Chapter 6
Chapter six
The dining hall glowed with soft twilight colors, the Star Court's magic ensuring the light shifted gradually from gold to violet as evening deepened.
The table was set for five, though the spacing felt deliberate—Thaine at one end like an afterthought, the others arranged to keep maximum distance from him while maintaining the pretense of civility.
Briar entered to find them already assembled. Arion rose immediately, pulling out the chair beside him. The gesture was smooth, practiced, but something in the way his hand lingered on the back of her chair felt proprietary.
"You look lovely," he said, his eyes taking in the gray gown with apparent approval.
She sat, aware of Frederick's cool presence against her neck, hidden beneath her hair. Across the table, Thaine lounged in his chair with the kind of casual sprawl that suggested he knew exactly how much his presence bothered everyone.
"The Star Court's colors suit you," Thaine observed, his tone neutral enough that the insult underneath—the implication of her changeability—was barely detectable. "Though I recall you looked equally at home in Forest Court green."
Arion's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Briar looks well in any court's colors. Or none at all."
The last part hung in the air, carrying more weight than perhaps intended. Sian smoothly redirected, lifting her water goblet.
"The sprite migration went well today, thanks to Briar's help. We managed to relocate them all before the temperature drops tonight."
"All of them?" Halian asked, serving himself from a platter of roasted vegetables that smelled of rosemary and something distinctly fae.
"Every last one," Sian confirmed. "Briar has a natural touch with them."
"She has a natural touch with many things," Thaine said mildly, cutting into his meat with precise movements. "It's what makes her so... valuable."
The word choice wasn't lost on anyone. Arion's light flickered faintly around his fingers before he controlled it.
"Speaking of value," Halian interjected, clearly trying to manage the tension, "we should discuss the ward modifications. With the hunt ending at dawn—"
"The hunt," Thaine interrupted, looking directly at Briar for the first time. "How are you finding your last night of freedom? Assuming you're planning to embrace it."
"That's her choice to make," Arion said, his voice carrying an edge of warning.
"Of course it is." Thaine took a sip of wine. "Though choices are interesting things. Sometimes what we think is a choice is really just selecting between cages."
"Not everyone offers cages," Sian said quietly. "Some offer genuine sanctuary."
Thaine's smile was sharp. "Sanctuary. Such a pretty word for 'staying where you're put.'"
"Better than being hunted," Halian said.
"Is it?" Thaine tilted his head. "At least prey gets to run."
Briar set down her fork, the soft clink loud in the sudden silence. They all looked at her—waiting for her to speak, to choose a side in their verbal chess match. Instead, she reached for her water, taking a slow sip while they watched.
"The wards," she said finally, looking at Halian. "What modifications?"
He blinked at the redirect but adapted. "Strengthening the eastern boundaries. There have been... disturbances. Energy signatures we don't recognize."
"Someone's been testing them," Sian added. "Carefully. Professionally."
"Not my lord," Thaine said before anyone could voice the suspicion. "He has no interest in the Star Court. His focus is entirely on what was taken from him."
The weight of his gaze on Briar made his meaning clear.
"No one took me," Briar said evenly. "I was cast out."
"Temporarily." Thaine's certainty was absolute. "My lord's tempers burn hot but brief. By dawn, this will all be a memory."
"Your lord," Arion said, his hand finding Briar's on the table, covering it with his own, "has no claim here."
The possessive gesture, meant to be protective, made something in Briar's chest tighten with frustration. Everyone kept touching her, claiming her, speaking about her future as if she were a book to be placed on whatever shelf they deemed appropriate.
"The Star Court," Sian was saying, "has ancient laws of sanctuary. Once given, it cannot be revoked."
"Unless the person chooses to leave," Halian added, looking at Briar with what he probably thought was reassurance.
"Or is taken," Thaine countered. "The Forest Court has ancient laws too."
They continued debating, their voices weaving around her—laws and traditions and possibilities and threats. Arion's thumb stroked across her knuckles, a gesture meant to comfort that instead made her want to pull away. Frederick shifted against her neck, responding to her tension.
"What do you think, Briar?" Sian asked suddenly, and they all turned to her again.
What did she think? That they were discussing her like a treaty to be negotiated? That each of them had already decided what would be best for her?
