Arundel Castle - Northern Lights | Aurelian

The young man wasn't sure what to make of her grins and the sparks that flickered behind blue irises. He was aware of flirtations of course, and was fine to play the game, but she wasn't exactly subtle. Usually, it took time for girls to warm up and come around to casual flirting, but this one...

“Wild and unbroken, huh? Fortunate.”

...Fortunate? Alec's brow furrowed as he sought to make sense of the word in relation to how he had described the horse. English was a difficult language and he found the people that spoke it often used unrelated words as riddles in ways that didn't always make sense to him. Most people wouldn't find fortune in an owned horse being wild, especially Eira's type of people, or what he assumed her people were, considering the sort she hung around with.

They paid good money for these animals, and expected them to behave the way they wanted.

Alec always found the humor when they didn't.

“Do you like everything wild and untamed?”

She stepped closer, but he didn't move, following her eyes and the motions of her hands as one grasped at the pocket of his shirt. Her eyes trailed over his chest, before raising back up to his, and all he could do was watch, his heart thundering in his ears in anticipation.

She was a pretty one. Prettier than most of the girls he'd dated here and there, but Alec held no illusions that she was truly interested in him. Maybe for a quick good time, and like any hot-blooded twenty-year-old, he wasn't above his own predilections to indulge.

“Or only horses?”

His smirk widened slightly as his eyes drifted down to her lips before casting behind her to ensure no one was coming. Another quick glance between the stables in the case anyone was listening. They were alone. He assume Lady Rosalie had seen to that. Had the girls planned this?

"I like some things tamed," he answered, his hand drifting back up her arm where he fiddled with the sleeve at her shoulder. His fingers dipped beneath the hem, dropping it away to reveal soft ivory that glistened against the sunlight that filtered in. "They are easier to manage. But easier is not always better." His eyes lingered at the curve of her shoulder before drifting casually back to hers.

Alec let the fabric slip from his fingers, but made no effort to put it back into its place, "Wild things are usually more honest. They tell you very quickly when you've gotten to close." He leaned in slightly, ghosting his lips along her cheek until they tickled against her ear.

A soft whisper. "And yet you came closer." He remained for only a moment, before drawing back again, enough to look at her properly. There was amusement in his expression, his eyes twinkling with curiosity as he stared at this strange girl who seemed...all too eager to play a dangerous game. "Maybe you don't mind wild things so much either?"

Well, he’d certainly gotten the hint.

Eira kept her eyes on Alec’s face as his hand lifted to play with the lace of her sleeve, gently tugging until it slipped off. Warmth pooled in her stomach as the ghost of his fingertips played against the skin of her upper arm, heart beating in anticipation.

When his gaze returned, dark and deep and warm — the entire converse of Lev’s — she couldn’t help but smile a little wider. This was much easier than she’d thought. Alec didn’t seem to have any trouble with the bluntness of her approach, or the vast difference in their social standings. He seemed more than willing to jump at the opportunity with open arms.

Thank God. The last thing she needed was a man too stuck-up to cross invisible lines drawn by a bone-dry society. She was here for the opposite.

His lips by her ear and the whisper of his words sent a tingle down her spine, pulling a soft hum that was half giggle, stomach fluttering. She let his scent engulf her for the moment he was close, fill up her whole body and push everything else from her mind. She wanted no thoughts of anyone or anything, just herself and the feeling of lightness growing in her chest.

"Maybe you don't mind wild things so much either?” he asked after he’d pulled back, and Eira lifted a hand to lightly curl into his shirt.

“Correct,” she said, before rising to her toes and pulling him in.

────────────────────

Thursday, 05 October 1922
~ 12:12 pm ~
Arundel Castle — Rosie's Bedroom

───────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅───────────────

Sighing, Eira pushed herself onto her side, head propped up in one hand.

“And then he said I should skip a meal or two; I’m getting a little round in the middle.” She rolled her eyes — hard — and reached for another cookie from the plate sitting on the bed between them. Nibby had given her a whole basket before she’d left. Naturally she hadn’t said no.

