Chapter Text
The vibrant red and gold stain of the forest was muted by a silver fog that had rolled in. Usually, it was a hindrance during a hunting trip: the mist flooded the air with the smell of dew, dulling any scents of nearby prey, and it obscured any distant surroundings, making it nearly impossible to see.
But it made no difference to Eris today. In fact, he preferred it: the fog seemed to cool everything, including the white hot thoughts in his head.
It never lasted, unfortunately. And since he was heading back to the Forest House, those flaming thoughts would rise up again as soon as he passed through the front gates.
Beron had sent away the majority of the Forest House residence to host a trading meeting with Day. His sons were also excluded, which meant this trading agreement warranted secrets. But despite the confidentiality, none of Eris’ brothers protested because it meant they had time to breathe and relax without their father’s watching eyes and criticizing tongue.
But it also meant they were facing an unknown. Because if the meeting didn’t go Beron’s way…his wrath would turn to them. And their father became dangerous when he didn’t get what he wanted.
Eris continued on his trail to the Forest House. Since he was not included in the meeting, he had some free-time. He knew he would feel the rotting anxiety if he stayed in the House and waited for the meeting to be over, so he decided to go on a short hunt north. Two of his dogs, Terho and Irina, trotted next to him. The sound of their paws pattering on the leaf-strewn ground were as quiet as raindrops. They lowered their heads occasionally to sniff at a stump or a log, and their long, floppy ears curiously twitching at any small noise—a twig cracking in the distance, a leaf dropping on the forest floor. Once in a while, they would stop and stare into the treeline, noticing something off in the distance. Something Eris’ Fae eyes couldn’t see through the fog.
Irina, the ever paranoid one, gave a sharp bark, shaking Eris from his thoughts. “Irina,” he warned.
The young female looked up at him, her sweet brown eyes filled with excitement. She barked again eagerly, as if trying to explain to him what she had smelled or spotted. But Eris shook his head. “We’re done for today. Me and Terho are tired.”
Terho, his eldest male and primary sire, trudged ahead of both of them still, his russet back arched with annoyance. Years of hunting and putting up with his brood made the old dog quick to anger and exhaustion. Eris supposed he related in a way; being the eldest of seven brought a similar toll on him.
They continued on, the fog obscuring their path. With each footfall, Eris felt his anxiety grow like a bonfire, kindled by the hundreds of thoughts that were swirling around his head.
He had no idea how Beron would be when he got back home. The uncertainty of it made his knees grow heavy with every step.
The sudden sound of wings flapped over his head, so close he could feel the breeze in his hair. He looked up, and through the mist and colorful foliage, he could just make out a pair of black wings perched directly above him.
A raven sat on an alder tree. Its two black, beaded eyes peered down at him. For a moment, the bird only seemed to leer, but it took off with a flap of its wings, rattling the branch it had perched on.
Irina spotted it too, but she did not bark after it this time. Instead she stood silently as a statue, watching the bird fly off with unblinking, fearful eyes.
Eris reached down and rubbed her head. “Come on, Irina,” he said quietly.
With the feeling of those black eyes still watching him, Eris followed his dogs through the mist to the Forest House.
⌘
After dropping off Terho and Irina at the kennels, he set off to the north wing, his heart pounding with each step he took into the damned House. But he eased his expression into slick, haughty carelessness. His usual mask. He could try to lie to himself and say that the faux confidence helped ease his anxiety…it made him unreadable, which of course had many benefits.
But there were a scarce amount of people in the House who could see behind that mask. And one of them seemed to have been waiting for his arrival.
The Lady of Autumn sat in the north wing’s parlor. An entourage of ladies in waiting accompanied her, the females tittering amongst themselves, their dresses glittered in an array of autumn colors: ruby, orange, and russet with gold detailing, jewelry that sparkled at their necks and fingers. And though his mother sat among them as the brightest gem, she looked as if she had no interest in whatever her company was chatting about. She stared into the fireplace, the light casting shadows on her gentle, unreadable face.
