A Court of Lost Stars-Chapter 21: Bitter On His Tongue

Nova sat on the coffee table with Potato snuggled into her lap, her foot resting on Feyre's knee as Madja examined the puffy red lines that trailed from the middle of Nova's outer thigh to the bottom of her calf. The only thing at the moment keeping her still enough to allow an assessment was the purring furball Nova didn't want to disturb.

"She's healing very nicely—I'm impressed. I would have expected more time and tonic for only two days' worth of healing." Madja said, smiling up at Nova fondly.

Rhys sat next to Feyre with a satisfied nod. "She healed quickly from the bear trap, too, " he said as Madja tried to take Nova's hands in hers, but Nova instinctively pulled back and scowled at Madja.

Smiling sadly, Madja nodded with understanding. "The hands and feet are the most difficult to heal and can be the most painful. Her hands are the worst of her injuries," she frowned, glancing at Feyre and Rhysand, "You'll need to keep an eye on them and change the bandages regularly. I've set more tonic in her room if you need something to help keep her calm during the process."

Feyre cringed. She hated sending Nova into another lethargic state to prevent infection, but she also wasn't fond of holding her down to scrub her hands. It was a losing situation either way.

"Nova," Rhys spoke gently, "May I see your hands?"

"No, thank you."

Biting his lower lip, his pointed ears twitched at the sound of the back door opening and closing, followed by the familiar sound of Ana walking inside and putting her coat and scarf away.

"Hm, Ana will be worried. We should show her." Rhys tried, hoping and praying this wouldn't have to become a forced task. Madja had to see the healing progress, and soon, Nova would be left without a choice.

"Show me what?" Ana asked as she entered the sitting room. "Oh," she murmured, seeing the frown on Nova's features, "I was told you got hurt this past weekend. Are you okay, Nova?" Ana asked, kneeling to the ground next to where she sat.

Frowning, Nova looked down at her bandaged hands. She could feel the skin beneath throbbing with a deep ache that seemed to settle in her bones. The last thing she wanted to do was uncover them.

"Can I see them?" Ana asked, her brow pulled together with concern.

Her sly glance landed on Madja. It seemed whenever that lady was around, Nova felt pain. Well, not today. She was not allowed to touch her hands.

"Nova?" Ana asked and placed her hands behind her back. "I only want to see with my eyes to make sure you're okay."

Casting another look at Madja, then at her parents, Nova slowly let her fingers uncurl around the wrappings of her hands. She picked a piece and wound it off, letting the brown-stained bandage fall to the floor. Without fully extending her fingers, she let Ana see the angry red that lashed across her hands.

"Hm," Madja nodded, assessing the skin around the long gouges. She pursed her lips into a thin line and said, "It's not bad, but I do see where infection may be starting to take root. She needs them thoroughly cleaned. Not a little dunk in water," she said to Feyre specifically, "They need to be scrubbed."

Nova knew what scrubbed meant. An image of a bristled brush against a dirty pot in the kitchen sprang to mind, and she quickly held her hands to her chest again with a venomous glower. Then, with a curl of her lip, she snarled at Madja. "I bite you."

"You will not," Rhysand said, frowning at her. "There are some things you don't want to do that you have to do, and this is one of them."

Nova sneered at him, but Rhys had already left the room. He returned quickly after, holding a bottle in his hands.

"You can either drink this," he held it out to her, "or not, but you will let Madja help you." Rhys quickly pulled it out of her reach as Nova swung her leg up to try and knock the bottle out of his hands. He clenched his jaw, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply through his nose. Turning to Feyre, he handed her the tonic. "I need a break." He said through clenched teeth before vacating the townhouse.

Watching him leave, Nova couldn't stop the tremble of her lip. Why did he want to hurt her?

She wiped a stray tear with the back of her hand as Feyre leaned forward. "Nova," she said gently, "Your hands aren't safe."

Furrowing her brow, Nova looked down at her hands and frowned before glancing back at her mother.

"What I mean is..." Feyre tried again. "They're sick. If we don't help your hands, they'll hurt more. I know you don't want to do it, but we need to keep them safe."

