Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name

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Stella's voice was hoarse with disuse. She hadn't spoken to anyone much in weeks, just herself occasionally in the darkness of her room at night and a few words here and there to appease her father—never a conversation. It wasn't as if anyone was around to care what she had to say. Even when they were, she had learned to just keep her mouth shut—it wasn't worth it.

A lonely aching part of her soul wanted to run, to escape from this mountain hell and disappear but Stella had nowhere to go. Even if she picked a direction and just left there was nowhere she could run that they wouldn't find her. Them—or the High Lord.

She curled her arms around herself, shivering as she looked up at the dark ceiling. It was suffocating—her room, her life. More and more she felt like she was becoming an empty husk. Soon there would be nothing left of her.

Slowly she closed her eyes, turning onto her side. Sleep wasn't coming but she could rest her eyes, just a little before she had to get up and force her body through the motions. She bit back the burning sensation behind her eyelids, forcing a deep breath out of her lungs.

She couldn't tell herself it would be ok, but she'd survive. She'd get by—she always did. Maybe one day she'd find a way out, but until then she'd play their game.

Dawn began to break (not that she knew from anything other than the clock on her bedside table) and Stella forced herself up and into the attached bathroom. She had her own now that her sister wasn't around—a small blessing. Faelights bobbed as she washed up and Stella found herself shivering as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Dark circles had made a home under her eyes and her face looked even paler than usual.

Her accelerated healing (and access to some of the best healers around) meant years of training bore her no scars, but Stella was still disfigured in the eyes of her people. In her eyes, to be precise.

When Stella had been born, it was with a whimper. She'd gotten stuck in the birth canal and the start of her life, became the end of her mother's. Her father couldn't bare to look at her—letting the healer take her and hand her off to the household maid while he grieved his wife. It was weeks before he even deigned to pick her up. When he did, he had taken one look at her and immediately tossed her back into the maid's arms.

She had arrived in the world with two bright blue eyes, much like her mother's. Shortly after her birth however, an unruly splotch of dark brown had taken over her right eye, leaving her marred, forever marked as different—no better than a lesser faerie in her father's eyes and some of her people's too.

From that moment on, her value to them had plummeted, not that females were assigned much value to begin with. Her father already resented her for (as he saw it) the way she'd killed his wife, and now shame had joined that resentment. It wasn't as if Stella would ever have been particularly important to him—he already had his perfect princess—her older sister Clara—but now she was seen as lower than the dirt on his shoe. It was almost as if a single splotch of pigment had given him permission to hate her.

The other residents in the city weren't outright cruel to her—she still held some status, given her father's position—but she could tell they thought themselves above her. Most didn't want to associate with her—not that she had time for friends anyway.

The maid had raised her. For years and years, Moira had taken care of her. Moira had been the one to give Stella her name. She taught her to read and write, she taught her addition, how to take care of herself—the things she needed to get by. Unfortunately, that wasn't all Stella had to learn.

When she was around five her father had decided to find use for her. Although she shared similar facial features with her beautiful older sister, he claimed no one would ever want her for a marriage alliance (a fact she doubted, not that she would argue), so he needed to make use of her in other ways. He trained her—brutally.

No five year old should learn how to wield daggers and swords, too big for their hands to truly hold onto. No ten year old should be taught the art of subterfuge, of espionage and assassination and no sixteen year old should be forced to learn the art of seduction.

What all of this meant was that by the time she passed her twenty fourth summer, Stella wasn't just any twenty four year old female. She was more and less at the same time—a heart of steel and sharp edges, a tool for the most powerful among them—a weapon wielded by those she hated the most. And all the more miserable for it.

Stella ducked her head under the sink, splashing cold water onto her face. She brushed her thoughts away, raising an imaginary armour around her heart, trying to fortify herself against the world.

"You've got this." She muttered quietly, her throat still scratchy. "Just keep moving." What she was moving toward, she didn't know, but she had no choice but to keep going. She couldn't stop.

Quickly and efficiently, she tied her light blonde hair into a tight bun, no strands falling across her face. It was the single form of rebellion she allowed herself—that she could get away with really—putting her eyes on full display under the guise of keeping her hair out of the way during combat.

Her father was at the breakfast table when she emerged and Stella grit her teeth, holding in a sigh. It seemed like he was going to accompany her to the training rooms; how unfortunate. The days he dogged her every step were the worst, it meant she never got a single seconds reprieve.

"You have a new mission." Her father said blandly, not even bothering to glance up from his food.

"Of course, father." She confirmed out loud, knowing from experience that if she only nodded it would not end well for her.

"Keir will brief you after your training." Sparring was more what it was at this point, really. No one had taught her anything in years. If Stella wanted to improve she had to do it through painful experience, getting it wrong over and over before finally she managed to turn the tables on whichever male was attacking her.

Stella could hold her own of course, all she'd been doing was training and missions for almost her entire life—but that didn't mean she was significantly better than males tens, hundreds of times her age. She still got her ass kicked sometimes.

A maid placed a plate down in front of her and Stella smiled briefly in thanks, the expression disappearing the minute the maid turned her back. She ate quickly, not wanting to delay her father leaving by even a minute for she knew how that would end too.

Double checking her weapons were all on her, Stella quickly stood the minute her father did, her remaining eggs forgotten as she darted over to the door to slip on her boots. She followed him in silence as they left the hall.

The Hewn City was enormous considering it was all contained within a mountain, but Stella never really needed to go far. Her father was second in command of the Darkbringer legion so their family's quarters were suitably close to the training rooms.

A few hallways later and Stella slipped in silently behind him, taking her place along the wall as her father demanded the attention of every male present. They were all males—every single warrior in the legion except for her. They were all older than her too. She had become the youngest ever warrior in the legion at sixteen and honestly, she wasn't sure if it was because she could be considered ready or if her father just didn't care for her life. Probably the latter.

