Chapter Text
The key to deceiving people is believing your own lie. And Adara had spent years – centuries – perfecting this ability. She had taught herself how to fully embody whatever character would give her the advantage in a given situation. She knew how to make anyone see what she wanted them to see.
So, when a gloved hand materialised from the shadows and clamped onto her bicep with a grip like iron, she didn’t panic. But she did let out a calculated scream.
The male holding her did not react beyond a slight tightening of his grip, before the shadows that were concealing him seemed to move , twirling around her and obscuring her vision completely. She couldn’t even see the end of her own nose; it was like the whole world had gone dark. And then suddenly, the suffocating darkness lifted, and with a jolt, she realised she had been transported. She was no longer standing in the glittering onyx hallway beyond the ballroom, where she had been a moment ago. The walls and floor here were roughly hewn from dull, grey stone, and directly in front of her was a metal door. It stood open, revealing a small, dark cell.
Still, Adara did not panic. It was what she had expected if she were caught, after all. The Night Court was not known for its kindness.
Instead, she focused on becoming the terrified little girl that would soften any captor’s foolish heart. She made her eyes wide and round, her posture small and curved inward. As the male threw her into the cell, she concentrated on the bruise that he had surely left on her arm and the sharp sting of her palms where they connected with the cold stone floor.
With fae senses, illusions were incredibly difficult. To manipulate her captor into truly underestimating her, she couldn’t just pretend to be scared, she needed to become scared. So she thought of the male she feared above all others, letting terror coat her scent and all the physical symptoms of it show – her body shaking, breathing uneven, anxious eyes darting around the room. She kept the small part of her that remained calm and collected locked at the back of her mind, cataloguing everything she could.
There were chains in the far corner, secured to the wall with nails as thick as her wrist, and she could smell the iron from where she trembled against the opposite wall. She looked to the male who now stood blocking the doorway, glowering down at her. He was huge, even more so with the great leathery wings that extended from his back and nearly scraped the low ceiling with their wickedly sharp talons. Despite his intimidating stature and head-to-toe armour, she couldn’t help thinking that he was breathtakingly beautiful, his dark hair curling slightly over thick, downturned brows, his hazel eyes near glowing in the darkness. But it was the promise of deadly skill, etched into the sharp lines of his muscular body, that had the hairs standing up on the back of her neck.
Still, she counted every weapon on him, both visible and concealed, and calculated every inch between her and the exit.
“Who are you?” he asked, and she didn’t need to fabricate the shiver that went down her spine at the low rumble of his voice. “What are you doing here?”
She knew he had already noted her auburn hair and golden-brown eyes, suggesting her Autumn heritage, so in a small, quivering voice, she started to spin the story that she had begun concocting the moment he grabbed her.
“I– I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I know I shouldn’t be here! I’m sorry– I’m not– I didn’t mean to– I’m sorry!” she finished dramatically, her voice rising. She pressed her grazed palm harder into the stone floor beneath her and fastened her breathing further, forcing the tears in her eyes to spill over.
If she were guilty or well-trained she would stay quiet, but someone innocent and desperate to prove it would scramble to explain, so she did just that. “I just wanted to see– my mother has always said curiosity would get me into trouble!” she blubbered. “I followed the High Lord’s son from Autumn here– I didn’t mean anything by it, I just wanted to see if the rumours were true! I promise!”
The male strode towards her, and though she had anticipated it from the shift in his muscles before he even took his first step, she painted her features with surprise and shrank back against the wall when he reached her.
She must give him credit, she supposed, as most people in his position would already have relaxed at her hysterics, dismissing her as unthreatening. But the winged male was still regarding her with suspicion, his hand within casual reach of the dagger strapped to his belt. The cobalt-blue jewels that decorated his gloved hands, knees, shoulders and the centre of his chest glowed, as though they were alive.
She cast her gaze down to her own simple, weapon-less, attire – a carefully chosen tunic and pants, common for an Autumn Court peasant – but kept careful watch on the male from her peripherals. She barely breathed as a thin shadow wound itself up his leather-clad arm, reaching around the back of his neck to his ear, as if to whisper into it.