Nova slowly shook her head and pressed her hands to her chest again. As Feyre feared, she refused to let them touch her hands. Ana couldn't handle this side of Nova, and Rhys hadn't returned yet.

This was going to be bad.

Ana cringed, not meeting Azriel or Cassian's eyes as Nova's screeches filled the townhouse. They'd appeared shortly after Rhysand had returned in time to help Feyre and Madja, his disposition calm as he helped take Nova to the bathroom where, at this moment, they were scrubbing the infection from her hands.

Running his fingers through his hair, his bun coming loose, Cassian stared at the floor with a deep frown as Potato curled on top of his boot. "She's probably going to hate us all now," he said, shaking his head, "I just wished she understood we're trying to help her."

Ana wished she could say none of her trust would be broken- being forced to do anything, even with good intentions, wasn't something a person forgot or quickly forgave. She finally met Azriel's eyes, finding they were already trained on her. Quickly, she pulled her gaze away and listened as Nova's angry screams turned into subtle whimpers. She stood then and excused herself to the kitchens just before Madja emerged from the bathroom.

Cringing, Cassian asked what he didn't want to know. "How often will that have to be done?"

"The worst is over," Madja smiled gently as she packed her equipment. "Tonight, she must rinse them with mild soap and water." She stared at his guilty expression. "And allow me to be the first to tell you I was wrong."

Cas and Az exchanged a glance before looking at Madja.

"What?" Cassian blinked.

Madja nodded. "She should learn how to defend herself. Knowing this family for as long as I have, these injuries are bound to happen." She offered a small parting smile before exiting.

It took Nova what felt like ages to come out of the bathroom with freshly bandaged hands. She swayed a little as she walked. The tonic eased the pain but didn't aid in her equilibrium. She plopped down between her uncles, eyes still red as she sniffled.

"Hey, kid." Cas smiled softly, but Nova was focused on Az's hands.

While her parents took a seat near them, she held her bandaged hands to Azriel's scarred ones. Maybe one day, her hands would look like his.

She supposed the pain wouldn't be so bad if that were true.

Just as Nova settled into the couch's cushion and closed her eyes, the warm scent of honey-glazed sticky buns drifted from the kitchen.

The rest of yesterday had been spent with Nova dozing off between taking her tonic and eating sticky buns. Ana had stayed conversing with the others for a while, but Nova was in higher spirits today. With her hands on the mend and the start of the infection gone, she willingly let her mother cleanse her hands before applying new bandages.

Ana sat across from Nova at the breakfast table and smiled. "What would you like to do today?" She has adjusted her lessons to ensure she doesn't use her hands too much.

"Beach..." Nova started but stopped as Ana arched a knowing eyebrow at her. With a partially disgruntled sight, Nova took out her paper of counting circles and touched each as she said her sentence. "I want...to..." She glanced at Ana.

"Go." She provided.

"Go to...the beach..."

Smiling, Ana said, "That was a very nice sentence, but won't it be cold at the beach today?"

Nova pouted with a tilt of her head before resting her chin on the table. "I want shells..."

"Hm," Ana nodded and turned to look at Rhysand and Feyre. "Would it be alright if I took her briefly?"

With a smile, Feyre nodded. "I think that should be fine. Just make sure she doesn't try to pick up any more crabs." She cringed at the thought of Nova's finger falling victim to another set of pinching claws.

"Alright then," Ana nodded at Nova, "When you're finished, we can go to the beach."

Nova took one huge spoonful of yogurt and berries before scrambling off the chair to bolt down the hallway.

Chuckling, Rhys leaned back in his chair. "We'll be here if you need anything."

Feyre wrinkled her nose; she wished they could join them at the beach. She'd take the frigid cold over replying to Beron's countless letters about reconsidering the arrangement. Meeting Ana's worried gaze, Feyre forced a tight smile. She didn't dare bring up the antics of the Autumn Court in front of her, not since Azriel uncovered a few days ago that it was Beron himself who'd sent the order to kill her father. They weren't entirely sure if it was something Ana wanted to know, so they kept it to themselves for now.