The males all stood at attention and she waited for him to choose one of them, knowing already how this was going to go. Once the chosen member among them stepped forward, her father merely turned his head to the side, sending her a single glance. Obediently Stella stepped forward, cracking her knuckles.

The male rushed at her, faking a punch to the left before sweeping his leg out to try and catch her unawares. Stella merely jumped over it, a fist meeting the male's face before her feet even hit the ground again. They exchanged blows for a minute or so before Stella managed to get the upper hand, her arm wrapped around the male's neck from behind. She choked him with suffocating force, not letting up until he slapped his palm against her arm repeatedly, conceding defeat.

She barely had a second to breathe before another male was kicking out at her, sent her way by her father who was watching; stone-faced. No doubt she hadn't taken the first male out quickly enough for his liking. Nothing was ever good enough for him. Stella circled her new opponent cautiously, trying to watch his body language and keep an eye on his footwork at the same time.

She dodged his attacks as best she could, taking a fist to the face once and a kick to the stomach before she managed to find an opening to take him down. And so it went—on and on for hours. She wasn't allowed to stop for anything—not a breath, not water. By the time she'd defeated each warrior present in the training room she was panting, completely exhausted. Anyone else would be bent over with their hands on their knees but Stella knew better than to show weakness so blatantly.

"You've been slacking."

She murmured an apology, not daring to meet her father's eyes. She had taken out each Darkbringer as fast as she possibly could, but it still wasn't good enough because nothing ever was. Stella hadn't been slacking, she trained hard every day. Her father was a hypocrite. He might work out, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him spar without blades. His hand to hand was surely so rusty that the next conflict would be his undoing. One could only hope.

"Come." He waved at her impatiently. "Keir's waiting."

This was why she hated it when he followed her to training. Surely she could have stopped for a glass of water? Now she'd have to go without for however long this meeting would take. She'd be lucky if she didn't pass out.

Stella turned her head from side to side and cracked her neck, pretending not to notice her father's look of distaste. He led the way back through the Hewn City and up stair after stair, never once slowing his pace until they reached the entry to the Moonstone Palace that sat atop the mountain. She'd been in there a handful of times in her life, but only to receive the most clandestine of missions; those they couldn't afford for even the other Darkbringers to overhear.

"Enter." The steward's voice called out and Stella steeled herself, trying not to flinch. If there was one person she hated just as much as her father, it was Keir. He was a disgusting piece of filth and if she ever got the chance, she would love to do away with him. Sadly, she didn't think that would be a possibility anytime soon—or even in her lifetime.

"Ah, Aeron, finally." Her father's back straightened at the slight reprimand, even as Keir's tone remained congenial.

"My apologies. It took Stella longer than was necessary to complete her training."

Stella bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't frown, not a hint of emotion crossing her face. She remained stoic the way she'd trained herself to; keeping her head down.

"That doesn't bode well then." Keir commented and the hair on the back of her neck rose.

Great. What did they want now? Stella was convinced that she received the most difficult assignments from both of them because she was expendable. Her father expected the best from her and she always had to exceed his expectations lest she be punished, but Stella swore every time she came back alive from one of these clandestine missions he seemed a little disappointed.

Her father sent her a dark glare over his shoulder so Stella attempted to clear her dry throat, her voice coming out raspy. "What did you need from me, sir?" She kept her hands clasped behind her and her shoulders back, even as her head dipped in deference.

"Ah, Stella. Not to worry," Keir laughed. "I'm sure there's a way you can manage this assignment without too much fighting."

Her stomach dropped. She knew what that meant.

"You're going to assassinate a male residing in Velaris." Keir stepped toward her, her father moving to the side. He placed a finger under her chin to tilt her head up, meeting her mismatched eyes. She could see the revulsion in his own. "That won't be a problem, will it?"

Stella merely shook her head. "No, sir." There was no other answer she could give.

"Good." Keir stepped back as if he hadn't just tasked her to sell her body and soul all at once. "You leave today." She only nodded her head, awaiting further orders. He seemed to find her obedience amusing as he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there.

"The target, sir?" She dared to enquire, her voice cracking as she spoke up.

He chuckled. "Caden Archeron."

Stella tensed, her back going ramrod straight as she fought to keep the dismay off her face. Surely he was joking? She bit her tongue before she could do anything stupid like protest.

"It shouldn't be too much trouble for you," Keir continued. "As unsavoury as it is to lay with beasts, I'm sure he won't need too much convincing." She felt her skin crawl as Keir's eyes trailed over her body. Stella only nodded, her jaw rigid as she fought to keep from shivering.

"How's your other daughter, Aeron?" The steward changed the subject, leading her father over to a small table set up on the deck.

"Well, of course." Aeron nodded. "Her marriage has been most advantageous to us, has it not?" Stella's older sister Clara had married a noble from the Autumn Court, her union creating a trade link Keir had been coveting for centuries now. Stella's sister was beautiful...on the outside. Like Stella, she was a tool for the advancement of their father's goals—the difference was, she relished in it. No one ever treated Clara the way Stella was treated. Clara was treated like a queen.

Stella however, was only ever looked at as the tool she was. Why should anyone show her any real respect? Any true kindness? She was lesser than everyone in the Hewn City—the evidence was on her face. Her only use was her body in whatever aspect got the job done. She had been sixteen the first time Keir requested Aeron have her seduce a target for information. Her father hadn't argued.

The two males began discussing business as food appeared on the table for them—them, not Stella. She had to watch them eat and laugh, her body aching from the beating she'd taken and the lack of sustenance. She stood with her shoulders back the entire time, gazing out at the mountaintops. She wished she could get closer—wait on the balcony where she could feel the breeze—but she didn't dare.

