A Court of Wind and Song

17: Lilith

Leur

I hadn't stepped foot inside this house since I came home. We had gone to the mountain cabin before, spent most of last solstice up there. I had gone to the House of Wind, Amren's Apartment, the Mountain Palace, everywhere else.

But not my mother's cabin.

I had seen it from the outside plenty of times, had walked past, stood on the threshold, walked up to the door and braced a hand on that same old doorknob. The one that Rhys brought Cassian through all those years ago, the one I had burst through on the day I met Azriel, and I could never bring myself to walk inside.

And I wasn't entirely sure how I had gotten here, or what had changed in me. All I knew was that one moment I was stalking away from the square after cutting the wings off of those four assholes, and the next moment I was sitting on this familiar couch with tears streaming down my face.

Fuck, I was so tired.

I was tired and half in shock from what had just happened, from everything that had happened in the past few weeks. I was exhausted and I had just done what was essentially considered the worst thing that could be done to an Illyrian.

Four times.

To males who undoubtedly deserved it, but that didn't stop the shock from gripping me.

And all I wanted in the world was to lay down on this couch with my head in my mother's lap and a brush running through my hair. A soft melody in my ear, and none of these things to worry about.

Before I had all of this responsibility before I had truly learned the horrors of life, before I knew death and war.

Was it wrong to wish for those things?

Was it wrong to love the life I had now and still wish to go back in time?

I kicked off my boots, ripping off my bloody gloves and pulling my knees to my chest. This place was the very same as I remembered it, and I felt like I no longer belonged here anymore. It was cold, a newer blue blanket thrown across the side of the couch. I didn't have the energy to grab it, to get up and start a fire in the hearth, to do anything besides sit here and cry.

Like a weight on my shoulders was slowly pushing me under the water, a balance about to tip over as more and more rocks were added to one side.

A knock sounded at the door, gentle and hesitant.

Devlon wishes to speak with us. My shadows sang.

I took a sharp breath in, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I magicked a change of clothes as I walked to the door, one of Azriel's sweaters and a pair of soft leggings, anything besides the bloody leathers. The scent of my mate calmed me enough as I braced my hand on the door that I was prepared for whatever vitriol I'd be met with.

But when I opened the door, I found the older male with a worried look on his face. No scowl, no yelling.

"Are you okay?" He asked, voice a bit softer than usual.

I just blinked at him.

I did not understand this man.

"It's freezing in here, kid." He frowned, pushing past me towards the hearth.

I could have told him to go away or asked him to leave. I could have left the door open as a sign that I did not want him here. I could have said or done something.

Instead, I just shut the door and went to sit on the couch.

Perhaps, I was entirely in shock.