She fought the urge to curse. This may not be so easy then, for this had to be Azriel, the Night Courts’ Spymaster and Shadowsinger. Eris had told her a lot about him, and though she had never seen him herself, he had become something of a personal competition – a standard against which to test herself. It had recently brought her immense satisfaction anytime Eris passed along information to the Night Court that they did not yet possess.
“How did you get into the Court of Nightmares?” the Spymaster demanded with lethal quiet, squatting down to meet her eyes.
“Through the tunnel,” she answered breathlessly, “I followed Lord Eris, though he did not know I was there. The guards were distracted by him enough that I snuck in.”
True. All true. Although she didn’t include how she had used her own power to glamor herself so powerfully that even if the guards hadn’t been distracted, they wouldn’t have detected her. The best lies were those mixed with truth.
The males’ brow furrowed slightly, although less with disbelief, she thought, more displeasure at his own guards' incompetence. As he should, really, the guards were as thick as bricks.
“Eris does not know you followed him?” he pressed, and she fought the secret smile that threatened to rise as he revealed that he was falling for her story.
“N–no,” she spluttered, “He does not even know who I am. I am just a commoner in his court.”
The Spymaster seemed to weigh her words, considering them. “Why did you—” he cut himself off, his nostrils flaring, and she tensed.
“If Eris does not even know who you are,” he said slowly, deliberately, “why is his scent all over you?”
She cursed silently. While Eris indeed did not know she had followed him, she had spent the morning training with him and had even embraced him before he left for the Hewn City. This close, the Spymaster must have been able to detect his lingering scent on her.
When she stayed silent, he abruptly rose from his crouched position and stalked from the room, slamming the cell door behind him.
She was in deep shit. Eris was going to kill her.
Alone, she curled herself against the wall, knees to her chest, trying to make herself seem even smaller, even more pathetic, for the benefit of the shadows in the corner that she was sure would report back to their master. She ran through various scenarios in her mind, examining each from every angle before discarding the ones she knew wouldn’t fool the Spymaster. A forbidden romance between a High Lords’ heir and a commoner wouldn’t be too unbelievable, and just scandalous enough that it would make sense that she tried to hide it earlier. She could also use the guise of a lover’s concern to explain her following Eris here. She weighed those points against the negatives, not least of which was the twist in her gut at pretending to be Eris’ lover. Unfortunately, it suggested that she could be used against him as a vulnerability, although they could easily make it seem as though their relationship was one-sided.
Yes, an unrequited affair with a lovesick commoner could very well work. It all depended on Eris playing his part, she supposed.
Sooner than expected, she heard the scrape of boots on stone approaching her cell. She could make out three distinct treads, and took a deep breath as she recognised Eris’ proud gait. The door swung open, and she shrunk further backwards in a display of sheer terror as four imposing males began to fill the increasingly cramped space. Four, not three, because the Spymaster’s steps were wholly silent as he walked in first. Interesting.
He took up a position to her immediate left, the blue stones on his body glinting as he crossed his arms and fixed his dark stare on her with an intensity that made her stomach clench. The High Lord of the Night Court appeared next, his steps unhurried and expression bored, though his violet gaze was calculating as it bore into her from where he leaned against the wall opposite. He too, was stunningly handsome, and radiated elegant wealth from his glossy shoes and velvet jacket to his neat, ink-black hair. She felt her own magic sing in her bones at the pure power rolling off him in waves, but she schooled her features into horror, to mask the awe she felt at his presence.
Eris stalked in after the High Lord, his chin high. He showed no sign of recognition as he looked at her, though she watched a muscle tick in his jaw. Oh, she was in deep, deep shit.
The final male had large wings like the Spymaster, though where his stones were blue, this male had blazing red gems adorning his leather clothes. His hair was almost as long as her own, though tied back to prevent it from falling into his eyes. They were a shade lighter than the Spymasters’, and though the lines around his mouth hinted at frequent smiles, his face was a cold mask. Her attention was drawn to his muscled arms as he crossed them and stood against the closed door, guarding it. The High Lord’s General, she realized with a small thrill. Lord of Bloodshed.
She focused on the crushing weight of power in the small space, the immense combination of muscle and skill and experience, forcing herself to cave in the face of it instead of rising to meet it. She dared another glance at Eris, who now stood in front of her, in the centre of the cell. His face was carefully blank as he turned to the High Lord. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I would very much like to know that as well, Eris.” The High Lord’s voice was a low murmur. “Do you wish to explain why a member of your court was found skulking around the Court of Nightmares while I was busy entertaining you?”