While she waited, she contemplated the impossible task they'd set in front of her. Caden Archeron was the son of the General of the Illyrian Forces and the Valkyrie Commander. He was a skilled warrior twice her age, trained by the best of the best. How could she ever hope to take him out? It was an impossible task, she realised. A death sentence. Even if she managed to kill the Illyrian, vengeance from his extended family would be swift. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

If she didn't try though...it wouldn't matter anyway. There would be no place she could run that her father, that Keir wouldn't find her. And if they didn't feel like doing the dirty work themselves, they would simply expose her lengthy list of misdeeds to the High Lord and the shadowsinger would track her down. To run, she would have to cross the sea to the continent and even then...Stella closed her eyes for a moment. Her hands shook where they were clasped together behind her back.

For a moment she allowed herself to imagine it. To wonder what might become of her if she tried, what it might take to be successful. She crushed the thought and buried it. There would be no escape for her.

When the meeting finished, she left the Moonstone Palace in a daze, following her father back to their quarters. She immediately made her way to her room to prepare, knowing it was what was expected of her. Stella had been to Velaris many times before. Mostly on various assignments. She had an apartment down there she rented, paid for by her father in advance. It was a part of her permanent cover—a Spring Court faerie who had moved to the Night Court for a new start.

It didn't mean she was welcomed by any means, but it was better to be a foreigner in Velaris than to be from the Hewn City. Luckily her colouring meant she was easily believed. Stella had only stayed in the apartment a handful of times, unfortunately, as she was expected to return home as soon as a job was done. It was a shame because she loved being out of the mountain; however it was also a blessing because she thought experiencing any extended period of freedom might just break her.

"Get the job done." Her father spoke from the doorway, his tone warning. She hadn't even heard him approach. She only nodded, moving over to her wardrobe to search for suitable attire. She found a flowing dress, the material a dark blue silk. It was revealing enough for a party—though not a Hewn City one—and would work with her boots which she would need to hide her dagger in.

There were many ways to kill people, Stella had discovered over the years, but on such short notice, the easiest way for her to accomplish it was a classic—slit his throat. She ignored her father, taking her clothes to the bathroom so she could bathe and change into the more appropriate garment.

She let her hair fall loosely around her face, knowing it made her look more docile and approachable. She also lined her eyes with a little kohl. Who knew where she would find the male—her appearance needed to be appropriate for anything.

She had lingerie underneath the blue dress, the kind of revealing underwear that could loosen a male's tongue—she knew from experience. She tried to put herself in the right frame of mind for a seduction mission and kept failing. She hated this.

Slowly she pulled on her boots, making sure they shined. Nothing she had on looked well-worn. It was late in the afternoon by the time she was done and she bid her father farewell with a simple nod, winnowing from her room in the city to her apartment in Velaris. What little wards the City of Starlight had left, accepted her easily; Stella having been down there many times before.

Almost immediately she took out her small coin purse and headed for the door, making her way out onto the street. The apartment was a cheaper one, down by the port but that didn't bother Stella in the slightest. She enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the area and she took a deep breath as she moved through it now, striding quickly toward her favourite seafood shop.

She smiled in greeting to the high fae running it. He remembered her, nodding without returning her smile. He gestured to the food with his hand, not bothering to ask aloud what she wanted. Stella told him what she would like, hesitating when the price was markedly higher than she remembered it being two months ago.

Begrudingly, she paid it, knowing she couldn't afford to draw any attention to herself. Any more than her appearance already did apparently. She could never tell how they knew she was an outsider. Sure she was blonde and that wasn't as common in Velaris, but other residents in the city did have blonde hair. How did they always seem to know she wasn't from here? That this wasn't home?

It grated on her.

This wasn't home because no one would let her make it so—it seemed unfair that they would judge her for it as if they weren't the cause. Annoyed, Stella made her way back to the little apartment, scarfing down the food as she went. She had been starving. She made sure to drink her fill as well before she even contemplated going out to search for the Lord of Bloodshed's son.

Where did she even begin her impossible task? Keir had implied that the male was easily coerced into bed or that he had a multitude of partners. Judging by that, she supposed a bar or a club would be the best place to look, so Stella laid on the bed in her humble abode, waiting for the sun to set.

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As it turned out, it only took the blonde a couple of hours to locate him. The Illyrian was at a bar on the south side of the Sidra, drinking and dancing with a variety of different people—some of them also Illyrian. It made them easier to spot at least. She was leaning against a wall trying to remain unobtrusive as she studied him. He was exactly as she remembered. She'd only seen him once—years ago when he'd come to the Court of Nightmares with his family. She was probably only around fourteen years old at the time, so even if he'd seen her, there's no way he would recognise her now. He hadn't changed a bit.

His silky hair was artfully tousled, a few strands framing his face. He still had full, pink lips and sharp cheekbones. And the muscle. Wow. There was little chance she was ever beating him in a fair hand to hand fight so she hoped tonight would go off without a hitch—otherwise Stella was about to be very, very dead. He reminded her a lot of his father.

She eyed him curiously, her gaze drifting to the large dark wings rising above his head at their highest point. Something ingrained in her shuddered. It was stupid of her to consider the Illyrians beasts. To buy into her people's view of anyone with deformities like that as lesser—considering what they thought of her—but it was an idea she'd been exposed to since she was a child and she couldn't help but feel a small amount of disgust coil in her gut. If he didn't have those wings, he'd be the perfect male specimen. Beautiful.

It was only once she moved her eyes from his talons back to his face that she realised while she'd been studying him, he'd been studying her. Stella's eyes widened in alarm as she met his gaze, a small smirk curling up at the edge of his mouth. He began to cross the room toward her and she took a deep breath trying to calm herself. This is what you wanted. Stick to the plan.

She let her hair fall across her face, attempting to look shy as he stepped up to her, tilting his head to the side. "I don't think I've seen you around before." It was a leading statement.

Stella bit her lip. "I'm not from here." He would surely have already figured that out, just like everyone else did at first sight. Whatever glowing sign she had above her head that said 'doesn't fit in' would have taken care of that.

