Chapter Text
C’mon.
Feyre stared at the clock, waiting for the hand to strike midnight. The thin bronze hand marking the seconds of the clock had begun its last turn around the dial, marking the final hour and final minutes of the day. In less than sixty seconds, it would herald the beginning of the Spring equinox, which coincidentally was the same day that folks who’d turned the age of twenty-one within the past year would be able to “seek their truth.” The phrase was meant to evoke the idea that young adults would finally have the ability to find their soulmate. Such a soul tie could only be discovered using one simple trick: speaking the truth. It would be impossible to lie to a soulmate— the one person who would know you as well as yourself.
Once a person reached the age of twenty-one and the equinox began, it would become physically impossible to lie to one’s soulmate. The Spring equinox marked many things: the end of winter, rebirth, but above all, new beginnings. A new beginning for those who were set to “seek their truth,” to seek the one person they would be unable to tell a single lie to—their soulmate. It was said that once a person found their soulmate, golden flecks would adorn their hands like a star-painted tattoo. These flecks would wrap around their fingers, extending all the way to their forearms, resembling the constellations in the sky. However, both parties would need to accept their soul connection for it to take effect.
Silk sapphire blankets pooled in Feyre’s lap as she leaned against the headboard. Across the room, a clock hung just above her desk, ticking ever so quietly as the smallest hand moved slowly around the dial.
11:59 pm
In less than a minute, Feyre would be bound to seek her truth—her soulmate—or lose them forever without ever knowing who they are. That was the price. It was a simple but heavy cost to pay for a soulmate; she’d only have a year. This was how things were in her world, and how they had always been since the beginning of time. She wished things were different, that there was a broader timeframe for her to find the love of her life. How could anyone find the person they were meant to spend their whole life with in a single year? It sounded impossible. She would have exactly three hundred and sixty-five days—not a second sooner and not a second later. Once the year was over, and the Spring equinox came again, her time would be up. She would lose them forever, just as her soulmate would lose her if the pair did not find each other in time. And they wouldn’t be the only ones to lose each other; every other couple that failed to find a soulmate would suffer the same fate.
What a cosmic joke, Feyre groaned.
Shaking her leg nervously, Feyre willed time to go by faster. In less than thirty seconds, her life would change, and destiny would lie in her hands. Will I be able to find my soulmate in a year? Would it be enough? Or will I be destined to lose my soulmate without ever knowing them? Is that my fate?
Feyre had not only heard of such things happening but had witnessed it with her own eyes. Just two years ago, her friend Mor had set out to “seek her truth,” and all Mor had found were people she could deceive in a heartbeat. Lying came easily to Mor, and it had become second nature to her as the year had drawn on. Mor had found many things in those three hundred and sixty-five days, except the one thing she craved the most, her soulmate. By the time the Spring equinox rolled around once more, Mor had found that not a single person was worthy of listening to her speak truths. As the final hands of the clock marked the end of Mor’s search, she’d grown distant. Quiet. Barely speaking to anyone outside her immediate inner circle. Feyre feared that she might share the same fate as her dear friend. Was she destined to meet the same unfortunate end?
No, Feyre decided. She wouldn’t let that happen.
C’mon. Can’t you go any fast—
12:00 am
Feyre watched as the bronze hand on the clock turned a light golden hue. The time to seek had begun. She blinked once, twice, but found herself frozen in place. It wasn’t long before the sound of a phone ringing beneath the covers jolted her out of her paralysis.
Sliding her hands beneath the pool of ocean-painted silk, Feyre desperately searched for her phone. Inside her chest, she could feel her heart beating harder and faster with each passing second, as if it meant to burst free. Whether it was anxiety, excitement, or adrenaline, her mind was too flustered to focus. Where is it—where’s the freaking phone? Frantic hands patted around the bed furiously.
Without glancing at the caller ID, Feyre picked up the call. No words came out; only heavy breathing filled the silence as she held the phone against her ear, clutching her sheets tighter to her chest. The only sounds were those of the city streets below her apartment, with cars driving past and couples chatting as they walked by, their laughter echoing through her open window. As she inhaled, she could almost taste the electric buzz of the evening on her tongue. Excitement and nervousness coursed through her body, leaving her feeling both alert and slightly tipsy by the sensation, as if she had just downed an espresso martini. Feyre could almost feel the burn of the coffee liqueur in her throat as she searched for words to speak, but none came.
