Acotar and Tog [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

I'm Sorry

“I want to train.” Feyre’s voice drifted over to me as she came back to the room after she’d woken and left to change for the day. Her face was resolute. “With you - I mean,” she said and folded her arms.

Dawn had barely crested outside our window. And it was an icy cold morning.

Regardless, I snapped my fingers and wondered what had wormed into her mind that she suddenly didn’t find my request to train her so repulsive anymore.

My clean suit vanished, replaced by Illyrian fighting leathers. Thick snow boots appeared at Feyre’s feet along with a bow and quiver of arrows. I summoned my own sword and strapped it to my back as Feyre took a deep breath and started working on the boots, casually ignoring the weapons I’d given her.

I had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before we’d both be in need of them.

When she’d finished, I extended my hand and we winnowed outside into the snow, which crunched beneath our boots as we entered the thick of trees surrounding the estate.

The wind nipped cold at my nose. And even though these forests smelled of Feyre, there was a dull, lifeless stillness to the way they sat unfriendly and unwelcome at our advance.

“Freezing my ass off first thing in the morning isn’t how I intended to spend our day off,” I told her.  “I should take you to the Illyrian Steppes when we return - the forest there is far more interesting. And warmer.”

Feyre crinkled her nose. “I have no idea where those are. You showed me a blank map that one time, remember?”

“Precautions.”

“Am I ever going to see a proper one, or will I be left to guess about where everything is?”

First the training, now the map, and all of it so demanding and unapologetic. Where - had this woman come from today?

“You’re in a lovely mood today,” I said stopping in a small clearing. A map unfolded between us, this time the names of cities written across it. “Lest you think I don’t trust you, Feyre darling...”

But Feyre was glued to the map considering, trying to understand. It was hard not to think what she might have done if her family had bothered giving her a real education. She was a focused, intent pupil.

“These are the Steppes,” I explained, guiding her through the northern lands. “Four days that way on foot will take you into Illyrian territory.”

Feyre’s brow furrowed as she understood and then seemed to recoil away slightly, uncomfortable. Her eyes flitted south on the map towards other courts and her face went very solemn.

I nearly split the Spring Court in two vanishing the map away. “Here,” I said. “We’ll train here. We’re far enough now.”

Far enough to keep the other safe lest Feyre lose control.

And far enough that anyone lurking about in the all too silent woods might get cozy enough to want to come a little nearer and see what they might make of Feyre.

I had to know.

I summoned a candle and held it to her. “Light it, douse it with water, and dry the wick,” I instructed.

Feyre stared at the candle like it were a giant question mark upon paper.

“I can’d do a single one of those things,” she informed me hotly. “What about physical shielding?”

Red paints.

A flash of blonde hair and green eyes.

And an explosion before air had cocooned around her and kept her from... what, what would Feyre have met that day had her body not taken over for her?