here. Doing his best.”
She turned towards the door.
“I just think he deserves the same compassion you all offered me.”
Rhys was quiet for a moment, and she didn’t move, feeling the words hovering between them. She had come to the realization slowly, over the past several months, after Nyx was born. The more she reflected on everything, the less she felt bitter towards the Autumn Court male who’d always at least tried to do right by her. Who’d ever protected Lucien? From the moment of his birth he was threatened, never truly safe, never truly belonging anywhere. And yet he was kind, she couldn’t deny that. He had been her first friend in Prythian, even before Tamlin. And she hadn’t done a very good job of repaying that friendship.
“What were you going to say? About Ianthe?” Rhys said quietly, when she’d stayed for a moment with her hand on the doorknob.
Her eyes flicked towards his, then back to the garden where Elain waited—Lucien’s mate, whom he’d kept away from out of respect for Elain’s wishes, despite the fact that it had to be excruciating.
No, she didn’t think she’d done right by him at all.
“Promise you won’t tell the others?” She asked, and Rhys nodded.
Feyre’s mouth thinned.
“She assaulted him. Sexually. On Calanmai first, and then… again in the woods before we fled. Possibly more, I don’t know.”
"So when Cassian was joking about using him to get to the Dawn Court female..." Rhys said in a carefully even voice, and Feyre nodded. It had been an unfortunately-timed barb on Cassian's part; she knew if her brother was aware of the situation he wouldn't have been so crass.
She could feel her mate's sudden stillness, the way Rhys' breath had gone low. Perhaps she should’ve warned him; even hearing about these things could be triggering to someone with his past. But she felt a thread of thought from him to continue.
“Tamlin knew about Calanmai, he’s the one who put Lucien in that situation in the first place,” Feyre said briskly, “But he didn’t apologize, didn’t reprimand Ianthe or stop her. Like their centuries of friendship meant nothing. Like he meant nothing. I can’t imagine how awful that must have felt.”
Feyre sighed.
“It’s not my story to tell, but I thought maybe you would… well. That you could be someone he might talk to about that.”
Rhys gave her a skeptical look.
“I know, I know,” She sighed again, “He’d probably be more likely to open up to Amren than to you.”
Rhys snorted.
“Not a bad idea,” He quipped, “She always helped me get my head on straight, at least.”
Feyre smiled wryly, but the smile grew sad.
“I think I could’ve done better by him,” She said, “And I think now I might be ready to… build back those bridges. To work through all the complicated mess and the hard feelings so that he could really be a part of this court.”
“Is that what you want? For him to be a part of our court?”
Our court, even after three years that didn’t get old.
Feyre smiled.
“I think he could be a dreamer. If someone gave him the chance.”