As he stepped into the room, the ladies fell silent. They rose from their seats and curtsied respectfully to him, their heads lowered. But his mother smiled. She stood, taking her time to brush down her skirts, and pushed through the group towards him. Her loose sleeves draped like willow branches as she held out her slender arms. She embraced him, and even though her eyes were bright, her shoulders were heavy with anxiety.
“Is the meeting over?” he murmured in her ear.
“Almost,” she whispered back. She pulled away and nodded to her ladies in waiting. “Me and my son are going to have some tea in private,” she said, her tone back to its normal volume. “You can go.”
The group of females bowed at the Lady of Autumn’s dismissal. Their dresses ruffled as they walked away as a group, a few of them whispering. His mother ignored them. She gave Eris a smile and cheerfully said, “Let’s go up to the balcony. I think Frieda has the tea and cookies already waiting.”
She slipped an arm through his and led him upstairs. They passed guards stationed in entrances and in the corners of passageways, the males bowing and murmuring greetings. The Lady of Autumn nodded and smiled to all of them, but her pace seemed to quicken with every step.
Suspense was consuming the entire House, and his mother was being suffocated in it.
The covered balcony was one of the only exposed parts of the House, since the majority weaved underground throughout the roots of the Forest. The Autumn Court was a foggy expanse beyond them, the mist creeping over the treeline like a blanket.
His mother sat in one of the armchairs. “The fog looks beautiful,” she said, looking into the distance.
Eris sat down next to her. “It is. Though not the best to hunt in.”
“I assume it was still peaceful.”
He shrugged. “As peaceful as it could be.” He leaned into the arm of his chair, his eyes narrowed on his mother. She seemed to be avoiding his gaze; that or she was too deep into her thoughts.
Silence fell over them. The tension in the air was as thick as the fog in the treeline. Frieda, his mother’s servant and the High Family’s private cook, stepped forward with the pause in their conversation and began to pour a cup of tea, but the Lady of Autumn stopped her. “It’s alright, Frieda,” she murmured. “We would like to talk privately.”
Frieda, a lesser fae with the semblance of a lemming, bowed. “Yes, Lady.” Her voice was high-pitched and filled with caution. She turned and scurried away, closing the door behind her.
Eris watched his mother carefully. She picked up her tea cup, the heat flickering up to her face. She took a sip, her eyes were glazed and staring into the forest that stretched beyond.
“The meeting will not end well,” she whispered.
Eris rubbed his hand on the arm of his chair absentmindedly, feigning boredom. But he could not disguise his distaste. “Many of the trading meetings do not end well, with Beron’s aggressive trading strategy. And for this meeting with Day he’ll simply lose out on his deal of exotic Day Court wine and fruits at an unfair price, so I don’t think it’s anything this court has to mourn over—”
“That is not what I am worried about,” his mother interrupted. Her eyes flashed with an anger Eris rarely saw, her usual cheery fire now consumed with white hot flames. “And it’s not why Beron made this meeting.”
Eris fell silent, his eyes narrowing at her. But she looked away and turned her gaze back into the fog. She clutched her chest, as if she could feel a foreboding pulling at her ribcage. The dark red stone of her wedding ring clashed with the light-colored yellow of her dress, and Eris couldn’t help but focus on it, as if it somehow contained the secret to her anxieties.
Which of course it fucking did. He was well aware of the bruises she hid. The secrets she contained behind her sweet, sad demeanor. But some were secrets he could only guess at.
Her teacup rattled as she set it down into the saucer, but there was no fear in her voice as she said, “I want you to take Lucien on a hunting trip.”
The tension in her voice was replaced by a sense of decidedness. But Eris swore he could see that tension in her eyes, like a ribbon of lace on the edge of fraying and snapping.
