When The Last Ember Falls

Sixteen

Eris:

It had been several days since Nesta's arrival and yet it felt like a lifetime. Maybe because I was gaining a plethora of memories that I would treasure until the day I die. Not to be dramatic or anything.

I was already feeling better. Slowly healing on my own but being beside her, I felt...human. I finally found the strings of my humanity I thought I cut ages ago.

Something in my stomach fluttered as I thought of her expression as Cindra and I unveiled her room. I didn't want her to feel obligated to sleep in my chambers or bed. Not that I would mind if she did. But I can't let myself hope for that. Not when her heart belonged to the winged bastard. It would be my fucking luck that it was him.

After taking Nesta for our daily stroll through the magnolia garden, my mother had stopped by for a visit. She informed us of a ball—one taking place tonight of all nights. I stared between Nesta and my mother, wishing to disappear into the mattress and never return.

Mother patted Nesta's slender hand affectionately, "Cindra will tend to you, my dear."

Nesta's cheeks flushed, her protests starting and quickly ending as her eyes caught mine. "If you'll excuse me..." she shimmied off the corner of my bed, leaving for her chambers.

"What are you up to, mother?" I sighed, shaking my head in bewilderment after Nesta made her exit. I could feel the ends of my hair getting caught in my beard.

She patted my arm, "nothing, nothing at all." Mother barely raised her voice, "Mikayl?" A sun-fae soldier appeared in the doorway. "Will you please help my son with his formal trousers? I'm sure he will feel less awkward if you were to help him."

The golden warrior nodded, bowing to her as she left the room.

We watched as she exited my chambers, loudly shutting the door behind her. Mikayl opened my wardrobe, hunting for my formal attire. I had never seen a sun-fae up close before. My father hated them, said we didn't need any more Day Court faes in this territory.

Mikayl gathered my cerulean-colored trousers and a fawn-colored, brocade tunic. With little hesitation, he then grabbed the matching overcoat and leather boots. I'm sure mother had given him a list of clothing in order to prepare himself.

"Mikayl? Cindra's Mikayl?" I tried at small talk. This was going to be uncomfortable for us both, I was sure of it.

"Indeed," he beamed, setting the clothes beside me. Mikayl assisted in turning me towards the edge of the bed.

I groaned as I sat up by myself, feeling a portion of my wound stretch too far. "You must have your hands full," I remarked, untying my trouser laces as he stood waiting.

"Always," he laughed gingerly, yanking down my trousers. Avoiding eye contact with my lower half entirely, he replied, "but I would not have it any other way, my lord."

I hated this but I was thankful it was him and not Cindra again. "What makes you say that?" I continued our conversation, as I stepped into my fancy trousers. Gold and copper embroidery were added to the belt line and pockets years ago.

Mikayl lifted up my pants, luckily not tying them for me. He gave me the decency of doing that myself. I held onto the wooden post of my bed, guiding myself back to the mattress. I tried to restrict my movements but it didn't matter, I winced every time.

He slid on my socks, tucking them under my trousers. "I love her, I just haven't told her yet," he struggled to get the boots on, having to undo more of the laces than he originally thought, "but I know she loves me too."