Suddenly, Nova returned wearing one of Rhys' winter coats. It swallowed her frame, but she looked snug and warm inside it. Topped with a hat and scarf, she looked ready to voyage across the snow-capped mountains.

"And mittens," Feyre said, pointing at her bandaged hands. "If your hands get cold, they'll start to hurt."

Nova frowned and stretched her fingers slowly, a feat she couldn't have accomplished without help yesterday. Finally, she sighed and retreated to find the pair of red wool mittens. With one last nod of approval, she and Ana made their way from the warmth of the townhouse to the chilled, snow-covered beach.

By the time they reached the frozen sand, Ana was shivering under her layers while Nova grinned and bounded toward the waves.

"Don't touch the water, Nova," Ana called. "It's far too cold."

Nova stopped in her tracks as a figure loomed ahead. It bent down and picked something off the sand before straightening its frame.

"Peter!" Nova grinned before dashing toward him, stopping short of colliding with him.

A flush of pink colored Peter's cheeks as he grinned under the hood of his coat. "Hi Nova..." He looked down at his hands, his fingers red with cold, but in his palms, he held a collection of differently sized and colored sea shells.

Nova studied them with a longing sigh. "Oh...pretty..." She murmured.

"They're for you," Peter said, "I, well, I have a jar full I planned to give you when I saw you next, but you haven't been around the city." He frowned a little, studying her face. "Have you been okay?"

Looking up at him, Nova tilted her head and smiled. "I'm okay."

Smiling, Peter nodded. "Oh, good. I miss seeing you at the bakery," he pursed his lips, "You know you could come over any time. I can show you how to work the ovens and..."

Nova listened, smiling as she watched his face.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "Anyway, you can hold onto these, and the next time you come to the bakery, I'll get you the jar." Peter started to place the shells into her hands, but Nova pulled back and frowned.

"I got hurt." She said, meeting his frown with one of her own. "My hands."

Peter furrowed his brows. "I thought...you said you were okay. You got hurt?"

"I'm okay."

Worrying his lower lip, Peter nodded hesitantly before carefully tucking the shells into the jacket's pockets. "There," he smiled softly, "I won't ask to hold your hand this time." He grinned, and Nova grinned, too.

It wasn't quite a half hour later when Ana approached them, her teeth chattering. "Alright, let's get back up to the house." She said, watching Nova use her boot to scuff the surface of the sand, revealing more jagged edges of hidden treasures buried beneath.

Looking up, she frowned with disappointment before looking over at Peter. His nose was red, but he was still combing for shells they may have missed.

"It's okay, I can keep looking." He nodded.

"Nonsense," Ana said, "Let's go into the city, and we can all have a cup of hot chocolate. Come on then, before we lose any toes."

With that, they set off toward Velaris, shells clanging in their pockets. The walk took longer against the bracing wind, and by the time they reached the city's first building, they were all shivering. Sevenda greeted them with a warm smile as they bustled into her restaurant.

"You three look frozen," Sevenda smiled. "Take a seat, and I'll get you something warm." Thanking her, Ana led Peter and Nova across the restaurant to a small booth in the corner. They settled into the soft cushions with a satisfied sigh.

"You must have a thousand shells by now," Peter said to Nova with a smile, who grinned in return. "What will you even do with them all?"

Nova tilted her head, staring at him.

"What will you do with the shells?" Peter asked again with a patient smile.

A grin spread over her features as she registered the question, "Art!" She giggled and put her mittens to her mouth as surprised eyes looked their way.

Ana couldn't help but laugh, too. "You could make many fine pieces of art with shells."

Carrying three bowls of hot soup, Sevenda set them down in front of each other, along with mugs of hot chocolate covered in thick whipped topping. Nova grinned and leaned forward, smelling the sweet cream, which clung to her nose. She tried to lick it away but to no avail.

Peter laughed and handed her a napkin, shaking his head.

"Thank you, Sevenda," Ana said as Peter used a spoon to pile his whipped cream onto Nova's mug, grinning as her eyes lit up. Ana continued, "It's frigid out."