"What's your name?" He asked and she finally met his eyes again.

"Ella." She said quietly, leaving off a couple of letters. She'd learned over the years it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible.

His hand came up to brush her hair behind her ear, revealing more of her face to him. "Ella." He repeated softly, lips quirking up into a proper smile. "I'm Caden."

She let a smile tug at the edge of her own lips and looked down as if abashed. "I know."

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Stella blinked. That was...forward. Maybe the rumours were true. Her brain stalled for a moment and she tried to figure out how to respond—how Ella would respond. "I—" She stuttered, trying desperately to come up with something. "Sure." She said lamely, hoping it didn't seem too eager. There was a delicate balance to be struck with males and it wouldn't do for him to lose interest or go unsatisfied. The easiest time to strike was always when they lay sated, dazed in the aftermath of their own pleasure.

He took her hand, pulling her gently toward the door. She followed him out of the bar and onto the street. "Come on," He led her forward. "I know a place." So they weren't going back to his bedroom then?

He left their hands tangled together as he led them down the street, the Sidra looking icy in the winter chill beside them. Stella was honestly a little relieved to be away from all the people and the noise of the bar that made her head ache behind her eyes. She couldn't help but continue sneaking glances at his wings, the leather-like appendages looming large in the corner of her eye.

"You've never met an Illyrian before?" It was part question, part statement and Stella blushed a little for real at the fact that he'd caught her staring. She knew better than that, even if in this instance it suited her purposes.

"No." She shook her head, turning herself fully toward him. "Are they heavy?" It was something she'd always wondered.

"They are." He smiled a little. "But I'm very used to it." She bet he was. He was twice her age—he'd been carrying that weight around for over forty years already. "Where are you from?" He asked her and she turned back to face the path.

"Spring, originally." She answered quietly, feeling his gaze on her. "But now...I don't know." She tilted her head to look up at the stars. While Stella hated having to complete pretty much any mission Keir or her father tossed her way, this part of it she loved. Being outside in the fresh air, under the open sky.

"You don't have anyone?" Caden's voice softened and Stella stiffened. No. She didn't.

"I don't need anyone." A little of her regular personality shone through, her lip curling over her teeth. She hid the sneer behind her hair, not meeting his eyes. He led her through a crowd of people, tugging her closer as they twined through the throngs of high and lesser fae alike. He took the opportunity to slide his arm around her waist, pulling her to him, and Stella rolled her eyes. Smooth.

When they emerged onto a quieter pathway he left his arm there, his fingers caressing her side gently. "You know," He looked her up and down, checking her out blatantly, "you don't look like an Ella."

She snorted. "And you don't look like much at all." She got more comfortable in his presence, realising she could be more like her real self than she'd initially thought. She was getting a read on him now and figured a little fire would pique his interest. She might be just his type.

"Sweetheart," He grinned, "you've never met a male like me."

She scoffed. Perhaps she hadn't, but that was entirely by design.

He led her to a place she actually recognised. She had been here before briefly, though never at night. She'd had a job to complete once and the Palace of Hoof and Leaf had been the perfect trap. The market square was always teeming with food vendors, providing both cooked foods and raw items. There were spices, confections, livestock—anything you could think of—but where Caden was taking them was a small array of stalls selling prepared meals.

Her mouth watered as she took in the smells. The seafood she'd eaten earlier hadn't been enough to sate her after such a long day of training and no other sustenance. Her body was a weapon she honed religiously, but it couldn't operate without the correct nutrients and she had already been finding herself tired—not the best situation to be in when trying to commit assassination, especially against a warrior of Caden's presumed calibre.

"Do you have a preference?" He asked her, smiling slightly. Stella only shook her head, watching curiously as he stepped forward to greet a plethora of different people. It seemed like he knew everyone—from the fae running the different stalls to the people sitting around eating. She felt strangely bereft standing there without his arm around her but put it down to the awkwardness of apparently being the only stranger there.

Caden stepped away from one of the colourful stalls with a tray holding two plates and two glasses. He tilted his head toward an open table and she followed obediently. When she sat down and he pushed a plate toward her she breathed in, her stomach grumbling at the spicy scent of the noodle dish in front of her.

"I hope you can handle heat." He said playfully and Stella's eyes narrowed.

"You have no idea what I can handle." She held his gaze, twirling noodles around her fork. He held her stare and she saw desire in his gaze. Pretending to be unbothered was something she was used to, so Stella only looked back down to her plate, taking in a mouthful of food nonchalantly.

She took a sip of her drink, head tilting in curiosity at the funny flavour. She could taste the alcohol in her glass but it wasn't a concoction she'd ever had before. It was fruity and bubbles fizzed on her tongue as she swallowed.

"It's a Night Court speciality." He informed her, watching her reaction.

"I like it." Stella admitted, gracing him with a small smile. She watched him eat, her eyes drawn to his hands. They were large, just like the rest of him, and strong—she had felt the callouses earlier that gave him away as a warrior, someone who regularly trained with weapons. Stella herself wore gloves most of the time in order to prevent such a feature giving her away. She watched his long fingers twirl around his fork and bit her lip.

She was despairing the fact that she'd not had any time to prepare for this mission. It would have been so easy for her to take him out otherwise. The last mission that had brought her here was particularly easy—she simply made sure she was the one to choose the food, slipping a tasteless, odourless poison into the male's dish before she turned to head back to their table. He'd died a few hours later in his bed when Stella was already long gone. Unfortunately it wasn't a poison she had on hand.

"So, Ella." He broke her from her reverie and she realised she was already half done with her meal, eating reflexively while her mind flew far away. "What made you come out tonight?"

Stella raised an eyebrow. She eyed him contemplatively, wondering if now was really the time to push it. He had been staring at her with desire earlier and his reputation supposedly preceded him (not that she would know if that were true).