Lucien. Eris’ jaw tightened. Him having to hide Lucien or one of his other brothers from Beron’s rage was a practice he was well rehearsed in. But the specific phrasing of “a hunting trip” made him curious. It was always “a walk around the grounds” with his youngest brother, or “a ride to the river”. Their mother would make those suggestions with warning and fear riddled in her voice.
But Lucien had never been hunting. The nine year old seemed to have no interest, and Beron had no interest in bringing him along on court hunting trips, where the young male might embarrass him. So Lucien stayed behind while Eris, their other brothers, and Forest House courtiers tacked up their horses, sharpened their spears.
“Now?” he asked, trying not to voice his apprehension and disbelief.
“Yes. Now.” His mother shifted in her seat, her eyes fixed on him. Her trained elegance was taken over by something else: not fear, but determination. “It’s been on my mind for a while now but this meeting is what pushed me to request this of you.”
She wanted them to run. She wanted Lucien specifically to run from Beron’s wrath.
He leaned forward in his chair, hoping a hint of his worry showed through his mask. “And what happens when Beron discovers two of his sons have left the Forest House without his notice?” In a quiet tone, he added, “He has spies everywhere.” He was certain that the raven in the woods was one of them. Many of the Autumn Court birds spied for their High Lord, including many of the darker sprites. The raven he saw was no doubt a Liekkiö, or a dark magic sprite that had sided with the High Fae Lord a millennia ago. “He has all of the power to simply track us down and drag us back to court.”
“He won’t. I will make sure of that. And you can make your own excuses,” she added.
That was another thing he was well rehearsed in. Excuses. Lies.
But they would be leaving their mother in danger. But of course the Lady of Autumn was used to that. She had been dealing with Beron for centuries.
“Mum—” Eris began.
“A week,” she pleaded, shifting in her chair to face him more. “Let a week go by and Beron will cool off by then. Please, Eris. Lucien needs to see what proper hunting is anyways—”
“You want to use this time as a lesson opportunity?” He couldn’t help but voice his shock. His blood felt like it was freezing over and heating up at the same time.
“Is it not a decent excuse to leave?” she snapped, her frustration sparking in her eyes. “Besides, you’ve been on the trips Beron takes his court on, you know what they’re like. And soon, Beron will soon take Lucien on those trips too. And…”
Her voice trailed off, but Eris understood what she was going to say. What she was thinking.
She didn’t want his first hunt to change him. To taint him. To force him to lose hope.
“Lucien does not like shooting with a bow,” Eris said impatiently despite himself. “He plays with his fire like it’s a pet, and he thinks a dog is good for cuddling and playing fetch with. What happens when he sees a hound rip apart a rabbit for the first time? Or when I try to show him how to remove its pelt and roast its body over the fire?”
“He has seen a dead rabbit before. He’s seen how violent dogs can be. You should know: your brothers send their own after him all the time.” She leaned forward, her lips tight. “Please, Eris. You can teach him. You can speak to him kindly, as you always do. He loves when you teach him how to use his fire. Have this trip be like that.”
“Lucien uses his powers to make cute little animals out of flame and to sneak coals under Jora’s pillow.” And he was quite talented at both the pranks and the fire. At just nine years old, Lucien went from barely being able to light a candle to having the ability to form animals out of flame. Rabbits, foxes, bears, deer—he could make them dance and gallop and hop around his room or in the firepit. Eris recalled coming into the boy’s room one day and having to duck to avoid the hawk with flames for wings and coal for its beak and claws. It soared over his head, each flap of its fiery wings sending a rain of ash down onto the carpet. Ash littered the floor, and the boy had been laughing, his smile so wide it formed dimples on his golden brown cheeks.
It was still a game to him. Despite everything he had already witnessed. And his brothers envied him for it: envied his youth, his innocence. But the visible envy and dislike for Lucien’s powers and tricks only encouraged the boy to be louder, to play pranks on them with more enthusiasm. Until their brothers got too mad at him, that is.
His mother sighed. “Pranks and witnesses a younger brother’s growing powers is not something that is new in this family, Eris.”