A moment passed before the voice on the end of the line spoke first.
“In the second grade, you stole something from my desk. What was it?”
The voice was deep, comforting, and familiar. Feyre knew exactly who it was without needing to glance at the caller ID. The bizarre question, however, made her reconsider whether this was a prank call. Given the circumstances, she understood why the male voice had asked her such a strange and specific question. They wanted to know the very same thing Feyre was wondering. They wanted to know the truth. Or rather, if she could lie.
Even so, confusion colored her voice. In about a month, this would likely become her new normal—odd questions in unexpected places, all in pursuit of the same answer. But for now, Feyre could only focus on taking one breath in and one breath out as her hands trembled.
“What?” she asked.
“You heard me,” Cassian replied.
“Cas—”
“Feyre,” he pleaded.
If her heart had been ready to beat out of her chest a second ago, now Feyre felt like she was going to be sick all over her bed. It felt like a combination of heartburn and nausea rumbling from her stomach all the way up to her throat. It was too much. Too much. One word would determine her fate. Either she’d find it easy to lie and know that she and Cassian were not meant to be soulmates, or she’d tell the truth and know that the love of her life was on the other end of the phone call. And both possibilities sounded equally as terrifying.
Feyre had waited her whole life to turn twenty-one and find herself in this position—seconds away from discovering her soulmate. She had always pictured it would be someone in her inner circle of friends. After all, she and Cassian had known each other practically their whole lives. Being soulmates with Cassian would feel comfortable. Safe. But even so…
Closing her eyes, Feyre recalled her time with Cassian in the second grade. That had been the year she’d accidentally outed Cassian’s passion for comic books. Not just any comic books, of course. Feyre accidentally revealed to some of the older boys that the collection of Miss Marvel comics she had been stuffing into her backpack actually belonged to Cassian. The comment made Cassian the target of ridicule, with pointed fingers and laughter directed at him for reading "girl" comics.
The answer was simple then: comics. She had stolen his comics. If Cassian were her soulmate, she’d be unable to lie. So Feyre did just that.
“Lip gloss. I stole your lip gloss,” Feyre joked.
Cassian let out a breath.
“Don’t we wish,” he chuckled.
“Not sure if that would have been better or worse for you if I had stolen lip gloss off your desk and been caught with it,” Feyre said, tucking her hair behind her ear. The glow of the moon peeked through the curtains, illuminating the room with its iridescence—a promise that the stars had more in store for her.
“Better. Definitely better. It would have meant I had a girlfriend to show those idiot boys,” Cassian replied.
“Maybe. Am I the first call you make tonight?” Feyre asked.
“I was gonna call Rhys, but I figured I’d start with you. I don’t really think Rhys is my type,” Cassian joked.
“Well, I’m flattered,” said Feyre. “A shame it wasn’t us.”
“The world couldn’t handle us together, Feyre.”
That made her chuckle. It truly was a shame that one of her closest friends had turned out not to be the love of her life, but even so, Feyre felt it in her chest that this starcrossing felt right. This pairing simply wouldn't have made sense. He cared for her just as she did for him, but their love was undeniably platonic, and it always had been. There was certainly someone out there for both of them, just not each other. That brought a thought to Feyre’s mind. Something she’d never spoken out loud before. And what better time to speak a different kind of truth than now?
“Cas,” said Feyre.
“Hmm?”
“After you call Rhys, you know, and make sure he’s not the one for you,” said Feyre. “You should call her.”
Cassian knew exactly which she Feyre meant. He might not have been top of the class when it came to academics, but he was bright enough to read between the lines.
“Just to be sure,” Feyre added.
Silence.
“I’m scared,” whispered Cassian.
Glancing at the glowing full moon just outside her window, Feyre smiled to herself. She felt scared too. But something about knowing that another person shared the same feeling as her brought her comfort. It made her feel less alone. If she were being honest with herself, there was someone she hoped would appear by her fire escape, just like in the movies, so she could confess her thoughts or even gain some clarity. “I think we’re supposed to be. Scared of love, I mean. It means we care deeply enough.”
An electric hum filled the air.
“What if it’s Nesta?”
“Then at least you’ll know. And you’ll have the rest of your life to figure out what that means for both of you.”
She heard Cassian take a deep breath.
“Well, if I’m calling her, you should call him.”
It was her turn to breathe deeply.
“Goodnight, Cas.”
“Goodnight, Feyre.”