Taking a bite, Eira shook her head, a spark of anger growing in her chest. “I told him to try and stop me,” she continued, shrugging, “and then called him an asshole in Russian, but he didn’t like that much. Grabbed me around the arm and squeezed until it bruised.”

Her eyes trailed to Rosie’s face, anticipating the sheer fury sure to be visible there. “It’s gone now.” She lifted her free arm, the one not currently propping up her head, cookie held high, and shook back the sleeve of her dress to show unmarred skin. “And he embarrassed himself in front of everyone, so it was worth it.”

Smiling slightly, Eira lowered her arm.

It sure had hurt like hell all evening and the next day, too. Sleeping on that side had been practically impossible. Still, she counted it as a win. It wasn't her who had lost composure in public this time.

Amusement curled around her lips the longer she looked at Rosie, sparkling through her gaze. "You have murder in your eyes," she grinned at her friend, biting off another piece of her cookie. If she were lucky, she'd actually gain some weight and annoy the shit out of Lev that way.

It was a good enough thought to drown out the unwelcome feelings that'd crept into her head.

Chuckling, Eira added, "You know we can't do that. They just find the next worst man for me."

Rosie was fuming. Whoever Lev Zdravkova thought he was, he had a rude awakening coming the moment he crossed paths with Rosalie McCormick. The audacity of the man to say her Eira, her beautiful best friend, needed to skip a meal and imply that she was somehow flawed in figure was enough to summon ugly feelings in the normally docile and gentle girl.

Rosie wasn't a violent person by nature. She had been violent, to protect the person she loved, but under duress and extreme circumstances. She'd never sought out a fight, but she was reconsidering her morals at the moment and how good it would feel to depulso Lev right off his own high horse.

“I told him to try and stop me, and then called him an asshole in Russian, but he didn’t like that much. Grabbed me around the arm and squeezed until it bruised.”

Rosie's eyes drifted to Eira's arm when she lifted her sleeve, hot anger taking hold of her stomach. Rich, powerful men. They were all the same, weren't they? No matter how handsome they were, no matter how charming, no matter how sweet their words, they all did the same thing. They felt entitled to the women and girls in their lives, thinking they owned them like a prized horse in a stable. Something to dress up, parade around, discipline when it misbehaved and keep carefully penned in when it dared wander too far. As though fathering a girl, marrying one, or simply having the good fortune to be promised her gave a man some divine right to decide what she ate, where she went, what she said, and how much pain he was permitted to inflict when she refused to obey.

"You have murder in your eyes."

Hmm? Rosie's gaze drifted back to Eira's icy blue eyes, her expression softening when she saw her friend's amusement. She sighed, grabbing a cookie for herself and gave a slight shrug. "I'd do it. For you anyway," she grinned, biting into the treat, savoring it the way she'd never allowed herself to before...everything. She'd never eaten sweets - hell she'd barely eaten at all - but her stay at Mungo's and then time with Julia had helped Rosalie realize that some of the things that felt so monumental were really nothing in the grand picture of life.

"You know we can't do that. They just find the next worst man for me."

Rosie thought for a moment. She and Eira were as different as night and day in the way they looked at the world and their lot in life. Rosie had looked around her ostentatious life - castle, wealth, luxury, beauty - and had seen a prison. She'd suffered in forced silence beneath a roof that sought to make her as small as possible and she'd screamed and raged against the gates until they gave way. She'd chosen a different life - harder in some ways, easier in others - and had paid some of the highest prices for it.

Eira, seemed resigned to her fate, and Rosie wished she could help her understand that there was more out there if she wanted it. "Well, not if I hide you away with me," she said, only half-teasing. Her eyes glinted a bit. "Cass's theatre group has a plethora of wild boys that would fight for a chance with you. And you know they're all good looking. Actors, you know." She reached for Eira's hand as she popped the last of her cookie in her mouth.

A beat, before she continued. "You don't let him hurt you, okay? I don't care if you have to kick him in the groin. Don't let him put his hands on you again."

"I'd do it. For you anyway.”