“He has no interest in real fire or real hunting.” Eris snapped. “He has no interest in this court.”
The last words seemed to hang in between them, pulling the air taut. But his mother ignored it. “He might if you show him,” she said quietly. “But he will not if his first experience is Beron’s sort of hunt. And with Beron still furious over this trade meeting…it’s a good excuse to get him away from the House.” She leaned closer to him, her white fingers gripping the arm of her chair. “Please do this for me. And for him.”
Please. Please protect him.
Her eyes were brimmed with tears, but her determination shone like a spark. His heart gave a pang.
She sacrificed everything. She always had. And he found himself praying to the Cauldron that he could have an ounce of her bravery.
“I will take him tonight.” He said quietly.
His mother’s shoulders sagged. A small, relieved smile cracked on her lips. “Thank you.”
⌘
Eris went to his chambers and packed his supplies quickly. A collection of clothes; a bed roll; a tent magically enchanted to fit five men comfortably despite its compact appearance; a few hunting knives, one of which he found under his mattress; a map of the Autumn Court. He would retrieve his bow and quiver from the weapons room when they went to the kennels.
No one else was in the High family’s private wing besides a few guards. He ignored all of them as he passed, making sure his pace was leisurely. He knocked on Lucien’s chamber doors and waited, but no one answered.
Panic rose as hot steam in his chest, and Eris grit his teeth. He did not want to waste precious time wandering throughout the Forest House looking for Lucien. The boy had a habit of sneaking away and hiding in the most obscure places. Impatient, Eris pushed open the chamber doors.
Thankfully, Lucien still occupied his bedroom. The nine year old laid on his bed, his scarlet hair dangling over the book he was reading. He bit his fingers absentmindedly, his eyes roaming over the pages.
The floorboards creaked as Eris entered. Lucien looked up from his book, his shoulders instinctively tightening. The quiet ease he had while alone had vanished, replaced with an armor of hypervigilance.
But his face eased when he saw that it was Eris. “I’m reading that book mum gave me,” he said before Eris could speak. He shifted in his bed, enthusiasm melting his armor away. “The one about the prince who hunts for the magic swan.”
Eris stood at the entrance to his chambers and studied the book he was reading. “I thought you read that one already.”
“I have, but I wanted to reread it.” He flipped the page, the sound of creasing paper filling the quiet room. “I like it.”
“Are you almost finished with it?”
Lucien closed the book halfway to see his current spot amongst the edge of the pages. “Definitely not.”
“Then you can pack it with the rest of your things.”
A hint of alarm flashed across the boy’s features. “What?”
Maybe he thought Beron was kicking him out of the Forest House. “I’m taking you on a hunting trip.”
That answer seemed to ease Lucien a bit, but his wariness turned into mockery as he rolled his eyes and went back to his book. “Why? You hate hunting with other people.”
“And I will no doubt hate hunting with you, but we’re still going.”
He swore Lucien flashed him a look that resembled a glare and another eye roll, but he simply placed a bookmark to mark his place. With a swing of his little legs, he stood from his bed, book in hand, and went to the far wall where his backpack hung from the back of his desk chair. “Is Beron making you bring me along?” he asked as he shoved his book in his kitbag.
Technically it was because of Beron. But Eris instead answered, “No. But that doesn’t mean you have more of a choice in coming.”
“Then it was mum who ordered you.”
Eris crossed his arms. “It was more of a suggestion. And I, being the good brother I am, thought it was a good idea.” He paused, watching Lucien fiddle around with the straps of his pack. Purposely wasting time by being slow. “Your powers have been manifesting for a year,” he continued impatiently, “and you’ve been learning how to shoot for longer than that. It’s about time you applied them to real life, not just practice.”
“I help Frieda with the fire in the kitchens.”
He scoffed, “Yes, because helping the lesser fae head cook light the oven is an essential duty to a courtier and son of the High Lord.”
