Chapter Text
"And I don't even care if it makes me sound insane-
I ran my fingers through your hair
And I thanked God to touch the flame."-Conan Gray, Alley Rose
Lucien
Everyone’s eyes went to me.
“You’ll have me with you?” I asked, on impulse.
Elain looked horrified. “I -you have to.”
It took me a minute to remember, and once I did, I felt idiotic. Here I was thinking she was choosing me as her companion for fun, then I remembered it was because of that stupid tracking curse. As if she realized how absurd it was too, she quickly added, “You don’t have to. By any means. That’s absurd of me to suggest. I’ll - I’ll go to Helion on my own - if I can last that long-”
“What?” Vassa asked. She sat forward. “I’m confused.”
Panic threaded through me at the idea of her going to the Day Court. Sybil had never said Helion knew he was my father, and I didn’t know if he and Elain had ever met, but if he got her alone - if he worked his magic on her to undo her tracking curse - he might be able to feel me in her. Maybe he’d recognize I was his son.
And that was besides the truth, which was that I wanted to travel with Elain. I wanted more time. I had feelings for her. If she wanted me to come with her, then-
“There’s a curse on me,” Elain answered Vassa at last. “Somebody is tracking me.”
No one said anything. Tarquin narrowed his eyes.
“A beast was chasing after me,” she added quickly. “Until I ran into Lucien. It lost my scent. We think it’s because- because we're-"
"When I'm near her," I interrupted, "The curse is cleaved temporarily. But only if we stay near each other.”
She was under the impression that it was because we were mates. That was a lie, one all of the people at this table would sit through; she was the only one who did not know yet that Helion Spellcleaver was my father. I had to tell her soon - had to tell her that was the real reason why. It hadn't dawned on me until now that perhaps putting that pressure on her, of our being mates being what saved her, might've stressed her out more.
I hadn't been able to tell her it was Helion before. But I would now. If I could find the nerve.
Sybil looked a little spooked; Vassa and Jurian looked inscrutable, and Tarquin - Tarquin didn’t look happy, either, to my surprise. Only Reading looked impassive, like this was just casual conversation. I saw his hand move to Sybil’s hand, and after a moment, she said, “It’s Feyre, isn’t it? Tracking you.”
I felt humiliation, sharp and fast, pass through me like I was the one who was embarrassed. Before Elain could even react, before her face could flood with red, I felt it. Then, she whipped her head towards Sybil and said, sharply, “Does it matter?”
Sybil recoiled. “I- I’m sorry. I just meant-”
The moment Sybil looked horrified, Elain did too. She quickly said, “no, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
She looked around at all of us, flabbergasted in our own ways, then stood.
“I’ll go to the Day Court on my own.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “Elain, you can’t winnow.”
“It’s only one court down. I’ll walk. By the time I get there-”
She was already picking up her skirt and moving around her chair. I stood too, ignoring everyone’s bewilderment. She was being a martyr; she was embarrassed by her relationship with Feyre, by Feyre herself following her everywhere she went, and she’d lashed out, and now she was acting like she was a villain for it. Sybil would understand if Elain gave her a chance, but she didn’t, grabbing her bag and making a break for the door.
My own embarrassment flooded through me this time.
“Elain!” I exclaimed. “Elain, wait.”
But she was running, now, out of the kitchen and down a staircase. This had been where she’d started; she was no doubt as haunted by her lack of progress as me. And it made her falter - made her stumble. I caught up with her and grabbed her by the hand.
“For the love of the Cauldron,” I said. “Hold on.”
Elain didn’t move as I stepped around her, planting myself on the staircase so that I was looking up at her. It was a shadowy staircase, old and stone; I could feel cool air from the Autumn day outside coming in through the cracks in the stone.
“You don’t need to feel bad for snapping at Sybil,” I said. “She would - at least I think she would - understand. You don’t need to run. I’ll go with you to summer.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Elain said, immediately. “You are not my knight, Lucien. You have no obligation to me.”
It hurt to hear her say that, because all I could see was my serving Tamlin. My serving Feyre. Vassa and Jurian and I, laughing and on equal footing. I wanted to be like that, to not be the knight, but gods, at the same time-
“I want to,” I said. “I want to help you travel.”
“I’ll go to Helion,” she said. “I’ll get it figured out myself.”
“You don’t need to,” I said. “And besides - he -”
He’d be able to cleave it. I could not lie to her. Besides, was it even right of me to do so, when she might want that? I was assuming she was martyring herself. It was possible she wanted to be on her own. She deserved that freedom, and she deserved the ability to travel without me.
“He?” Elain asked.
My mouth was dry. “It doesn’t matter.”
Elain stared at me for a moment. Then she said, “I know he’s your father.”
I was so taken aback I nearly fell backwards down the stairs.
“What?”
“I overheard Feyre and Rhysand talking about it,” she said. “They’ve known since - since Feyre first met him.”
This time I really did stumble back.
Feyre knew.
Feyre had looked me in the eyes and not told me - not told me that I did not have to be homeless. That I had a place in Prythian I had a birthright to.
I knew I shouldn’t be surprised. But I was. Surprised and hurt. Angry.
For a moment, nothing else mattered. Then I said, “Elain, we’re going to summer.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs. She didn’t fight me, but when we reached the top, she stopped.
“Do they know?"
"Yes," I said. "That's why I cut you off. So you would not look left out. This isn't because we're mates. It's because of Helion."
She stared at me for a moment. I waited for her to ask where my latent desire to not be seen as Helion's son came from - waited for her to chastise me for caring about who my father was. But she didn't. She only said, "The court - the Summer Court - they'll think we're a couple."
“no, they won't,” I said. “Because you’ll tell them the truth of why I can cleave your curse.”
She looked at me for a moment. And for a moment, a brief moment, we had sheer, clear understanding. Then she nodded, and we walked together back to the kitchen.
I had never been someone held back by people's expectations. I had been vain, yes, but always with confidence thrumming under it. I'd never cared if the rest of the court didn't respect me - I cared that they didn't love me, but that was irrelevant - and I didn't even care as my pride was taken down, time and again, by being Tamlin and the night court's errand dog. But something about not being a prince of Autumn after all - about belonging in Day - terrified me the more I thought about it.
Whatever it came from, Elain understood because she'd been there, too. She'd always been expected to be the good girl, the pleasant girl, the one who was polite to the mate she didn't want, the one who never did anything but sit still and look pretty. When she'd realized she was different, she'd had to make that difficult choice of pushing against it - of leaving without a trace.
But leaving places and telling people - that was the easy part.
The hard part was owning it.