As Ana and Sevenda discussed the weather and how many weeks until it would be warmer, Peter watched Nova with a smile as she happily drank her hot chocolate. Occasionally, she'd reach into her pocket and offer a shell to him, but he'd politely decline.

"You need it for your art." He smiled.

The door opened, and a familiar face walked through the door. Nova tilted her head and smiled at Finch's side profile. He surveyed the room before letting it settle on their table. A cocky smirk curved his lips as he sauntered toward them, hands in his pockets.

"Kyra's looking for you," Finch said to Peter.

Peter frowned, "Why? Is something wrong?"

Finch looked Nova over, shrugging, addressing her whipped cream mustache with an arched brow and sly smirk. "I don't know," he continued, "She just said she wanted to talk to you."

Nova, however, was staring at Finch's face. She was particularly focused on the yellow, sickly looking bruise under his left eye that stretched to his jaw. Standing to her feet, she reached forward and touched the spot.

"Hurt?" She asked, but Finch pulled away, his brow forming a rigid scowl. Then, quicker than Nova could understand, he was smirking again.

"No, I'm fine," he grinned, showcasing his perfect teeth, "You should see the other guy."

Slowly, Nova sank back into her seat but slowly nodded as she dipped her spoon into the soup and took a scalding mouthful. Looking up at Peter, she watched him worry his lower lip as he stared at Finch.

"We will." Ana laughed in return for something Sevenda said before turning to greet Finch. "Will you be joining us?"

"Nah," Finch smirked, "Just heading out, but so you know, another storm's going to blow through here in a bit."

Nodding, Ana smiled. "Thank you. So then you make sure you're bundled up." She looked at his bare hands, red and cracked from the cold. Frowning, she looked up at his face. "Oh, here..." She removed her gloves, but Finch smirked and rolled his eyes. He turned, leaving before Ana had the chance to give him anything.

"Just find Kyra," Finch called over his shoulder before leaving the restaurant, ducking out into the blistery cold. Peter watched his friend go, swallowing back the secrets he swore he'd never tell.

"I think it's time we get back," Ana said after paying for their soups and drinks. "It's likely time to wash your hands and apply new bandages."

Nova wrinkled her nose at the thought, slowly sliding her hands into her pockets.

"Now, Nova," Ana said sternly, "The only way those hands will get better is if you take care of them. Let's go."

"Hmm," Nova said, trying to stall time, "Walk?"

Peter bit his lip, trying to hide his smile as he glanced between them. Nova did try to pull fast ones, didn't she? Often, it seemed, but never in a way that seemed mean, he thought.

Taking a moment of contemplation, Ana nodded. "Use a full sentence, and we can take the long way back to the townhouse, and then it's straight to the sink."

"I want...to walk." Nova grinned and then turned to Peter. "And you."

The back of his neck suddenly felt hot as he looked at Ana for permission. He'd never been to the High Lord and Lady's house before. All he could picture were fancy things, all ornate and beautiful.

"That would be up to your parents, Nova," Ana replied gently.

Peter smiled, a strange sense of relief washing over him. He wasn't sure he wanted to be under the watchful eye of her parents, anyway. "Maybe another time, but Finch was right; if you're going to beat the storm, you should probably go now."

Glancing out the window, Ana observed the darkening sky and nodded. "Hm, we should. Come on, Nova."

With a sad parting glance, Nova waved goodbye to Peter, who shyly returned the wave before she and Ana began the journey home.

"I imagine you're tired from today," Ana said, glancing at Nova as they entered the snow-covered trees. "Are you feeling any pain?"

Nova looked down at her hands and frowned before looking up at her. "My...hands...hurt."

Concern warped her brow as Ana looked around the path that would wind them around the forest's edge to get to the townhouse. "We can cut through here, I think. Let's just get you home." Ana wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders before stepping off the path, guiding her through the snow.

The uphill climb wasn't too steep, so they managed it just fine, even with Ana's uncoordinated gait. "It's not much further now," she said reassuringly, noticing Nova slow down. Soon, they entered a clearing, and Ana paused to rest. Perhaps they should have taken the longer way; there certainly would have been less debris to avoid.