“It’s more useful than what you and our other stupid brothers do. What Father does.” Lucien continued to pack his bag, but the hate in his voice was unmistakable. A hint of shame welled up inside Eris’ chest. Pity. “Frieda says that in the kitchen, fire only burns the cook’s hands.”
That was unfortunately true. But Eris snapped, “You’re not a fucking cook. Or any sort of servant. You’re a future lord of this House. And as a future lord, you represent this court, whether you want to or not.”
“So you’re bringing me on this hunt to help me?”
“Yes. It’s for practice. And our mother and I would rather you start practicing in private.”
“So you’re afraid I’ll embarrass myself.”
“Our father doesn’t like incompetence. You should be well aware of that by now.”
Lucien paused his packing, his eyes staring unfocused at the floor. The bedroom rippled with silence, and even the light that strewn in from the window could not brighten his brother’s russet eyes. “When are we leaving?” he finally asked, his voice quiet.
Eris shrugged, feigning nonchalance. His heart was pounding with too many thoughts and feelings he usually tried to shove away. Lucien had the unfortunate talent of bringing those emotions to the surface. “We’ll leave today. Pack enough clothes for a week at least.” He didn’t want to tell the boy that the end of their trip was undetermined.
Lucien didn’t answer, going back to packing. “We’re taking my dog Tanya with,” Eris added. “So you won’t be stuck with just me.”
That seemed to ease his brother a bit. “Thank the Mother I’ll have some civilized company,” Lucien muttered.
⌘
When both of them were packed and set up with a bow and a quiver full of arrows, they went to the kennels. Silence hung between them. Lucien’s face wore his usual armor, and his pack, quiver, and unstrung bow sat on his rigid back. But his armor melted away as a chorus of eager barks and howls greeted them. Almost all of his dogs scratched at the doors of their kennels and passed around excitedly, besides his pregnant female Marjatta, who wagged her tail joyfully against the wall she was laying up against, too tired from her swollen belly.
Eris unlatched the lock of Tanya’s stall. Besides the grumpy Terho, Tanya was Eris’ eldest smokehound. Her grey coat had flecks of white, but she was still as lively as ever. She stood up on her hindlegs and greeted Lucien with a slippery kiss, her tongue enveloping the majority of the boy’s face. Lucien laughed, his careless joy bringing out the dimples in his cheeks.
Eris went to get a collar and leash from the tack hooks that hung from her stall. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his brother and Tanya: the silver hound was almost as tall as the nine year old, her skinny legs scratching eagerly at his chest. “Be careful,” Eris said, wrapping the leash around his hand. “She can drown someone in all that drool.”
Lucien managed to push Tanya off of him, wiping the slobber off his chin and cheeks. “I think she’s my favorite,” he laughed. He cocked his head curiously at Eris, his red eyebrows cinched together. “Do…do you have a favorite dog you like to hunt with?”
It sounded like he hesitated to ask the question. Eris swore he saw a flicker of something in his brother’s eyes…Uncertainty? Maybe even dislike or fear?
Lucien had always clung to him in his younger years: when he was ages four through six, Lucien wanted to be at his side day and night, to the point where Eris would find Lucien crawling into his bed with a children’s book in his chubby little hands. Eris was the one Lucien went to when his fire powers developed. Eris was the one who taught him how to light a candle, and form little animals and leaves with his flames.
But their relationship had changed so much in such a short amount of time. Lucien probably recognized that fact. That sweet, desperate naivety and brotherly love seemed to have been taken over by something hard and sad. No longer did Lucien sneak into his room, or hold onto his hand during a meeting.
It was a loss of innocence. A male taking over a little boy’s body. It was finally realizing how their court operated. Their father’s words echoed in Eris’ head, words he had lectured to him so many times before.
Emotionless. Cold. Unfeeling. That’s how my sons should always be. You’re smart, Eris. You should know that compassion is weakness. It will not get you ahead in this court.
Maybe Lucien saw that coldness and incompassion.