Eira grinned. “I know you would.” And she’d do the same for Rosie, too, if she ever had to. In fact, they would likely do it together anyway. Part of her almost thought it sounded like fun, but she decided not to entertain that particular fantasy for too long; it probably was for the better. She had crossed that line already and felt no regret. Doing it for fun, however? That was a level even Eira found uncomfortable. She had seen the look Nadežda got sometimes. The thought alone sent a shiver down her spine.

She quickly banished the memories away.

Savouring the last of her cookie, Eira smiled with a mischievous glint as Rosie suggested she hide with her, ignoring the twinge in her chest. She understood the underlying message, the half-tease. It always sounded like an offer, but Eira knew the choice Rosie had made could never work for her. It was their most fundamental difference.

Running away, hiding, trying for a life away from family duty and order… The thought never truly lingered, not in any serious manner. The broken pieces of Rosie’s story Eira knew weren’t much, but they were enough to draw conclusions for herself, should she ever do the same. The Laurence were old and powerful, proud like any other pureblood family, and upholding the same frameworks as all of them did, the Zdravkova included. Rosie had made it out somehow, but Eira had an almost instinctual feeling, a tight knot in her guts, something that killed all ideas of freedom before they got the chance to form fully.

She didn’t think she’d survive.

"Cass's theatre group has a plethora of wild boys that would fight for a chance with you. And you know they're all good looking. Actors, you know.”

Eira pushed the thought aside, laughing instead of dwelling on useless dreams. “Maybe I’ll just watch them fight over me instead,” she mused idly, wrapping her fingers around Rosie’s hand as it reached for hers. “I think that would greatly entertain me. We can make a whole competition out of it.”

She looked around, eyes twinkling. They dimmed a little when Rosie’s voice grew serious again. It always did when they talked about her life, about Lev and marriage and family. And it always broke her heart a little.

Her hand squeezed around Rosie’s. “Promise,” she said, smiling reassuringly. Hoped to. A moment passed, threatening to grow heavy, but Eira didn’t allow it to linger.

“How’s Cass’s theatre stuff then?” she asked, latching onto the first thing she could reach. “Is it good? Actually, you should take me one time, so that I can judge it for myself. Give him some lip.” She paused to snicker. “I kind of miss it, actually.”

Rosie smiled when Eira did, knowing the silent promise that passed between them. Perhaps her friend thought maybe it was tongue in cheek, that when it came down to it, of course Rosalie would never harm a fly. The number of secrets she'd kept from her best friend were staggering and only seemed to be growing. She wondered, if Eira actually knew what all had transpired - if she knew about how brutal the attack was and how it had ended - if she'd ever look at Rosie the same.

So much had changed, and yet so much remained the same. Rosie was still the hopeless romantic of the two of them, where Eira still held a more cynical view. Rosie was quieter, tamer, where Eira was outspoken and wild. And yet...how strange that they took such contrary positions in spite of those characteristics. Despite Eira's wildness, she kneeled to her family, obeyed and strove to please them.

Rosie knew Eira would never let herself escape, and that she'd have to accept that her best friend had chosen a path she had never been able to stomach. It was the beauty of choice, she supposed, and if a life with the Zdravkovas was what Eira wanted, then who was Rosie to tell her it was wrong? She would never.

“Maybe I’ll just watch them fight over me instead. I think that would greatly entertain me. We can make a whole competition out of it.”

Hands clasped together, Rosie smiled again, dropping her head on Eira's shoulder. "It'd be quite the watch. How could they resist you? Especially when they have..." Rosie cleared her throat, banishing the thought of Cassian's "friend" from her mind. "...erm. The types of girls they have." Rude. Presumptuous. Played innocent while trying to make moves on her husband. Would she ever be free of that girl hovering in their orbit?

“How’s Cass’s theatre stuff then? Is it good?"

"Really good, actually. They wrapped the children's theatre end of summer. They put on a production of Peter Pan and Cass got to direct it all." She smiled, remembering the way he'd looked up in the rafters. She hadn't known then about his director dying or all that had gone on, but it hadn't left her any less proud of him. "He was brilliant. He's part of the adult troupe now, having to prove himself all over again, but I think he enjoys the challenge."

