Winds of Fire [ACOTAR]

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

Beron blinked, tilting his head at his son. "You don't mean that. You could never beat me, Lucien."

As if summoned by his son's absurd suggestion, Helion—High Lord of the Day Court—broke into the clearing. His long dark hair flew behind him as he rushed forward, a cut through his brow and clothes dishevelled from fighting. Lady Autumn reached out for him, hand wrapping around his forearm as he stopped at her side, joining the small group of fae and Illyrians.

"Daddy come to save you?" Beron rolled his eyes, watching as Lucien stalked over to his father.

"What's going on here?" Helion asked, taking note of each person and the tense atmosphere that rose with each passing breath.

"I'm ending this." Was all Lucien said, lashes fluttering against his umber cheek. He was looking more and more like his father as the years passed.

Primrose squeezed Orion's hand as her mate nodded to his father, the pair gazing at one another. She knew that they weren't close, but there was a love between them regardless. A love that needed to be known as Lucien stood with his father, the father that had never truly been his dad.

"Please," Lady Autumn begged, "my boy, my baby."

Lucien pressed a kiss to his mother's brow, offering her a tight-lipped smile. She had been up for involving Lucien, but not this: not the possibility of losing her favourite child. But, as Lucien moved to turn, it was Helion who reached out.

"I just got you back," he whispered, voice raw as he pushed his forehead to his son's.

"You'll have me still," he insisted, eyes closing, "You'll have me, Dad."

Lady Autumn's sob came from a place of happiness, but also one of longing and grief. Before Helion could say anything else, Lucien was turning, brushing past the row of people and toward Beron. "I may not be your son, but I am still a member of the Autumn Court. My title of High Lord is valid, and ridding you of your crown makes me beyond happy. Especially after Eris."

"Try all you like, but only one of us will walk away from this, and it won't be you," he growled, eyes turning fiery.

As Lucien nodded, removing his jacket to free his arm movement, it was Feyre who stepped forward, "You don't have to do this, Lucien."

They had been a group once, a trio; Feyre, her father, and Lucien. They may not be as close as they once were, Tamlin completely outcast from the group, but there was still that bond, that love that had always been there and would never go away.

His smile was full of sadness as he looked over his shoulder at the High Lady, "Yes, I do."

Squeezing her palm, Primrose felt grateful to have Orion at her side, about to squeeze back when she realised he was trying to get her attention, pulling her slightly. She looked at him, noticing the spread out circle everyone was making. Holding his hand from a distance, she refused to let go as the circle closed, Lucien and Beron encased in their makeshift ring.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ears before raising his fists, "Ready when you are."

"I'm always ready," he smirked, eyes narrowed.

The sun had started to rise over the mountains, the land swallowed in golden light. Primrose blinked, a mare flutter of her lashes before Beron and Lucien were racing toward each other, crashing like thunder. The duel had begun.