A Court of Mortal Love (ACOTAR Fanfic)

Chapter 3

Father had come to save me. I lay folded in a duvet so feather-soft, it reminded me of Ma, before she ran away. She was never loved by Father, that's what she claimed in her letter. A letter she never needed to write—everyone knew it was true. Father had always been in love with Elain (who's name I only just found out), the prettiest girl in town, made Fae by something they called the Cauldron. And Father denied her after that. He had vowed, from childhood, in front of my grandfather, never to be with a Fae. I didn't particularly like thinking about all that; because he needed to love Ma, and he never had. I wish he never settled for anything he considered to be seconds.
    Even if it meant I would never have been born.
    I opened my eyes, looking for the door and knowing how many locks Father would have placed on it. On the windows as well. He would have seen the blood, discovered the Fae, and locked his precious prize of a daughter up for good. I was more precious to him than anything, even Elain, and when I discovered why, I ran away—and was found by those men. Then found by that Fae sentry. Apparently I looked like Elain—milk chocolate hair and large, round eyes to match, pale skin and pinkened cheeks on a round, heart-shaped face with a delicate chin—and was certain I was named after her too. Father picked my name, and Ma, in unknowing bliss at the time, thought it was lovely. I was his second chance, come to him as a daughter, and he cherished and treated me as such; but the idea so repulsed me that I couldn't stand to set eyes on him again.
    "Does it still hurt?"
    I blinked and brought the room into focus, and realised I was sitting up in bed. The doors weren't locked—the windows were wide open, letting in a mild breeze. Grand windows, and I in a grand, royal bed.
    My eyes found the woman who spoke and I scrambled, grasping at the blankets and screeching. My Father had no bed like this, and that—she—was a Fae. Terrifying in sight, her eyes were twice as big as the sentry who took me—
    I fell off the other side, and screamed again, grabbing at the tall glass lamp and hauling it up in front of me. "Bring me back. Bring me back!" I shuttered, my teeth bared and stinging as I sucked in breath after breath.
    "Miss, calm yourself, I'm not here to hurt you," She had stood from her chair beside the bed—the biggest bed I had ever seen, the duvet looked like it was made of liquid gold. "We had a healer come immediately, as soon as we got you back here."
    "Where's here?" I bit out, but shifted my weight, testing the feel between my legs and—nothing. Had it ever happened? Had I been in a dream, and thrown into another one?
    No, of course not.
    "You're at—"
    But at that moment, there was a knock at the bedroom doors. Two tall doors, twice as high as my Father's grandest doors at home; they were green, with paintings of flowers and vines, rabbits and foxes.
    "Who's that?" I hissed, and she merely turned around, and went to cautiously open the door. I heard a low voice and I jumped back. It was not the sentry from the forest, that much I knew—this voice was softer, deeper, and rumbled forth richly instead of the sharp, sneering cut of the sentries'. She glanced over her shoulder at me, and opened the door the slightest bit more, letting him in and bowing to him before looking at me expectantly.
    Was I supposed to bow?
    I gripped the lamp harder, the metal and glass of its stand digging into my palm. I focused on the breeze coming through the windows, blowing over my cheeks, cooling their warmth.
    He was gorgeous.
    He was spring. Life. Beauty.
    He was deadly.
    He was the High Lord. I knew it, could sense it in his immense size and build, compared to the other Fae. It was also in the golden hair that flowed gracefully around his shoulders, the firm, thick set of his jaw and the clothes that fit him just right, seeming to glow with power.
    I trembled, and nearly whimpered.
    I forced my mouth open, forced sound through my throat where there had been blood earlier, trickling down and choking me. "Stay away."
    He took another step forward, and then stopped, his green eyes set on me. Green and fierce like the sentry who had been above me. Was this the High Lord of that sentry? Had he come to claim me as his prize?
    A tear, so cold, fell down my cheek and I swiped at it. "Please don't," I whispered. The chain on the lamp shade clinked against the glass as I trembled.
    "I won't," He said, and his voice was something sweet; it held me, sang to me, and I smelt flowers and—
    Tasted them, in my mouth, before the bite of iron from my blood drowned the velvet flower petal of the abusers tongue.
    A cry escaped me, and I sucked in a breath.
    "I would return you, but Hybern has come for the town. For your Father."
    "You lie," I snapped. "You lie so you can keep me here, locked up, so you can rape me day and night, and when I fight, you will use your claws on me and throw me across the room. I've heard the stories—stories of the abusive lover, Tamlin, the High Lord of the Spring Court. He should be the High Lord of Hybern, seeing how Hybern Fae act the same as yours. How many young women who disappeared, only for what happened to them to be paraded in front of our faces, dangled like prizes in front of all of us—and who was it that was with Hybern? The one High Lord in all of Pryhtian who sided with them? Tamlin," I trembled, and swallowed, waiting to see the tell-tale claws that came forth from his hands. Waiting to feel their sting, to see his rage. But there was only sorrow, and gentless, as his eyes shuttered at the accusations. "I've heard the stories. I've seen the paintings. My father warned me of you, most of all."
    "I know," He said softly, and I took another step back.
    I didn't tell him I heard the stories of his betrayal of Hybern—that he was with them as a spy. That he helped rescue the one girl kept by Hybern, in their camp. That he saved the most powerful High Lord of all—Rhysand—the one who stole his own bride—a bride whom he abused. My jaw clenched shut.
    "He stands to be either executed or banished," He spoke softly, his hands clenched into fists at his side. I heard his deep inhale before those pink lips parted, "You have the choice," He turned, and left the room.
    I wanted him back.
    I scratched at my own arm as I set the lamp down, punishing that thought. I shouldn't hope for anything.
    "Once you decide, if you wish to decide," The woman continued, moving to the wardrobe to open it and show me the array of clothing at my disposal, "You can find me, or the High Lord, and ask us to take you anywhere you wish. Though only the High Lord can take you places. I can come along if you wish. As soon as you leave the room, don't fear running into sentries—he's cleared the place of all guards for your convenience."
    I stared back at her, feeling more tears brimming.
    "It cost him—letting them know that you, a Mortal, will decide the guards' punishment. He's worked many years earning back the trust of his force," With that, she sniffed, and left the room, shutting the door behind her.