"I needed to unwind." She said simply, downing the alcohol that remained in her glass. It wasn't enough to get her drunk thankfully, but she did feel ever so slightly relaxed from it.

His stare was unwavering, eyes never leaving her face. "And do you need help with that?" He was brazen.

She let her eyes trail over him, contemplating. "Do you think you have something to offer?" She taunted, kicking her legs out from the table. She stood up, placing her palms flat against the tabletop, staring down at him like he amused her.

He stood slowly, walking around the table until he was behind her. Stella fought not to flinch as he pressed against his body wholly against her, leaning around her to pick up her plate. "Why don't we find out?" His lips brushed her ear as he whispered and Stella fought the urge to kick her leg out behind her. She hated this—the part of seduction where she needed to leave herself vulnerable.

His lips dragged down her neck as he retreated, stepping back with her plate and picking up his own to return them to the stall they'd purchased from. He was almost...kind and his polite nature surprised her. What kind of male took a female out to dinner if they only planned on using them for sex? It was strange.

When he returned, she had straightened up, trying to shake off the feeling of him pressed against her. Everywhere he looked at her, fire trailed over her skin and Stella fought desperately against the way her body wanted to react. He arched a brow, holding a hand out to her patiently.

Stella took a deep breath. There was no ignoring it, no running home—not when she had a job to do. Slowly she placed her hand in his, his fingers tightening around hers as he pulled them into a winnow. The sudden lurch caught her off guard and she stumbled a little, catching herself against him as her feet hit a timber floor.

She almost tripped against a rug as he dragged her even closer to him, his arm twining around her waist. She looked around, taking in his bedroom. There wasn't much there—it almost looked a little un-lived in—no decor whatsoever. There was a dark timber armoire and two bedside tables (one with a clock on it) and in the middle of them; a bed at least twice the size of hers, silky black sheets bunched at the end of it.

His hands—those damn hands—trailed up her sides and Stella told herself to get her head in the game. She angled her head up a little, finding she was just short enough that her nose brushed his cheek. She pushed herself up on her toes, meeting his eyes. Slowly she leaned in, pressing her lips against his. He took the invitation and kissed her back hard, his tongue stroking along her lower lip.

Stella had been with a lot of males before, none of them with the heat that Caden emitted. The way he kissed her—held her—it was dangerous. He smelled like leather and rum and she found his scent almost intoxicating. He broke away from her mouth to trail his lips down her throat and Stella tipped her head back, a low moan escaping her. Instantly she clamped her lips shut, her heart racing.

Sure, she'd felt arousal before—it was a biological reaction. A lot of times when she'd been with a male, she'd felt something, regardless of the fact she had not chosen them for herself. But she hadn't felt fire racing through her veins and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Why now? Why him? He was handsome, that much was certain—definitely the most handsome male she'd ever been with—but that didn't mean she should allow herself to enjoy the way her body was reacting.

Gods, Stella. Pull yourself together. She kicked off her boots, making sure to leave them close by the bed, not wanting her hidden dagger to be too far out of reach. As his mouth wandered further south she pulled at his shirt, peeling it off almost methodically. His chest was covered with tattoos, the same swirling designs she knew covered most Illyrians. As she ran a hand over his muscles her heart hammered in her chest.

Slowly he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants, leaving himself completely bare before her. Stella swallowed harshly, her eyes inevitably darting downward. He was a god damned work of art and she felt her hands begin to shake. He didn't allow her a moments reprieve, stepping forward to slide her dress off her shoulders; his own hands sure and steady.

Normally by this point Stella would have a plan in motion—a step by step series of actions in her head that she would work through, taking control of the situation to please the male; leaving him tired and vulnerable. Tonight, Stella's mind was impossibly blank.

Her dress fell to the floor and Caden ran his hands along her shoulders, squeezing softly at her tense muscles. She held in her wince as his fingers moved over her pressure points, hating the way that vulnerability made her feel. His hands slid down to cup her breasts through her lingerie, calloused fingers sliding softly over her skin.

He unhooked her bra and as it fell to the floor Stella took the initiative to remove her own underwear almost mechanically. She rose back up onto her toes, slamming her mouth against his. He sucked on her lower lip, pulling it into his mouth as his fingers roamed over her skin, brushing her nipples. His hands moved lower to grasp her hips, pulling her body against him tightly.

Stella gasped, arching into him reflexively as she felt his hard length against her. Her hands were cupping his face, pulling him down toward her, but she abruptly let one of them drop, palming his cock where it strained against her hip. He groaned into her mouth, turning to push her down onto the bed. When her head hit his pillow she breathed in, tilting her head to the side. She was drowning in his scent.

He settled over her and Stella let out a whimper as his rough fingers moved down to circle her clit. She felt hot all over, goosebumps breaking out on her skin as he touched her. His movements were gentle, but sure, and she bucked into him, moaning as she felt his hips press against her. His free hand came down to grasp her leg and she obediently wrapped them both around his waist, pressing herself against him fully.

He groaned, his length sliding against her core. Against the wishes of her logical mind, her body had reacted and she had become wet, her clit throbbing at his attention. Stella couldn't think, couldn't catch her breath, all she could do was surrender to the sensation flowing through her. She ran her hands up his arms, twining them around his neck, fingers just grazing his wings.

He shuddered, his hands leaving her immediately to reposition her grip. "Don't touch my wings." His tone wasn't harsh, only firm and Stella blinked, feeling something in her chest lurch at the reprimand.

"Ok." She nodded, her fingers tightening on the skin of his shoulders, avoiding the aforementioned appendages. She wondered why he had dictated such a rule—were they a vulnerable spot he simply didn't want a stranger to touch?

He kissed his way down her chest, his mouth latching onto one of her breasts and Stella couldn't hold back a moan, bowing up against him again. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist and she could feel his arousal pressing into her.