The amount of times Eira had asked about Cassian could be counted amongst the times the sun had exploded, but Rosie was happy to share. Since they had reconciled, she was trying to be more mindful of supporting him, rather than pointing out where he struggled. Being present, instead of assuming words were enough. It was hard, but she was learning.

"Actually, you should take me one time, so that I can judge it for myself. Give him some lip. I kind of miss it, actually.”

"He doesn't!" Rosalie laughed, nudging her friend gently. "How do you ever expect to be invited to dinner if you two keep going at each other like feral cats?" She smiled, studying Eira for a moment. "He really isn't that bad, you know. He's grown up a lot. You might actually like him."

Maybe.

"It'd be quite the watch. How could they resist you? Especially when they have...erm. The types of girls they have." 

Eira frowned, tilting her head to glance at Rosie with a questioning smile. That sounded suspiciously like something she hadn’t been told about, but Eira decided not to prod. Not right now.

Instead, she listened to her friend speak of Cassian as though he were the most wonderful living creature ever to grace the earth with his presence and talent. Eira knew she couldn’t exactly judge him, at least not in this particular regard—she had never actually seen him act, let alone direct an entire play himself. The one they’d planned in their fourth year had gone down the drain quickly enough, and the following year she’d spent hating him with every ounce of her being. The year after that, she’d been gone.

But the lingering resentment for Cassian had never quite loosened its grip. She had never considered him good enough for her best friend, and that never failed to precede her opinion on everything he did and didn’t do. Even after more than two years of being free of his existence, the aversion was alive and well.

Since reuniting with Rosie, Eira had kept most of it to herself. If Rosie still wanted him, then so be it. A stubborn part of Eira was convinced that much of what had happened to them on their run had been Cassian’s fault, whatever it may have been. He’d always been stupid and selfish, too far in his own head, convinced of his own brilliance, and incapable of providing for Rosie. But Eira could do little more than accept her friend’s decision, even if she didn’t support it.

Though that didn’t mean she was going to pretend her feelings had changed in any way.

"He doesn't!"

Eira grinned, giggling as Rosie nudged her.

"How do you ever expect to be invited to dinner if you two keep going at each other like feral cats? He really isn't that bad, you know. He's grown up a lot. You might actually like him.”

“Ha!” A laugh slipped out before she could stop it, brief and light, and Eira turned her head to look at Rosie. “I don’t know, Rosie,” she said with a chuckle, “this feels like something too ingrained in both of us to be changed.”

Amusement danced in her eyes for another moment before her smile softened. She squeezed Rosie’s hand.

“I still want to be invited to dinner though. I’ve grown up too, you know. I won’t go at him like a feral cat, I promise.” A beat passed. “Only a little bit.”

A knowing gleam returned to her eyes. “He needs it, I’m sure. What was that about girls earlier and the types they have at that theatre? Is one of them making trouble? Is he making trouble?”

Her expression immediately turned suspicious. Cassian had always been a Lothario.

“I swear I’ll whoop his ass if he is.”

“I don’t know, Rosie, this feels like something too ingrained in both of us to be changed.”

Rosie sighed with resignation, before letting out a little groan and flopping backwards on her old bed. It was almost poetically ironic, wasn't it? The two people she loved most in the world had somehow seem fit to become mortal enemies for - in Rosalie's opinion - an incredibly stupid reason.

Eira and Cassian's short-lived fling back in their fourth year had hurt. She was well-aware that she and Cassian hadn't been dating at the time, but they'd been fooling around like they were. The fact that Cassian and Eira had snogged the very day after Rosie had had a really personal and intimate moment with him had rubbed salt in the wound.

But with time, she'd also realized that all of them had just been dumb kids. Fourteen. No one had sought out to hurt anyone else. All of them were just having fun, until it had blown up in their face. Cassian had always been transparent and forthcoming that he snogged other girls and that Rosalie wasn't the only one, but Eira being her best friend had...sucked. Still, she had been able to move past it all and love them both without malice.