"Fire?" Nova asked, tilting her head as she moved through a snow drift into a flatter section of the clearing.

Following her path, Ana frowned as she took in the sight. "You're right. Someone does have a fire going." A little pit surrounded by stones flicked with flames, flicking the underbelly of a small black cauldron. With deeply set frowns, they took the space in. A little shelter of wood and cloth sat like a tent near the fire, a pile of blankets and clothes tucked away inside.

Nove froze as the sensation of a set of eyes settled on her, chilling her to her bones. She looked around, gazing into the skeletal forest before her frown stretched into a grin.

"Finch!"

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Finch cringed and sighed before forcing his smirk into place. Suddenly, with confidence, he walked out into the clearing, giving away his position. "Like it?" He asked with a grin.

Blinking the falling snow from her lashes, Ana stared at him. Oh, she thought, he was just a teenager. "Have you been living here?" She asked in bewilderment with a sickening twist of her stomach.

"Me?" Finch asked and shook his head. "Nah, I mean, I come out here sometimes. I live over that way." He pointed through a dense section of woods, where, sure enough, a small dilapidated shack sat against the cold. Smoke billowed from its ramshackle chimney. At least someone was home, she thought.

Ana set a pointed gaze on him, observing him a moment longer, but he widened his smirk into a wolfish grin. "And you'll get inside before the snow is too deep?" She asked.

"Of course, ma'am," Finch replied, glancing at Nova, and winked, but Nova didn't smile. She stared at him, her focus on his face.

With a sigh, Ana slowly nodded before looking over Nova. "I need to get Nova home." She looked at Finch. "Don't stay out too late."

When he nodded, Ana turned to Nova to usher her forward, but Nova scrutinized Finch's hand. She narrowed her eyes at the fresh purple hue that outlined his fingers, but all too quickly, he stuffed them back into his pockets and rocked on his heels.

"Take care." He said, watching Ana practically drag Nova out of the clearing. Only when they were out of sight did he loose the breath he'd been holding. He withdrew his hand from his pocket and looked down at it, cringing as he tried to flex his stiff, swollen fingers.

The Inner Circle looked up from the table where they were having lunch, laughing and talking as Nova and Ana entered.

"How was the beach?" Feyre asked with a sparkling smile.

"You went to the beach?" Mor gasped. "You must be frozen!"

It was Azriel who picked up on Ana's vacant stare first. He frowned as he asked, "Are you okay?" He moved to stand up, but Ana waved her hand distractedly. "Is...everything okay?" Az asked again, observing her carefully. His gaze drifted to Nova, who also didn't smile.

Usually, Nova bursts into the room with a grin, ready to mingle with the table. Something was definitely wrong, Rhys thinks as he leaned forward.

"I just have this terrible feeling..." Ana trailed off and glanced at Nova, who glared at the polished wood of the table before them, not moving to empty her pockets or take any of her winter clothing off. "You know the boy from the city, Finch?"

Cassian wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, we know Finch."

Frowning, Ana shook her head. "I don't think he's okay..."

The sneering expression faded from Cassian's features. "What do you mean?"

"We saw him in the forest just now," Ana started, shedding her coat, which Az took without hesitation, listening intently, "He has this little camp set up near where he says his home is. He says everything is alright, of course, but..." She shook her head. "I don't think he is."

Nova frowned and said, "Finch got hurt."

Ana glanced at her and nodded, "Yes, that's right. He had bruises on his eye."

"His hand," Nova said, holding up her mitten, "Purple."

"His hand was purple?" Ana asked how she had missed that.

Nova nodded in response.

"Az," Feyre addressed him with a frown, "Can you check on him?"

Without a word, Azriel stood quickly vacated the townhouse, swirls of shadows edging the tips of his wings. Watching him go, Ana took the seat he left behind, unable to put the thought of Finch shivering out in the snow from her mind.

Mor tried to get Nova to talk about her morning, but she continued glancing at the door. Finch's purple fingers and yellow bruises continued taking over her thoughts until Rhys finally helped remove the jacket.