She shivered as his hands moved between them, fingers sliding through her wetness before he pressed two against her entrance. He paused for a moment, looking down at her and she nodded, moving her hips against his hand. He wasted no time in pushing them inside, fingers curling up to rub her walls. Stella panted, her legs shaking as his rough palm rubbed against her clit every time he pumped his fingers inside of her. She dropped one leg down to the mattress, giving him more room to move.

Never in any of the times she'd done this had a male touched her so carefully, treated her as if she was more than an object. She felt energised and awake and split open all at once. Like her soul was shaking.

Every time she had bedded a male they'd rushed to push their cock into her. Caden wasn't and she was at a loss to explain why. He was touching her, setting her nerves alight with every movement. Stella straightened her spine; using her strength to roll them over. She had to take back control before she lost control. His fingers slipped away as his hands flew up to grip her hips and he stared up at her with wide eyes as she sat astride him, her hips moving against his expertly.

Leaning down she started to kiss him again, mentally running through every trick she had to make a male desperate. Reaching down, she wrapped her hand around his cock, noting with a small amount of dread that he was larger than she remembered ever having before. Breathing deeply she went through motions that were almost second nature to her at this point, working him up before guiding him to her core.

Slowly, Stella took a steadying breath and sank herself down on him, hips stuttering as he stretched her. She screwed her eyes shut with a wince, unable to keep from frowning as pain shot through her. Her hands came to rest on his chest, holding her up as she tried to work him inside. "Fuck," he hissed, holding her hips and she didn't protest when he rolled them over again. That hadn't gone to plan.

He kissed down her throat, his body pressed against hers as he ran his hands up and down her sides in an attempt to soothe her. "You're doing so good sweetheart." His fingertips pressed firmly against her hips and Stella shuddered, opening her eyes as desire coiled tightly in her gut. "You're so fucking beautiful," He complimented, kissing her sweetly as he pressed further into her.

She burned where they were joined but Stella wasn't exactly unused to pain during sex so she simply grit her teeth, forcing herself to take him deeper. When he was fully seated inside her he stopped for a moment, panting as he leaned in close. His forehead pressed against hers and Stella met his eyes. "Your eyes are stunning." He whispered and she jolted, her mouth falling open in shock.

No one had ever complimented her eyes. Usually people were disgusted by them—in this situation some males asked her to close them—those from the Hewn City at least. But never, not once had anyone called them stunning. He noticed her shock and ran his thumbs along the skin under her eyes, kissing her gently. "They're beautiful." He whispered and Stella felt something in her break.

She gazed up at him in shock still, her eyes tracing over his face, looking for any tells he was lying. There were none. She startled as he slowly began to slide out of her and then thrust back in again. The burn was still present and she whimpered, instinctually attempting to close her thighs around him. He stopped abruptly, looking down at her cautiously.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked softly and she shook her head immediately. She couldn't stop—she had a job to do—but also...she sort of didn't want to. Carefully he lifted her legs up, hooking them over his hips, her ankles twining together as her legs fell further apart. Stella's eyes widened at the new position when it seemed to only draw him in deeper, but as he rocked against her slowly, propping up her hips with his hands, she realised it was definitely better. He wasn't pulling out fully, more grinding himself against her as he rolled his hips and after a while, the pain began to subside, only the slightest burn remaining.

Finally, he drew himself out carefully before sliding back in—Stella tensing up a little in anticipation of the pain. Her mouth dropped open in surprise as none was forthcoming. He smirked down at her, taking her surprise for consent and began to drive into her again, faster this time. Her fingers curled in the sheets and his hands left her hips, catching her legs when she couldn't keep her ankles locked together. He dragged her closer to him, his head turning to kiss the inside of her knee.

Stella threw her head back and moaned at the feel of him filling her. His fingers gripped her thighs, holding onto her tightly as he fucked into her. She bit back the sound of his name on her lips, not wanting to give away how much he was affecting her. She needn't have bothered. He hit a certain spot inside of her and grinned as she whimpered, her legs shaking visibly. With a wicked smile he began to hit that same spot over and over, delighting in the sounds she made.

"There we go." He whispered, her hamstrings protesting as he pushed forward to caress her face, his other hand never leaving her thigh. "Look at you now, you take me so well." A spike of pleasure burst through her at his words, hitting her like a bolt of lightning. The feel of him stretching her open was so encompassing Stella couldn't think of anything else.

Her walls clenched around him as he pounded into her, for the first time feeling overwhelming pleasure as a male found his own—enough to scatter all logical thought from her mind. Her breath huffed out of her as he moved and continued to hit that place deep inside her that turned her to jelly.

She looked up at him, at the light sheen of sweat covering his golden skin as his face twisted up in pleasure. He groaned, hips stuttering as she tightened around him, her own hips snapping up to meet his, wringing a deep moan from his mouth. "Fuck Ella." The sound of her false name jolted her back to reality and Stella stared up at him almost ashamed.

She glanced out to the side to where his massive black wings now flared out behind him. Stella shuddered, reminding herself of who she was dealing with and why she was here. He might seem sweet but he was an Illyrian—a beast. They were all violent, war-mongering people and she couldn't let the way he felt encased in her heat; stop her from doing her duty. There was no point in letting herself feel desire for him when she would only have to take his life later.

Caden groaned, his hips snapping faster now as he drove himself into her, chasing completion. He pulled her legs up further and she couldn't hold back the drawn out moan that escaped her as he thrust himself so deep into her she thought she might break.

As his pace became frantic Stella threw her head back against the pillows, letting him pull her hips forward to meet his. He came with a grunt, spilling inside her and Stella made sure to arch against him, clenching her walls tightly around his cock as she moaned loudly one more time, drawing out the sound.

After a moment of heavy breathing he pulled out, collapsing next to her on the bed, his arms reaching out to pull her to him. He closed his eyes for a second, catching his breath as his hands stroked up and down her sides. He moved to leave a few wet kisses up the back of her neck before finally rising into a half sitting position.