Somehow, Cass and Eira hadn't come out the other end of it the same way. She didn't know exactly why or what had transpired between them, as both had only shared small details, but she wished for the love of Merlin they'd just get over it.

Did what transpire four years ago really matter in the long run? Rosalie didn't think so.

“I still want to be invited to dinner though. I’ve grown up too, you know. I won’t go at him like a feral cat, I promise. Only a little bit.”

Rosie smiled. "I'll invite you. I can't promise Cassian will let you through the door, though. You two will have to make amends at some point, you know." She sat up again, running her hand through her long hair. Or they wouldn't and having to keep them separated would continue on for the rest of her life. It wasn't hard, she supposed. She lived and built her life around Cassian, and visited with Eira when the time allowed. But what about when they had children one day? She wanted her kids to be friends with Eira's, but if Cass didn't want them around them, did she have a place to argue?

She supposed it was all beside the point if Eira's family wouldn't let her children around halfbloods anyway.

“He needs it, I’m sure. What was that about girls earlier and the types they have at that theatre? Is one of them making trouble? Is he making trouble?”

"What?" Rosie laughed and shook her head, "No, it's just -"

“I swear I’ll whoop his ass if he is.”

"He's not, he's never stepped out on me." She smiled, but it fell slightly as she hesitated. "It's just...this one girl." Rosie rolled her eyes and shrugged. "He's known her forever, well before me, and they have a sort of history. Not a good one or anything. She's horrible, really." She looked at Eira, her grin returning, "Don't give me that look. Anyway, she's..." Rosalie held out her hands in front of her, strangling the air, "just always in his orbit and trying to get close to him." She dropped her hands to her lap again. "He insists she's just his friend, but we know how those types of girls are."

She sighed. "The kind that don't care if he has a girlfriend or if he's married." The words came out as an annoyed mutter. "I'm just...insecure about it I guess."

Very. Rosie knew if Jessica had the opportunity, she'd make a move on Cassian. She didn't doubt her husband would turn her down if he recognized it as a move, but he liked to assume the best in people. Especially his people.

"Anyway...I think I've just learned to endure it. What else can I do? She's part of the theatre troupe." Wanting a change of subject, Rosie hesitated for a second.

"I have something I think I should tell you though. And I don't know if you'll hate me after."

"I'll invite you. I can't promise Cassian will let you through the door, though. You two will have to make amends at some point, you know.”

Eira sighed heavily, casting her gaze towards the ceiling with dramatic flair. “Yeah,” she relented reluctantly. “I know.”

Despite what everyone might say, Eira did know. Meeting as they did worked well enough for now, and she supposed it didn’t necessarily have to change. She was perfectly content if she never saw Cassian again. But Rosie’s wanted something different, and Eira knew that too. She knew Rosie wanted them all to be some happy little group, for the past to remain where it belonged, and for her and Cassian to somehow become friends. If only it were that easy.

Eira had long stopped caring about the rejection. That had never truly been what bothered her.

It was him.

All of him.

God, she couldn’t fathom what Rosie saw in the man, but she’d given up trying. She could try tolerating his existence, she supposed. Perhaps if Rosie did take her to one of his shows, she could at least be cordial. Pretend the creases away and coexist peacefully. For her friend’s sake. That was, of course, assuming he behaved. Eira’s gaze returned to Rosie, watching her from where she lay on her back.

"He's not, he's never stepped out on me.”

Her eyes narrowed as she hummed.

"It's just...this one girl. He's known her forever, well before me, and they have a sort of history. Not a good one or anything. She's horrible, really.”

Her expression had grown even more suspicious, lips pursed.

"Don't give me that look. Anyway, she's...just always in his orbit and trying to get close to him. He insists she's just his friend, but we know how those types of girls are. The kind that don't care if he has a girlfriend or if he's married. I'm just...insecure about it I guess.”

Eira hummed again, folding her arms across her chest.