"Let's go change your bandages." He said gently, having to use a bit of extra force to move Nova toward the bathroom.

Not much time had passed before Azriel returned, shaking the snow off his wings before entering. Nova had returned to the table with Rhys, but hadn't touched any of the blackberries on her plate as she looked up at Azriel expectantly.

"And?" Amren asked with narrowed eyes.

Azriel shook his head, "No one was there when I arrived, but the fire pit was still warm. I'll check again tonight to see where he's been sleeping."

A twinge of relief settled in Ana's chest as she nodded. Looking over at Nova, she saw the same weight in her eyes she felt in her soul. She just hoped her intuition was wrong.

Later that evening, Nova sat in front of the fireplace with Potato, casually stroking her back as her memory flitted back to Finch. She had the same feeling as she did when Devlon was hurting Bran. It was something she couldn't describe, but it was powerful.

"You're a good friend, Nova," Rhys said gently as he sat beside her on the rug. "I know you want to make sure Finch is okay, but Uncle Az and Cas are going to take care of it, okay? He'll be alright."

Nova looked up at him, worry creasing her brow. "Finch...is safe?" She asked, her eyes searching his.

Nodding, Rhys leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "We'll make sure he is. Try to get some sleep- you had a busy day."

The idea of sleep waned on Nova, and she shook her head.

"So stubborn." Rhysand smiled fondly.

Instead of trying to make Nova go to bed, Feyre approached, holding a chessboard, and laughed lightly. "Now that we have all the pieces again, we can play." Nova, leaning against the brick, watched her parents move their pawns across the board. Her eyes steadily grew heavier as time passed, but Nova fought against sleep by continuously glancing out the door where Az Ana had exited.

Az would walk Ana home and then make his way to the campsite. Rhys was sure they were there by now. Rhys thought, reaching out to him, If he's living outside, bring him back here.

Perched high in one of the trees above the campsite, Azriel felt Rhys's dark stroke against his mind and nodded. The cold night was quiet, with the freshly fallen snow dampening the noise of evening wildlife around him. All was silent until a voice cut through the dark.

"Finch?" Peter called, peering around the clearing as he lugged something behind him. Narrowing his eyes, Azriel stared at the burlap sack, then swiveled his head to the left at the sound of another familiar voice.

Finch shivered as he lugged through the snow. His ears and cheeks were bitten with cold as he approached. "Sh," he whispered, "Keep your voice down..." Finch turned to look at the shack, waiting to see if the door would slam open. When it didn't, he sighed a visible puff of relief.

Kneeling in the snow, Finch started trying to light up a fire in the pit, but using one hand wasn't working as efficiently as he'd have liked. "Give me a hand," he said quietly, "I can't get the damn thing to light."

"Yeah," Peter frowned, "Because he broke your hand..."

Finch flashed a glare at him but said nothing as Peter set the sack next to him.

"I can't keep taking from the bakery. My mother's going to ask questions sooner or later."

Shrugging, Finch smirked. "Hopefully it's later, then."

"Is everything a joke to you?"

"Kind of." Finch grinned and pushed Peter's shoulder. "Lighten up and help me."

With a resigned sigh, Peter kneeled forward and helped light the fire into a smokey ember that caught a few seconds later. He leaned back again and shoved his frozen fingers into his pockets. "Are you sure you're okay out here?"

"It's much better out here than in there," Finch nodded to the shack where the light inside turned on, "Believe me."

"I do." Peter frowned, watching the fire cast shadows across his sharp features. "I just think-"

Finch shook his head. "Don't even finish that sentence. I'm fine. I don't need help."

"You don't even have a house, Finch."

With a disgustedly surprised expression, Finch gestured to the little shelter behind him with his good hand. "Uhm, what do you call that?"

Peter looked at the tent of wood covered in tattered fabric. "Kindling."

Rolling his eyes, Finch stoked the fire with a charred stick to bring out a bigger flame. "Ha ha. Baker boy has jokes. Just go if you're going to be a pest."

"I'm not going anywhere." Peter frowned.