Eris pushed those thoughts away as he knelt down next to Tanya and rubbed her side. “It depends on what I’m hunting. Havu is best with deer, but he’s impatient. Irina and Paju are good with smaller game, like birds or squirrels but they’re a bit too competitive. We’re taking Tanya because she’s easier to work with.” Tanya sat still as he slipped the leather collar over her narrow head. “She’s the type of lady who likes leisurely walks through the forest.” He tightened the strap to make sure it was snug and added, “And she’s a cuddler too.”
“I thought dogs weren’t allowed to sleep in beds.” Lucien’s voice was tight as he stated Beron’s rule about dogs in the house. The only bitches allowed in a lord’s bedroom are his wife and courtesans.
Eris ruffled Tanya’s ears. “I let them sleep with me when I go camping. Except when it rains. I don’t want my tent smelling like wet dog.” He smirked at Lucien, who gave a cautious smile back.
⌘
That caution was what followed them out of the House when they left the kennels, along with Tanya, who trotted next to them with an upbeat step that did not fit the mood. The mist still hung in the air, but even denser than before, obscuring everything. It was still beautiful, despite its ghostly appearance. The mossy scent was a tang in Eris’ nose, and he breathed it in, hoping it would cool a bit of his anxiety and frustration that was roiling in his chest like burning coals.
He couldn’t help but wonder about their mother. Why she was so anxious to send Lucien away after the meeting with Day…It was as if Day had something to do with Lucien, even though that didn’t have a lick of logic.
And now he was going on a camping trip for an undetermined amount of time to teach his stubborn little brother how to hunt. His stubborn brother who might even hold resentment towards him and refuse to cooperate because the petty Vanserra blood ran through his veins. Just as it did with him.
Eris put his fists in his pockets and watched Lucien and Tanya trot ahead of him, their forms barely decipherable through the fog. Tanya stopped and sniffed curiously at a rotted log, shoving her long nose into a crack in the mossy, crumbling wood. Lucien wedged his boot underneath to lift up the log, and several worms, beetles, what looked like a slug with wings crawled out in a panic at the exposed light. Tanya rummaged around in the wet dirt, and her accomplice stood above her with his eyes glowing with amusement.
“If you two are done looking for grubs, then come over here,” Eris called. He removed his map from the side slot of his backpack and unfurled it onto a stump.
Lucien dropped the log and went over to him. Eris couldn’t help but notice how he stood a few steps away, his jaw tight.
Cautious, afraid, reluctant to go on a several day hiking trip…Eris could only guess why his brother was so hesitant around him, so uneasy…
It’s because he hates you, a voice murmured in his head. Don’t all of your brothers hate you? So cold you are…
He grit his teeth and shoved the thoughts aside. “I believe your tutor already taught you how to read a map.” He gestured to the parchment he laid out. “Point to where we are.”
Lucien studied the map, his eyes roaming over the sketches of roads, forests, rivers, and mountains. After a few seconds' decision, he placed a finger a few inches south of the center of the map, where THE FOREST HOUSE was labeled in large, bold letters.
Eris nodded. “At least you’re competent in some things.”
Lucien didn’t answer that remark, though Eris could see it simpering underneath the boy’s face. He felt a lick of shame creep up inside. But he turned away and examined the map himself, his jaw set. A trip far away from the Forest House might be too suspicious: Eris didn’t want it to appear as if they were on the run. They technically weren’t after all—this was just a lesson opportunity. Brother bonding time.
Eris suddenly wished he brought some liquor with. This was going to be a long trip.
“We’re going to head west,” he decided, tracing his finger along the map. He tapped a small, unlabelled section of forests that sat several miles away from the center of Autumn. “If we follow the Yenisei river, we’ll have plenty of opportunities for game, and I know a good hunting spot that’s near Bakhta. The rabbits down there are so common they’re basically pests.”