Her trust in Cassian truly was abysmal, but she wasn’t about to launch into a tirade in front of Rosie and worsen her worries, or argue that it was his responsibility to draw a line, properly and decisively. They’d been here before.

"Anyway...I think I've just learned to endure it. What else can I do? She's part of the theatre troupe.”

Eira rolled onto her side and propped her head up on one hand. “I’ll give her something to endure if you take me there,” she said, meaning every word, anger flashing in her eyes. “She won’t even dare look at Cass when I’m done with her.”

What a strange thing to say.

Never in her life would she have thought she’d be defending that man. Ugh. That thought almost made her feel a little nauseous.

The things she was willing to do for love.

"I have something I think I should tell you though. And I don't know if you'll hate me after.”

Her thoughts had drifted, but Rosie’s words and the hesitation in her voice snapped her attention back. Frozen, Eira stared at her for a moment, her mind drawing a blank. Whatever could Rosie possibly say that would make Eira hate her? There was nothing.

And then, without warning, dread crept coldly into her chest.

Was she leaving? Was there somewhere she was going that Eira couldn’t follow?

Scrambling upright, Eira sat cross-legged on the bed. One hand immediately reached for Rosie’s, fingers curling around hers and squeezing lightly, as though the contact itself might make it untrue. She forced the worry down. That couldn’t be it. Her eyes searched the blue of Rosie’s.

“I could never hate you,” she said insistently, “you know that.” Her fingers tightened around Rosie’s. “What…what happened?”

“I’ll give her something to endure if you take me there. She won’t even dare look at Cass when I’m done with her.”

Rosie smiled, dropping her gaze from Eira's as she squeezed her best friend's hand. "I know you would," she said softly. Eira would do anything for her; Rosie knew she just needed to ask, which was exactly why she never would. She never wanted her sweetest friend making trouble for herself on Rosie's account, or getting mixed up in the chaos or complexity that was her life. Eira had enough to contend with on her own, without worrying about some random girl.

"Besides, it wouldn't make a difference. Cassian has to be the one to lay down the law." In France, when Madeleine had made moves on Cass, he'd insisted over and over they were just friends - until she'd tried to kiss him. He'd seen it for himself, but before then, thought nothing of the girl making him meals and letting him shower at her house.

Eira sat up quickly, Rosie able to read the alarm on her face. Her back stiffened slightly as her friend's fingers tightened around her own, and she braced herself. Eira was loyal to her family, dedicated - seemingly - to what her life had become. She wasn't the type to betray her family, and while she knew that Rosie already had, she...didn't know how deeply.

Eventually, it would get around to the larger families. James had told her to ready herself for the questions and accusations that would eventually come. Although her father and uncle had already been convicted and sentenced to Azkaban, appeals meant the truth of Thomas's death would eventually be revealed. While most every day people wouldn't trouble themselves with even reading about the case, she knew, with James gunning for the Minister's seat, the more powerful families would be watching everything.

How the family intended to spin it, she didn't know yet.

But Eira deserved to know the truth, and who her best friend had become.

“I could never hate you, you know that.”

Once, she did know that. But this was different. Rosie had taken a life, and not just any. She'd taken the life of her favorite cousin - a boy she'd once considered her best friend. She had chosen Cassian's life over his, and while she didn't regret the choice, she regretted that she'd had to make it at all.

What if it had been between Eira and Cassian? Would she have been able to make the same decision? Would she have hesitated? Screamed? Begged either of them to stop? Would she have found another way? Or would she have killed one of them to save the other?

They were the sort of thoughts that still haunted her, no matter how hard she tried not to think about it.

“What…what happened?”

Rosie swallowed hard, keeping her eyes on their entwined hands. "When my father and uncle found us in France," she began slowly, "they brought my cousin Thomas with them. You remember how close we were?" She'd told Eira about him a few times. She didn't want to rehash every gory detail, but context was needed. "They used him against me. I don't know how. But he held me still and made me watch them torture Cassian." He'd torn at her hair and stabbed her in the throat over and over with his wand when she'd tried to scream or beg.