As Finch opened his mouth to retort something, the door to the shack slammed open. A massive brute of a man stepped out into the snow. While he was tall and broad, his body was slow to move.

Azriel, still in the tree, narrowed his gaze on the man.

"Get over here!" Finch's father growled.

Clenching his jaw, Finch snarled at Peter with ferocity. "Go. Now. I'm serious."

"Don't make me come over there!"

"I'm coming!" Finch bit back as he stood to his feet. He kicked snow over the fire, unsure when to return to it before starting the walk to the shack. He was far away, and the trees were dense enough that while his father couldn't see him, he could see his father perfectly.

The oaf had a literal glass tankard ale in his hand as he scratched at his hairy chest. "I told you to get the wood chopped and put inside." He snarled, curling his lip.

"I did," Finch said, stopping ten yards from where he stood.

"Excuse me?" He asked, taking a step forward, which made Finch automatically step back. His father barked an obnoxious laugh. "Still a little pussy? Even living out here, how's that working out for you? Realizing everything I do for your sorry ass?"

Finch kept his jaw clenched, eyes on the ground. Willing the earth to swallow him up. He heard snow crunching before he felt large hands grab him by his shoulder and yank him forward.

"You don't think you have to answer to me, boy?" He growled, shaking Finch so violently his head thrashed back with a crack that shivered down his vertebra.

Azriel dropped to the ground of the campsite, ignoring Peter's surprise as dark, twisted shadows weaved around his wings and shoulders. His glare, cold as death, settled on Finch's father.

"Get off me!" Finch shoved, but the next moment, a splash of something foul drenched his head, soaking his hair. He sucked in a sharp breath as the ale he'd been holding dripped down the back of his shirt.

"Think you're a man now?" He asked, wrapping his thick fingers around his throat before dragging him toward the shack, starting to remove his belt from around his waist. "We'll see about that." Shoving him against the shack's door, Finch's father wrapped the leather around his fist before swinging the metal buckle across his face.

Ducking down, Finch held the side of his face as he stared at the blood that sprayed across the white snow. Thunder pounded in his ears as he waited for the next crucial blow, pinching his eyes closed in anticipation.

It never came.

Finch lifted his gaze slowly, and in his father's place stood an Illyrian Warrior.

Looking down, Finch stared at the sight of his father lying face down in the snow at Azriel's feet. He watched his back move up and down.

His father was still alive...dammit.

"Let's go," Azriel spoke in a low, dangerous voice, but before walking, he called through the trees. "You, too. Let's go!"

By the time Finch and Peter followed the Shadowsinger into the townhouse, they were both shuddering from the deep cold. The wind had picked up, stinging their faces until they felt the relief of warmth. Though, it brought an almost uncomfortable burn against the side of Finch's face.

Nova looked up from the chess game, eyes wide at the sight of Peter and...Finch. Finch had a nasty gash across his left cheek, where deep blue and purple bruises were already forming around the wound. She gasped and stood, racing over before anyone could stop her.

Startled, Finch stepped backward, ruffling the snow off his wings.

"Nova," Azriel spoke gently, "Finch needs some space."

Feyre, Rhys, and Cas quickly approached with set frowns in place.

"Come on," Feyre beckoned, "Both of you. Sit." Blankets magically appeared over their shoulders as they sat down at the table. She didn't stop Nova from lightly patting their backs as she turned to Azriel, who explained the events that unfolded in the last hour.

Finch, whose teeth still chattered, stared down at the table. The jabbing pain inside his skull was enough to keep his focus blurry...or was that his vision? Now that the numbing cold wasn't ever present on his skin, he could feel the throb of his jaw in time with his heartbeat.

A moment later, Finch slowly lifted his head to look at Rhysand, who sat across from him. They didn't speak long before Rhys asked, "Nova mentioned your hand is hurt. Show me."

Finch didn't move, frozen in place with the intense knowledge that he was in the High Lord's house. It didn't matter how long he waited because Rhysand was unrelenting. He stared at him with patient, violet eyes. Giving into the stalemate, Finch brought his injured hand from his pocket and set it on the table. His fingers were warped and swollen as an angry shade of dark magenta. His fingernails were nearly black.