"What was that?" He nudged her to roll over, one of his hands coming up to stroke her cheek. He was frowning as he looked down at her, his hand trailing along her jaw until his thumb came to rest over her mouth, pressing gently against her lip.

"What was what?" Stella asked, confused. Wasn't he pleased? Her eyes traced over his face questioningly. She still felt stretched from where he'd been inside her—surely he wasn't complaining? She bristled, her eyes narrowing.

"You didn't come." His thumb was still on her lip, pulling it away from her teeth. "You faked it." Her mouth fell open completely. How did he even know? No one ever noticed. And if they did they wouldn't care. She gaped up at him, uncomprehending. This was how sex was—it wasn't about a female's pleasure.

For Stella; she pleasured the male, he came inside her and then he either gave her information or he collapsed in bliss and she killed him. Never had she come while having sex. Sure sometimes it felt nice—today it was better than nice—but if she wanted to orgasm she did it herself, at home.

"I don't—" She stammered hesitantly. "I don't. Usually." She wasn't quite sure what to say. Why did he seem to care?

"Ever?" He arched a brow, looking down at her in disbelief.

"With males." She corrected in a hiss, shoving his hand away from her, red blooming across her cheeks. She shifted uncomfortably, wanting to hide her face out of anger and embarrassment. She tried to push herself up, to scoot backward but it was difficult with him so close. She pushed her palm against his chest ineffectually.

"Sweetheart," Caden batted her hand away, ignoring her attempt to put distance between them. "You've clearly been with the wrong males." He grinned wickedly, suddenly looming above her once more. With little thought he grasped her legs, tossing them back over his shoulders. Stella stuttered, eyes wide as she looked at him in shock and Caden's own flickered with amusement as he held her gaze.

He slid down onto the mattress on his stomach, tugging her closer until her feet grazed his wings and he was gripping her knees with his hands. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to the apex of her thighs, his tongue grazing over her core. Stella yelped, bowing off the bed as her thighs attempted to snap shut around his head. "You—you can't do that." She gasped, trying to inch away. He held her legs tightly, glancing up at her with that infuriating expression of bemusement.

"Why not?" He challenged her, his tongue darting out to graze her heat once more. She flushed, red creeping down her chest as she whined, hips twisting.

"It's—I—males don't—" She stuttered, heart beating a million miles a minute. She drew in a harsh breath, still staring down at him in shock. "Don't you feel emasculated?" She finally blurted out, repeating the word a high fae male had thrown at her once.

He laughed, a full, belly-aching laugh and Stella went red, squirming in his grip as she covered her face with her hands. He pressed his cheek against her thigh, body shaking and when she finally glanced at him from between her fingers he was grinning.

"Who in the world told you that?" He raised a brow. "Females in the Spring Court must truly be suffering." She winced at the mention of her supposed origins, glad he couldn't see it behind her hands. His whiskey eyes danced with amusement as he gazed up at her from her thigh, his fingers drawing gentle circles higher and higher up her legs. She shivered at his touch, legs quivering reflexively as he traced over the sensitive skin where her legs met her hips.

Stella dropped her hands, head falling back onto the bed. She turned her head to the side so she didn't have to look at him and he couldn't catch her gaze. "Sweetheart," his voice was low and heated and she didn't have to see him to know he was smirking. "Some males might consider this submissive, but I think we both know who's really in charge here." Her stomach swooped as his hot breath ghosted over her core. Her walls clenched around nothing and her hair stood on end at the dark chuckle that followed.

"You're going to enjoy the feeling of my mouth on you and I'm going to enjoy dragging pleasure out of you—watching you fall apart as you come." Stella shuddered, her hips bucking reflexively at his commanding tone. She shivered as his breath caressed her thigh and finally he lowered his mouth to her again, closing his lips around her clit and sucking. She couldn't help it—she moaned wantonly.

His tongue grazed across her, flicking roughly against the delicate bundle of nerves as she panted harshly, hips twitching as she writhed against the mattress. The next time he sealed his lips over her, sucking gently at her clit, her body bowed upward and finally she relaxed her legs, spreading them wide to give him better access.

"Good girl," he murmured and she whimpered, hands reaching down to grip his hair as his tongue moved against her. She tugged on the silky strands, wrapping her fingers around them as she closed her eyes. Stella held on tight, unable to stop herself from grinding against his face.

"Fuck," the word left her in a whimper, barely audible. Arousal was coiled so tightly in her gut Stella couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything but the way his mouth felt against her. She finally brought herself to look down at him, desire hitting her like a sledgehammer when she found him staring at her, his heated gaze unwavering as he laved his tongue against her opening. He lifted his head and her breath hitched as she took in his swollen lips.

Was it bad that she wanted him to fuck her again?

With a jolt she realised he had to be tasting himself as well as her and she let out a strangled noise, hands dropping to the sheets. It was sinful, what he was doing—there was no other word for it. She let out an unsteady breath as he kissed the inside of her thigh, his fingers coming up to slip inside her. Whimpering, Stella bucked against him, two fingers barely a stretch. Her feet were grazing his wings but he didn't seem to mind this time, intent on making her squirm.

He smirked, sucking kisses into her skin as he stroked his fingers along her inner walls. "Say my name." He crooned. He let his thumb brush ever so slightly over her clit, moving it away when she attempted to buck into his hand. "Say my name, sweetheart." He repeated and Stella ignored him, a tiny thread of impertinence flaring to life within her.

He lowered his mouth to her again, his tongue rolling against her clit as his fingers imitated the motion inside her, stroking along the spot that made her toes curl. She could feel her orgasm approaching and all of her nerves started to tingle. Abruptly, he stilled his fingers, his mouth lifting away from her. She whimpered, attempting to grind down on his hand but he merely flattened the other over her hip, pressing her into the bed.