"They were using the cruciatus curse on him. I was able to disarm them, but then Thomas lunged for him. He was going to kill Cass and...." she stammered a bit, her eyes fluttering as she finally looked up, but kept her focus on the wall in front of them. She couldn't even look Eira in the eye, for fear of the disdain she was afraid she'd see. "...I killed him." The words came strained but calm.

A deep breath, finally flicking her blue eyes to her friend's. "The killing curse. I - I didn't even know I had it in me, but - I - I guess I did."

She shrugged for a moment. "MLE said it was self-defense so, no charges or anything. But I still did it, right?" Rosie bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. It was the first time she'd talked about Thomas's death since the night it had happened - aside for the brief moment with James.

She grew quiet, not sure what else there was to say. Was there anything? When a life was taken, it was permanent. Despite what reasons there were or weren't, it was a stain on the soul of the killer. Rosie had begun to come to terms with what she had done, but the label of 'murderer' wasn't one she thought she'd ever be able to reconcile.

"When my father and uncle found us in France, they brought my cousin Thomas with them. You remember how close we were?”

Eira nodded. She remembered Rosie telling her about him occasionally. Not much, but enough to understand how dear he’d been to her. He’d reportedly died in the crossfire. Eira had always assumed there was more to the story. She dreaded what Rosie might say next.

"They used him against me. I don't know how. But he held me still and made me watch them torture Cassian.”

Her heart twisted.

Rosie had never told her what had happened with her father and uncle in France. She hadn’t ever talked about it at all. The little Eira knew had come from Benji and the papers, but she had always feared that it had been bad—worse than anyone let on. She had sensed it, had seen it in her friend’s eyes. Something subtly haunted. But she hadn’t asked. She had always known that if Rosie wanted to talk about it, she would.

And now that she did, horror and pain seeped into Eira’s chest, throat tightening and face crumbling.

She had always only wanted happiness for Rosie. Love, peace. Whichever way she chose. Finally hearing how far from that life she had been pushed made Eira want to cry and rage at the world for having done this to her.

"They were using the cruciatus curse on him. I was able to disarm them, but then Thomas lunged for him. He was going to kill Cass and....”

Eira’s hand around Rosie’s tightened.

"...I killed him."

She kept her eyes on Rosie’s profile, watching the words settle between them. The words didn’t startle her. They didn’t shock her. But they hurt. A deep, aching sorrow that felt like a clawed hand squeezing around her heart, a low thrum of anger slowly simmering with the flow of her blood.

Rosie didn’t deserve this.

When silence settled, Eira didn’t let it linger. She squeezed Rosie’s hand.

“You saved your husband’s life, Rosie,” she said, her voice soft and the words gentle, but the message insistent. Her gaze never left her friend’s face. “They tried to take away your life, and you didn’t let them. They had no right. You protected what’s yours. What you love. You stopped him from finishing what they started.”

She let the words settle.

Rosie was a sweetheart. A soft girl in all the best ways. Gentle and tender, sympathetic and forgiving. Unyielding in defending her loved ones. Eira wished she knew how to treat herself that way too.

Her expression softened, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“You did what you had to do,” she said. “It doesn’t make you less of a person. It doesn’t make you some monster.” Her hand squeezed another time. “You survived. And you protected the person you loved. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

Eira shifted closer, leaning her head onto Rosie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“You saved your husband’s life, Rosie."

That morning back in May, when Rosalie had woken and started her day, she'd had no idea how it would end.

It had been a normal, busy morning. Breakfast and quick showers. A hand-in-hand walk into work, both smiling and making plans for the evening. A joke here or there over something dumb that had happened the day before. A laugh that had her leaning against him. A quick kiss goodbye as he dropped her at her workstation and headed off to his.

A routine start to a routine day. How could she have ever imagined that instead of the date they'd planned, she'd be holding her husband's lifeless, bloody form in her arms, while the life dissipated from her cousin's?

She had saved her husband's life, and she knew she'd do it again if she had to. There wasn't a universe where she could watch someone deliberately hurt him and turn the other way. The only crime Cassian had committed was loving her while her family disapproved. She'd chosen to run. She'd chosen to steal her father's money. She'd made every decision herself. Cassian hadn't forced her into anything, but he'd paid the highest price of the two of them.