"Your father did that?" Rhysand asked, his voice steady, though subdued anger laced his tongue. Though he wanted to, he didn't spare a glance at Azriel. He already knew the thoughts behind his eyes.

When Finch didn't respond, Peter did.

"Yes, he did." Finch cast a deadly glare at him, so cold it was a wonder it didn't freeze his soul.

Peter swallowed harshly, ignoring the look of wrath on his friend's face. "He hit it with the blunt side of an axe."

Cringing, Feyre steeled herself before sitting next to Rhys, but before she could say anything, Finch bitterly bit out, "I can take care of myself."

Silence fell as Rhysand slowly nodded. "I see you have for quite some time," he frowned, "and I'm deeply sorry for that."

"Your mother..." Feyre started.

"She died in the attack."

Feyre gave a slow nod and pursed her lips. "We'll talk more about it in the morning," she said, leaving no room for argument. "For now, you're getting cleaned up and getting some rest." She turned her gaze on Peter. "Does your mother know where you are?"

"Uhm..." Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "She thinks I'm staying with Cyrus tonight." Her disappointment was enough to make Peter shrink a little in his chair.

"Come on," Cas lightly clapped Finch on the shoulder, "Believe it or not, I have experience with getting hit in the face."

Nova frowned, trying to catch Finch's eye, but he wouldn't look at her as he left with Cas to get his injury sorted.

"Nova," Rhys said gently, "Let's set the sitting up for guests, hm?"

Nodding, she walked with Rhys to the couches, where they worked together to create two comfortable sleeping spaces. Nova patted the pillow with an extra tap to ensure it was fluffy just as Peter and Finch approached.

Finch sported a wrapped hand in the same material as Nova's. With the blood cleaned off his face, the deep bruising was easier to see, making Nova frown. She patted his arm lightly, but Finch pulled away with a scowl.

"I'm fine."

But Nova stepped forward and pointed a finger in his face. "I help you." The fire in her eyes burned with dark intensity, sending whatever Finch was about to say back down his gullet. She pointed at the couch near the window.

Glancing over at Peter, who grinned as he settled into his own sleeping space, he shrugged. "I'd do what she says."

"Wise words." Cas chuckled from the table, sitting with Feyre to discuss tomorrow's events.

Clenching and unclenching his jaw, Finch slowly sank into the couch. He fought back to the need to recoil at the brush of the fabric against his tender jaw. As he settled, he frowned at Nova with wide eyes as she lightly petted his head as if he were a dog. And though it felt slightly degrading, it also felt...nice.

"Don't worry, Nova," Peter smiled as the lights turned off above them, "He's just not used to anyone being nice to him."

Finch growled at him. "I'm gonna kick your teeth in."

"Be nice." Nova scolded them both before scooping Potato into her arms and gently laying her on Finch's stomach. He was about to argue, but the little furball was already curling up into a ball and closing its eyes.

Azriel settled in a chair, propping his feet on the coffee table to get comfortable. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. "Rest, now."

Blinking his tired eyes, Finch tried to ignore Nova as she laid herself down on the floor below his sleeping spot. Glancing at Peter, he frowned to see he was asleep and lightly snoring.

"Is okay," Nova said softly in the dark, stroking his arm, "Is safe here."

Warmth Finch hadn't felt in weeks seeped into his bones. He'd spent so much time half-frozen outside he'd forgotten what it felt like to be completely warm. Despite fighting the urge to sleep in a new and unknown setting, the combination of warmth and Nova's gentle strokes against his forearm was enough to pull him under.

"What are you thinking?" Feyre asked Azriel as she settled into the chair next to him. The three teenagers were fast asleep, and she couldn't help but smile in spite of the circumstances. At least she knew they were all safe.

Turning his head and opening one eye, Azriel gently curved his lips into a smile. He stared at Finch for a long moment, noticing the resilience and deeply rooted fear underneath—an outcast with a bitter view of the world.

Azriel couldn't help it; staring at Finch, he saw a younger version of himself. "I think, under Ansel's leadership, Finch will fit right in at Windhaven."