She glared down at him as her orgasm receded, her legs quivering, but he only raised an eyebrow expectantly. After a moment he returned to stroking her, his thumb circling rapidly around her clit, winding her quickly back into the same state. She arched against him, pressing herself readily into his hand as she moaned. Her chest was heaving as she panted, the pleasure building up and up until suddenly he stopped again, ceasing all movement.

Stella snarled in frustration, her hands coming up to grip the pillow behind her head harshly. She tried to force herself down onto his fingers but he was too strong, holding her in place. When she finally sagged back in defeat, he let the hand over her hip gentle, stroking softly along her skin. When his fingers began to move again, a third slid in next to them and Stella moaned, a low and choked-off sound as he stretched her. Her legs toppled from his shoulders and he took a second to force them apart, spreading her wider.

She felt hot all over, a whine escaping her as he began to move his fingers, his mouth returning to her clit. She was rocking her hips against him desperately, arousal coiling tighter and tighter within her like a spring. Just as she was about to topple over the edge he stopped, pulling back again.

A broken sob escaped from Stella's throat. "Gods," she cried out, rolling her hips into his firm grip. "Fuck." Tears escaped from her eyes. "Caden, Caden—please." She begged, feeling utterly wrecked as she gazed down at him.

"That wasn't so hard, was it sweetheart?"

Before she could answer his mouth returned to suck hard on her clit and his fingers curled, pressing deep inside her. Stella cried out, her toes curling as he rolled his tongue against her, his fingers stroking her walls at the same time. "Caden," she moaned, grinding herself against his face and with a flick of his tongue her orgasm slammed through her.

Its intensity took her breath away, hitting her like a thunderclap. Her mind went fuzzy as pleasure washed over her, setting her nerves alight from her hair to her toes. There was a buzzing in her ears and Caden's fingers dug into her skin, gripping her hips tightly as she shook apart, her legs trembling.

Stella shuddered, blinking her eyes open in a daze. She wasn't even sure when she'd closed them. Her body was still twitching, shockwaves rolling through her and she let out a soft noise as Caden pulled himself back up next to her, tugging her to his chest. She felt split open as he gazed down at her, brushing her hair back from her forehead as he surveyed his handiwork.

She had never felt like this. He'd taken her apart so thoroughly she could barely think. His large hands pulled her close, tucking one of her legs over the top of his. She opened her mouth but before she could speak he pressed a finger to her lips. "We're going to cuddle now," he informed her, pulling her face to his neck.

Stella let out a soft huff, almost protesting before she realised it felt...kind of nice. His arms encircled her, holding her to him firmly, but gently. Stella's brow furrowed as she tried to pinpoint what this feeling was weaving through her. He held her like she was something precious, something breakable, and suddenly it hit her like a kick to the guts. She felt safe. Tears burned behind her eyes and she screwed them shut, trying not to shake.

She tucked her head into him as closely as possible, letting her hair fall over her face, trying to pretend for a minute—a single moment in time—that the world outside of this bedroom didn't exist. That she wasn't an assassin, or a Darkbringer. That she wasn't a tool sent to end his life. But what was the point in that? It was no use pretending she had a choice in life and could be anything else. Dreaming only hurt more in the long run.

As he clutched her to his chest and she came down from her high, Stella focused on her breathing, falling into a meditative state to prevent herself from becoming too upset. How was it that the only male who'd ever treated her decently was an Illyrian warrior? A member of the terrifying High Lord's family, no less?

She waited, focusing on her breathing for the next hour as he slowly drifted off to sleep, his grip around her relaxing. It was only after she was certain he was asleep that she allowed the tears to fall from her eyes. This isn't fair. Stella trembled as she pulled herself free from his arms, slowly moving to her boots at the edge of the bed.

Keeping a weary eye on him, she reached down for her dagger, palming it in her hand. Blade curled in her grip, she slowly moved back toward him, sliding across the silk sheets. She lingered for a moment, her eyes tracing over his relaxed form. Tears continued to fall from her eyes as she loomed over him, her lower lip trembling as she raised the knife.

She held it there, a few feet from this throat, her hand shaking violently. She closed her eyes for only a second, blinking the tears away. A sob caught in her throat and she moved the dagger closer, trying to force herself to bring it down and end him.

In her moment of hesitation his eyes blinked open and they widened in alarm, quickly taking in the glint of her dagger in the darkness. As her hand began to push down he lashed out with lightning speed, gripping her wrist harshly and twisting, her dagger falling to the sheets.

He gaped for a moment, breath coming out in short pants as he stared in disbelief. Stella scrambled backward, her gut twisting as she ripped her arm from his grip. "What the fuck," he whispered, still staring as she threw herself off the bed, stepping back and away from him.

Looking back at him wide-eyed, Stella wrapped her arms around her naked body as a horrible feeling spread through her. Tears burned her eyes again and a lump formed in her throat. Caden scooped up her dagger, his eyes turning hard and Stella stumbled backward as he lunged from the bed, an expression of utmost fury on his face.

She reached desperately for her magic, twisting out of his reach as she forced it to pull her into a winnow, depositing her back in her room in the Court of Nightmares. Slowly, she looked down at herself and then back up at the familiar black of her dark, empty room. It was silent.

On reflex she made her way to the bathroom, turning on the hot water. It was only once she settled into the tub that her mind finally switched back on and Stella felt unending dread curl in her gut. She'd failed. For the first time, she had failed a mission and the consequences would be dire.

If he didn't track her down to finish what she had started then his family surely would. The High Lord would torture her for hours for the crime of trying to kill his nephew. Or the shadowsinger would. And if not them, then her father and Keir would gladly do the honours. Stella shook her head. She couldn't believe she had failed—and it was a failure—she'd had her blade at his throat for more than enough time to take him out but she'd hesitated. She hadn't been able to go through with it.

"Fuck."