“They tried to take away your life, and you didn’t let them. They had no right. You protected what’s yours. What you love. You stopped him from finishing what they started.”

Rosie nodded, relief spilling over her when Eira didn't immediately reject her or the things she'd done. "I know," she said softly, appreciating the squeeze of her friend's hand. She should have known better. Eira had always been gentle and kind with Rosie's heart, even in the harder moments when she would have been right not to be. She'd always reached for Rosalie with empathy and love first, and understanding of the girl that so few others ever held.

To many, Eira was cold and aloof, even hateful at times. But Rosie had never experienced her friend that way. From the moment they'd met, warmth had flown between them. Smiles, giggles and secrets. A knowing of one another that came easily, that what each portrayed on the surface wasn't necessarily accurate to the girl waiting beneath.

Many had seen Rosie as weak. As boring. As a blood traitor and a whimsical girl with fantastical ideas about what was possible and what wasn't. Eira had loved her all the same, never believing the things that many of the peers had about Rosie.

The two were platonic soulmates, in every way.

“You did what you had to do. It doesn’t make you less of a person. It doesn’t make you some monster. You survived. And you protected the person you loved. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

"Okay," she answered softly, resting her head on Eira's shoulder. Did she deserve such compassion and understanding? Did she deserve to be absolved from the horror she had caused? Was there ever a justification to taking a life? When Cassian had killed those men on the dock, she had never faulted him. He had done it to protect the girl he loved. If the roles were reversed, would she find fault in Eira for protecting herself and her husband if she had to?

Rosie knew she wouldn't. So why couldn't she extend the same grace to herself? She supposed she had always been her own hardest critic.

"I love you," she said, a small smile finding its way back to her lips. "Thanks for not hating me, I guess." A little laugh escaped her as she sat back up and faced her friend again, feeling a weight lifted from her shoulders. Now that Eira knew, Rosie didn't feel like she was carrying some enormous burden and secret while smiling like everything was fine.

Her eyebrow perked up a bit. "How's things with Alec? Did you see him this morning before you came up?"

A small smile rose to her lips. “I love you too,” Eira murmured, a wave of gratitude for her friend rushing warmly into her chest.

She didn’t care that Rosie had taken a life. That it had been family. Rosie could take a hundred lives, erase her entire family name from Britain’s society, and Eira would still love her exactly the same.

Maybe her own perception of it had simply been warped too much. Slowly and deliberately twisted over the years through exposure to Nadežda; through being entrusted to a woman who had never shied away from torture—inflicting it on her own no less—and who had held no qualms over teaching her young niece her ways. Eira hadn’t yet seen her kill anyone, but she had little doubt that, eventually, she would.

Perhaps it had numbed something in her. Deepened an already pragmatic worldview until there were some things she couldn't bring herself to agonize over.

Some things couldn’t be helped. Some things just happened. No point in crying over spilled milk. As far as Eira was concerned, Thomas had deserved his fate. And Rosie’s father and uncle deserved to rot in Askaban for the rest of their pathetic lives.

"Thanks for not hating me, I guess.”

Eira met her friend’s eyes, an impish smile tugging at her lips. “I will never hate you, Rosie. Ever.” Her smile softened for just a moment. “You’re my everything.”

Something brighter returned to Rosie’s face, her brows perking.

"How's things with Alec? Did you see him this morning before you came up?”

Eira giggled in response, eyes glittering with mischief. They had spent so long talking about things that hurt—Lev, France, family—that she was more than happy to let the conversation drift into topics considerably less heavy.

Her lips curled into a smirk.

“Maybe I did.”

She sounded entirely too pleased with herself, bursting into another fit of girlish giggles.

“I don’t think I can be blamed,” she added with a light shrug. “He’s cute. Doesn’t talk much. Very attentive, though.” Eira’s smile turned into something cheeky. “And he knows a lot about horses, which is obviously what I was there for.”