Lucien toed the stump, knocking off a row of mushrooms that grew from the mossy roots. “Okay,” he said simply. He adjusted his pack. “Are we carrying our bags the entire way?”
“Did you think we brought Tanya along so she’ll carry them?”
Eris saw a muscle in his brother’s jaw twitch. “No.”
“Good. You should learn how to carry your own weight, Lucien. This trip is a good way to learn how.”
Silence followed them into the woods, like a stranger stalking them through the fog. They rarely talked to each other, or even looked at each other.
After what felt like an hour, Lucien finally spoke. “Why did mum want us to go hunting now ?” he asked. “Does it have to do with the meeting?”
It felt like the boy had been pondering that since Eris came to his room. And the frustration got hot enough to finally ask. “She told me she had been thinking about sending you on a hunting lesson for a while now,” Eris answered. It was the truth, after all. Not the full one, but Lucien didn’t know that.
“Why?”
Eris turned to walk backwards, his hands clutched the straps of his pack casually. “Maybe we will find out when we get back.” He turned forward again, putting his back to Lucien before he could see the snappy reply written on the boy’s face. “But there’s no use spending the entire trip worrying about it.”
“You said that you’re taking me along to help me.”
“I did.” In more ways than one, he thought. If only he could figure out how to get the boy to stop asking so many questions—
“Well, you’re not being very helpful.”
Cauldron boil and fry him. He definitely should have brought some alcohol. “By the fucking Mother, Lu, we just started the trip less than an hour ago.”
“Well, if I have questions, are you going to answer them?”
“Of course. As I always have.”
“You’ll answer all of them? Honestly?”
“As honestly as necessary.”
Eris waited, expecting the big, deep questions to come pouring out in the most terrifying wave of desperation and secrets. But Lucien picked up a leaf that had fallen on the ground, its appearance flawless in shape, color, and wear. “Then what tree did this come from?”
Eris couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Lucien, I thought you would be asking difficult questions.”
“I will. I’m working towards it.” He waved the leaf derisively.
Eris barely had to glance at it. “An oak.”
He pointed to a nearby oak that towered over them. “Did it come from that one?”
“I assume so. But you never know with the wind. Do you have any more interesting questions, or are you just trying to quiz me on my foraging knowledge?”
Lucien tucked his hands in his pockets and quirked his mouth to the side. “I’m getting there.”
They continued on, and Eris knew Lucien was just trying to get a rise out of him. The questions got more and more ridiculous the longer they walked. “It’s sycamore bark. That tree sort of shed like a snake.” “I don’t know if that mushroom is edible, but I know a way you can find out.”
Eventually, his brother’s mockery began to wear out Eris’ patience. “It’s an acorn you fucking idiot, now shut up and keep walking.” That outburst got Lucien to laugh, and it only spurred on more risible questions. And as they continued their hike, the tension between them seemed to loosen. The sun was past its highest point in the sky, and Eris suddenly realized that Lucien was walking next to him, instead of behind.
Eventually, Lucien got tired of the questions, and they returned to the silence that often sat in between them. But it felt a bit lighter.
Maybe this trip was a good thing, Eris thought. Not just to keep Lucien safe from Beron, and to bring peace to their mother, but to also bring back that little boy who enjoyed trotting next to him—
Lucien interrupted his thoughts. “Why do those trees have eyes?” He pointed to the treeline with a frown.
Eris followed his finger to a group of aspen trees. The tall, pale giants stood out next to the usual russet coloring of their neighboring trees. Their greyish white skin resembled bones, and patterned up the trunk were several black markings.
From the curiosity in the boy’s voice, Eris knew it was meant to be a genuine question, even if it did sound ridiculous. Because he could see what Lucien meant: they did look like eyes. Black, unblinking eyes following their every move.
The lighthearted atmosphere immediately shifted to that familiar tension. Looking ahead, Eris answered, “They’re spies. They report any bad or suspicious behavior to the High Lord.”