Before she could formulate a response that wouldn't simply be screaming at all of them, the dining hall doors burst open.
A guard stumbled in, his face pale with something beyond fear.
"My lords," he gasped. "Someone approaches under a banner of truce. Someone who shouldn't—who can't—"
"Who?" Arion demanded, already rising, his hand still possessively on Briar's.
"We don't know. But they're using old magic. Magic that predates the courts themselves."
"The Drak," Arion said immediately, his jaw tightening. "He's come for her."
Thaine looked between them, frowning. "What Drak?"
"Karse," Sian supplied quickly. "A Drak that Briar freed during the hunt. He claims she belongs to him."
Thaine's eyebrows rose, and he looked at Briar with something between amusement and disbelief. "Of course. Because freeing one monster wasn't enough excitement for one week. Did the first one not teach you anything about the perils of misplaced compassion?”
Briar didn’t respond, her chest tightening with an emotion she couldn't name.
Karse had found her? Part of her felt oddly.
.. disappointed wasn't the right word. Conflicted.
He was dangerous, but he had also protected her, had carried her for hours through the forest. The thought of him fighting his way into the Star Court for her stirred something uncomfortable in her chest.
"How long?" Halian asked the guard.
"They're at the gates now."
Arion rose, moving toward the door, Briar stumbling as he pulled her with him. "We need to get you somewhere safe before—"
"My lord," the guard interrupted, his face growing paler. "They're... they're already inside. The courtyard."
"What?" Arion asked, stopping midstride. "How did they get past the wards?"
Thaine cursed under his breath. "What kind of sanctuary is this if you can't keep a single Drak out?"
"Our wards are perfectly adequate against normal threats," Arion shot back, his light flickering with irritation.
"Clearly." Thaine's tone dripped sarcasm. "Though I suppose 'adequate' is the Star Court way. My lord would have already had the intruder's head on a spike."
"Your lord," Arion said coldly, "is the reason she needs sanctuary in the first place."
"At least the Forest Court doesn't let its enemies stroll through the front door."
"Enough," Halian interrupted, already moving. "Argue after we deal with the threat."
They rushed through the corridors, Arion's light casting wild shadows as they moved. If it was Karse, would he really attack the Star Court for her? The thought should have terrified her. Instead, she found herself almost hoping—
But as they burst into the courtyard, her stomach dropped.
The copper hair hit her first—that autumn flame she'd last seen in the dungeons when he'd transformed from pitiful Thomas into something far worse. Not Karse. Malus.
He stood in the center of the courtyard as if he belonged there, examining the silver fountain with casual interest. He wore deep green trimmed with gold, and every line of him radiated power he no longer had to hide.
Her throat constricted. The compulsion he'd placed might be gone, but the memory of it lingered—that sensation of words dissolving on her tongue, the metallic taste of his magic forcing itself down her throat.
Behind him, five figures stood motionless.
The sight of them made her skin crawl in ways she couldn't articulate.
Antlered masks that were made up of bone or bark, tattered robes that didn't move despite the evening breeze.
And beneath those masks—nothing. Just shadow where faces should be.
The smell hit her then, subtle but unmistakable.
Rot. Decay. The sweet-sick scent of things returning to earth.
Star Court guards lay groaning near the entrance. One clutched a shoulder bent at an impossible angle. Another's leg was wrapped in vines that seemed to be growing into his flesh. Briar's stomach turned. He'd hurt them casually, just to make his entrance.
"Ah," Malus said without turning. "There you are. I was beginning to think the Star Court's hospitality had declined." He faced them then, and his smile was exactly as she remembered—sharp, amused, dangerous. "Though I suppose letting myself in was rather rude."
Arion stepped forward, light gathering in his palms. "You're not welcome here."
"No?" Malus's eyebrows rose in mock surprise.
"And here I've come all this way on legitimate business.
" His gaze moved over them slowly, taking inventory.
It paused on Thaine, and something cold flickered in his expression.
"Still breathing, huntsman? My brother always was too sentimental about his tools. "
The casual dismissal of Thaine as a tool made Briar's chest tighten. Is that all any of them were to the fae lords? Implements to be used and discarded?