Before he could answer, Adara interjected, hoping to subtly convey her chosen cover story to Eris. “I’m sorry my love,” she cried, “I was worried when you said you were coming here alone so I followed you. I tried telling him that we did not know each other but he scented you on me and I– I– I couldn’t—” she collapsed into loud sobs, trusting him to pick up the lie from there.
But Eris did not begin spinning a tale of love-struck females and their stupidity, as she expected. Instead, he seemed to assess the High Lord in front of him, and then the other two males in the room. Finally, he turned and made eye contact with her, so she could clearly read the words in his expression. Trust me .
She couldn’t help the slight shake of her head as he did, knowing that he only ever looked at her like that before doing something incredibly stupid. Eris just sighed and turned back to Rhysand. “I am genuine in my desire for allyship with you and your court, though I am aware that you do not yet trust me.” A scoff from the long-haired male by the door caught her attention, though Eris ignored it. “To prove my sincerity, I will tell you a truth that precious few know.” He gestured to where she still sat on the ground, and even the High Lord could not keep the curiosity from his gaze as he again regarded her. “This is my sister, Adara Vanserra. The youngest child of my mother and father, and their only daughter”.
“Bullshit,” the General blurted.
“I think what Cassian means to say is that it is not possible,” Rhysand said smoothly. “While I remember that Beron had a daughter centuries ago, I also remember that she died before she even reached maturity.”
“My Father would have preferred it that way, I am sure,” Eris replied. “But I reached an agreement with him instead. Adara was disowned for defying him as a child, and in return for her life and silence, she was allowed to enter my personal service.”
Adara didn’t even try to hide the incredulous look she shot him. What was he doing , telling these people these truths? Did he truly trust them enough to risk her identity?
“And what does she do in your ‘personal service’?” Rhysand asked.
Her brother simply turned to meet her gaze and nodded once. “No more hiding, Adara,” he implored, “I want our allies to see us as we are.”
“On my head be it, I guess,” she muttered. Before she could overthink it, she loosed the dampener on her power, letting her inner fire spread through her blood, melting the carefully constructed disguise of the helpless, terrified girl that she had become. She stood slowly, stretching to her full height and straightening her shoulders, no longer any sign of the fear or pain from before.
When she looked up, the General was gaping at her and even the High Lords’ eyes had widened from where he now stood straight, no longer feigning casualness. Beside her, the Spymaster had gone utterly still, every muscle in his body so tense she thought they might snap. He uncrossed his arms to once again move his hands within quick reach of his weapons, and his shadows began swirling restlessly along the stone floor between his boots. She allowed herself a small smirk as she wiggled her fingers in a mocking wave that had his eyes narrowing, before turning back to the room.
“Everyone believes me to be my brother’s personal servant,” she addressed the High Lord of the Night Court with no trace of the terrified reverence that she had displayed when he walked in. “However, I am actually his loyal spy.”
A beat of silence followed her words, before—
“You are the one that has been collecting all of Eris’ information from the continent,” the Spymaster suddenly said, and her eyes flicked to his. It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway, before shooting him a quick wink.
“You expect this to gain our trust?” The High Lord interjected toward Eris, his voice dangerously low. “Admitting that your spy was prowling around my court?”
It was her that answered. “I was truthful when I said that Eris did not know I followed him here. I do not trust your court and merely came to see if his confidence in your allyship was misplaced.” Ire flashed in Eris’ eyes at the implication, and she felt a rush of guilt for doubting him. If he was willing to expose her, he must be desperate for the Night Court as an ally, which she had just jeopardised with her disobedience.
“I take full responsibility for the actions of my sister,” he said, making her scowl, “But the only people who know of her true identity and loyalty are standing in this room. I trust you understand the weight of that.”
All three of the Night Court males seemed to bristle at the implied threat.
The High Lord was the one to break the thick silence. “Well then,” he drawled, “let us return to the festivities. You have given us much to think about, it seems.”
Without another word he strode to the door, and he and the General walked out into the hallway beyond. Eris and Adara followed, the Spymaster silently trailing after them.