Briar stayed in her room, curtains drawn against the weak autumn light. She couldn't bear to look outside, couldn't stand the thought of seeing those golden leaves drifting past her window when she could still feel Malus's hands on her skin.
The bite on her neck throbbed constantly, a dull ache that spiked whenever she moved wrong. She'd looked at it once, in the mirror, and immediately wished she hadn't. The wound was a vivid reminder of everything that had happened at the feast, of his teeth sinking into her flesh while the court watched and applauded.
She stopped looking in mirrors after that.
Food appeared on trays outside her door. She forced herself to eat a few bites here and there, enough to keep functioning, but everything tasted like ash. Her body felt foreign, like something that belonged to someone else. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the faces of the court watching her, heard the echo of their applause, felt the phantom pressure of Malus's fingers between her thighs.
And Liefand's screams. Those woke her in the night, gasping and drenched in sweat, certain she could smell the rot of his eyes.
She didn't leave the room. Couldn't. The thought of walking those corridors, of seeing any of the fae who had watched her degradation, made her chest seize with panic. So she stayed in bed, or curled in the chair by the cold fireplace, or paced the same ten feet of floor until her legs ached.
The vial of bloodshade was hidden in her vanity, untouched. A reminder of her failure.
On the second day—or was it the third? She'd lost track—a soft knock came at the door.
Briar froze, her heart immediately racing. She hadn't heard footsteps in the corridor, hadn't had any warning. Was it him? Had he come to—
"It's Síocháin."
The breath left her in a rush. She crossed to the door on unsteady legs and opened it just enough to let the older fae slip inside.
Síocháin took one look at her and her expression tightened with something that might have been grief. "Oh, child."
"I'm fine," Briar said automatically.
"You're not." Síocháin guided her to sit on the edge of the bed, then settled beside her. "I heard what happened at the feast. What he did to you. What he did to Lord Liefand."
Briar's hands began to shake. She pressed them flat against her thighs, willing them to stop. "It doesn't matter. I need to try again."
"Briar—"
"I have to." Her voice cracked. "I can't let it be for nothing. Everything he did, everything I let him do… if I give up now, it was all just... suffering. Pointless suffering."
Síocháin was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was gentle. "There may be other ways. We could try to get word to the Star Court. Or I could attempt to free Lord Eliam myself, create a distraction while you—"
"No." Briar shook her head. "He'd kill you. You saw what he did to Liefand for touching my knee. What do you think he'd do to you for freeing his brother and helping me?"
"I'm old. I've lived long enough."
"No," Briar repeated, firmer this time. "The plan stays the same. We use the bloodshade. We just have to make sure it's actually private this time."
Síocháin studied her face for a long moment. Whatever she saw there made her sigh. "You're certain?"
"Yes." Briar reached out and gripped Síocháin's hand. "This is the only way." She swallowed hard. "It will work. It has to work."
"And if he decides to make it public again?"
The question made her stomach lurch, but she forced herself to answer. "Then I'll find a way to get through it and try again. As many times as it takes."
Síocháin squeezed her hand. "You're so much stronger than you know."
"I don't feel strong." The admission came out small, broken. "I feel like I'm barely holding myself together."
"That's what strength is, child. Holding together when everything is trying to tear you apart." Síocháin tucked a strand of hair behind Briar's ear. "I'll make sure the wine is ready. And this time, I'll find out where the dinner is being held before you arrive."
"Thank you." Briar's eyes burned with tears that she refused to let fall. "For everything. For risking yourself for me."
"I told you. Old debts." Síocháin rose, smoothing her skirts. "Rest while you can. Eat something. You'll need your strength."
