A Court of Dark and Decay

Chapter 5- Black With Rot

They sat for tea in the front room. It was warm in the house, the windows open and a light breeze flowing through.

Though the setting was calm and peaceful- the beautiful sitting room decorated with flowers and obviously expensive decor- the mood was tense. Feyre had taken one look at the white flowing dress Nesta wore and had let Nesta in and prepared the  tea without a word. And Nesta followed and sat without a word.

Feyre came into the room with a silver tray holding three tea cups and a kettle.

Nesta looked at her sister as she set the trey down on the small but extravagant coffee table before them and rested on the chair across from her.

"Are we expecting anyone else?" Nesta asked, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

"I was hoping you would let Elain join us. She's in the garden now." Feyre let the question hang in the air.

Can I trust you around her?

Nesta looked away from her sister. She was nothing more then a rabid animal in Feyre's eyes. No longer sister. Not in any way that mattered at least.

Nesta was done. She was so sick of being seen that way. She was not an animal. She was not rabid or feral. As she took a deep breath, she felt the small pocket she has sewn into the white dress press against her bosom. It centered her.

No, she was not an animal. But the way to prove that was not to lash out like one caged.

So, Nesta asked Feyre, still looking down, "Can I go get her?"

Feyre went still. Nesta still looked down. But Feyre simply took a deep breath and asked, "Do you know your way to the gardens?"

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It seemed all the windows in the grand house were open as the entire house smelt like the beautiful flowers she knew Elain grew. Nesta trailed through the house slowly. Every picture on the wall, every vase with tulips and baby breath, every stoke of carefully picked paint made Nesta crack a little more.

It was so homely. So comfortable. She would never- could never have anything like that. Feyre had no idea how hard it truly was to have everything you knew- your entire world- ripped away from underneath you. She couldn't understand that because when she was changed, when she was made Fae, she had someone to love her. She had a beautiful home to go to. Feyre had never lost. Not like she and Elain had.

When they were made Fae, there were no mates waiting to welcome them. No one to teach them how to simply exist in these new bodies. They lost their lives in their village, Elain had lost whom to her was the love of her life. And then Feyre had ran off to play spy, leaving the two of them with males they barely knew and did not trust in a completely foreign place.

Nesta knew she hadn't been perfect. But she knew she did the best she could with the shitty hand she was dealt. She did her best to protect Elain and keep out of everyones way. What more could she have done? How else could she have made life for Elain easier when everything was so complicated?

The only other question Nesta kept asking herself over and over was, what could she have done differently to have the luck Feyre had?

Rich beyond measure, sickeningly in love with the most powerful male in the realm, adored by her people, a historical figure in Pyrantian's history by anyone's standard.

Nesta was not even close to any of that. But she had tried to be the best sister she could be to Elain. Didn't that count for anything?

Just before the two open glass doors that let outside to the garden, welcoming in a cool breeze, there was a painting on the wall. It was of Feyre and Elain sitting in the garden. In the bottom left corner, it had Feyre's swooping handwriting, marking her as the artist. They sat shoulder to shoulder on a marble bench, surrounded by a large rosebush.