Lucien was quiet for a moment, his eyebrows scrunched together and still fixed on the aspens as he trudged his way through the thicket. Eris was sure his brother was going to call him out for lying: they weren’t actually eyes: their black knots were scarring from previous branches. But even if the trees didn’t have eyes for spying, the forest was still watching in other ways. Some of the trees were on Beron’s side, but even the High Lord couldn’t dictate the nature of the Autumn Court’s forests.
Lucien carefully brushed aside a tree branch that had clung to his jacket. “I thought only the birds reported to father,” he finally said, his voice quiet.
Well, Beron couldn’t dictate most things about Autumn’s nature. But many of the birds, especially the magic species, did report to Beron. Eris couldn’t count how many times he’d seen a raven or blackbird land on his father’s chair during a meeting and murmur something in his ear. The Liekkiö birds, the Alkonost…many of the magical birds spied for Beron and reported to him almost daily. “It’s a team effort,” Eris decided to say, keeping his eyes ahead. “The trees write the songs and the birds sing them.”
“Do the trees have feet too?” Lucien squinted at the ground as if expecting toes to wiggle up from the dirt.
“They do. Be careful or they’ll try to trip you.”
Barely a second later, Lucien stumbled, his boots snagging on an exposed root. Eris went to catch him, a laugh rising up in his throat. But Lucien brushed him aside with a tenseness in his shoulders. “I thought you said you would answer my questions honestly,” he snarled.
“I did.”
“No you didn’t. You’re making fun of me.”
Eris scoffed, but something stirred inside him as Lucien looked up at him. Anger simmered on his golden-brown skin, as well as something else. Fear.
Before Eris could speak, Lucien snapped, “I always feel like I’m being watched. In the Forest House.”
He continued to stare up at him. Eris didn’t answer, so the boy continued, “And it’s not just the servants and the stupid courtiers, it’s like…” The boy looked up to the sky, the light of the afternoon sun flickering on his features. “...it’s like even the trees watch me.” He kicked the dirt and stomped ahead. “But if you act as if it’s a joke , I guess I can assume I’m just being paranoid.”
Eris was silent for a moment. A wind whistled through the canopy, stirring the tree branches. The rustling leaves sounded like whispers.
“Would it be any comfort if I tell you that you’re right? Or should I go against your wishes and lie to you?”
Lucien’s lips tightened. Eris turned away from him and continued down the trail. “If there is one thing you need to know about the Autumn Court, Lucien,” he said quietly, “is that the forest is always watching. Not all of the trees are on Beron’s side, but most birds report to him. And a lot of the lesser sprites will report to him as well, to protect their homes from any burning. Some of the darker species do it because they agree with the High Fae’s politics.” He glanced at Lucien. “You’ve seen the Liekkiö. They are more common than you think.”
His brother didn’t respond. But from the look in his eyes, the answer seemed to leave room for more questions. But Lucien simply clutched his fists at his sides and began walking again.
They continued along the trail west with that tension sitting in between them again. Lucien was quiet, his eyes constantly flickering back and forth at their surroundings. No more questions spewed out of the boy’s mouth, but Eris could easily guess he still had a hundred more. Lucien’s frustration was a tangible thing, like smoke from a bonfire.
The silence that hung in between them was only broken by the usual sounds of the forest: cracking branches under their feet, the occasional sound of a bird tweeting. Eris continued forward, his eyes staring unfocused and blurring the trees and autumn foliage into a blurry kaleidoscope of brown, scarlet, and gold.
If the trees had eyes, and the roots were their feet, and branches their arms and hands, then the red leaves were blood. The elms and birch and oaks…all of Autumn’s trees had blood-stained hands. They stretched them up to the gloomy sky and pleaded to the Mother for forgiveness. And the blood fell as dried, crumbled leaves, dripping onto the forest floor and staining the ground scarlet.
The perfect home for the High Fae of the Forest House. The perfect home for the Vanserras. But the Vanserras had more blood stained on their hands than all of the Autumn trees combined.