IV

IV
     According to Mariamme, men weren’t allowed into the cottage so Trey couldn’t go in with us. He wouldn’t even step on the porch, clearly respecting boundaries. I couldn’t tell if I should be relieved to have a few minutes without his teasing or sad about not being able to see his hot body for as long as I and Mariamme would be inside the cottage—whatever we were going in there to do. 

As Mariamme tugged me off the porch floor, I spared him a few seconds glance, my eyes drooping downwards with a gulp. Trey stood at the edge of the porch, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets, his dark hair catching the faint light of the clearing. The snow and wind didn’t seem to faze him, his stance relaxed and almost infuriatingly confident.

When he caught me looking, his lips twitched into that familiar smirk. "Careful, Feyre. You’re staring."

I jerked my gaze away, my face heating despite the biting cold. "I wasn’t staring," I muttered, gripping Mariamme’s arm as she helped me to my feet.

"Sure you weren’t," Trey drawled, folding his arms, his shoulders flexing.

Mariamme sighed loudly, clearly tired of the back-and-forth. "Feyre, focus. We don’t have all day."

I grumbled under my breath, shooting Trey a glare before following Mariamme into the cottage. As soon as the door closed behind us, a wave of warmth enveloped me, thawing my frozen limbs and bringing life back to my aching body. 

Mariamme didn’t waste any time, moving around the small space with practiced efficiency.  The cottage was simple but cozy—a fireplace crackled to the side, casting shadows on the wooden walls, and a table in the center was cluttered with various supplies. There was a big chinese porcelain vase from which dried eucalyptus branches splayed, filling the house with a sweet, clean odour. An ornamental framed oil painting hanging over the fireplace which had an intricately designed iron gate standing beside it caught my eyes. The painting was of a young woman, I couldn’t place exactly where I had met her or seen her, but I could have sworn my heart picked up at a faster pace at the sight of her hanging on the wall, in the house. 

"Sit," Mariamme instructed, pointing to a worn chair near the fireplace.

I stumbled towards it, dragging my feet, my eyes never falling off the frame for even a moment. I collapsed into the chair with a groan, my legs finally giving out. The heat of the flames licked at my frozen skin, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Mariamme shuffled through the house, disappearing into a door on the right. When she returned, I asked the question that had been tingling at the tip of the tongue. “Are we here to see her?”

Mariamme didn’t answer. She avoided my eyes even, crossing the room to the center table. 

“Where is she?” I asked again. 

Mariamme took a glance at the framed picture and then away as if staring at the picture too long would cause her to burn. “She owns the house. It seems she’s been expecting you. The house is welcoming today, as you can see…” She looked up at the fireplace, burning. “The fire’s burning.”

“Who is she?” 

Mariamme chuckled, lifting her eyes once again. “The late luna.” 

I stared at her, the words not fully sinking in. The late luna. The phrase hung in the air, thick with something unspoken.

“The late luna?” I repeated, trying to make sense of it. “But… I thought you said this place was hers?”

Mariamme nodded slowly, her eyes distant now, as if the mention of the luna carried more weight than I could understand. She moved toward the fire, her figure shadowed in the flickering light. “This house is hers, yes. But she’s gone now. Died a while ago.”

I felt the heaviness of her words settle in my chest. “How?” The question slipped out before I could stop myself.

Mariamme’s gaze shifted, her expression hardening slightly, as if she was debating whether to say more. Finally, she spoke, her voice low. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is what she left behind.”

I leaned forward in the chair, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “What did she leave behind?”

Mariamme turned toward me, her eyes locking onto mine with a seriousness that made my pulse quicken. “Her legacy. Her power. And now… her house. Her things. Her memories. She was Luna for a reason. Everything here is part of that.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “What does that have to do with me?”

Mariamme was silent for a moment, her gaze shifting away as if she was weighing whether to trust me with the next part. Then she spoke, her words heavy with implication. “Because she was waiting for you. She knew you were coming.”

I furrowed my brows, my eyes flickering from the flames to Mariamme. “Why is the fire still burning?” I asked, my voice laced with suspicion. “Is that... normal? And why are men not allowed in here? Does the fire have something to do with it? Is it because she resents them?”

Mariamme’s face tightened at the mention of men. For a moment, I thought she might ignore me, but then she sighed deeply and shook her head.

“There’s a long story behind it,” she said quietly, the weight of her words sinking in. She paused, her gaze flickering toward the flames, as if she could see the entire tale unfolding in them. “But I’ll give you the short version.”

I leaned forward, eager for anything that could shed light on the mystery of the place.

“She was the former alpha’s mate,” Mariamme began, her voice tight. “Before he betrayed her.” Her eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place, a bitterness or sadness, but she didn’t elaborate.

“Betrayed her?” I echoed, feeling my heart tighten. “How?”

Mariamme’s jaw clenched, her hands briefly resting at her sides before she crossed her arms. “He fell for her twin sister. He rejected her and banished her into the mountains, leaving her to fend for herself. That’s why men aren’t allowed in this house. Because of what they did to her. Because of what they did to her heart.”

I didn’t know what to say. The weight of the betrayal hung heavily in the room, and I felt like an intruder in a place filled with so much pain and history. Most especially, I understood the pain. Kane had chased me through the mountains, and then rejected me. I knew that kind of pain, the betrayal. The fire crackled louder, almost as if it, too, was grieving.

Mariamme’s gaze softened as she continued, but there was still that flicker of rawness in her eyes. “She came here to escape, to heal. And while she did, she built this place, this legacy, for herself. Not for anyone else. Especially not for the men who wronged her.”

I swallowed hard, the significance of her words sinking in. It wasn’t just the betrayal that lingered in the air—it was the resilience, the fight to survive in a place so far from everything she knew. The fire? It wasn’t just a source of heat. It was a symbol of something much deeper.

I nodded slowly, my voice barely a whisper. “I understand. But… Why would she be waiting for me? And why…” My gaze flickered back to the frame. “Why does she look so familiar?”

Mariamme locked gazes with me, almost as if I was foolish for asking such. “You don’t remember?” 

My brows tugged. “Am I supposed to remember something?” 

She avoided my gaze as smoothly as always. "Don’t get too comfortable," Mariamme warned as she rummaged through a bag on the table. "We’re not staying long."

I watched her for a moment before my gaze drifted back to the window. Through the frosted glass, I could see Trey still standing where we’d left him, his figure barely visible against the swirling snow.

"You trust him?" I asked, my voice soft but laced with curiosity.

Mariamme glanced at me, her expression unreadable. "I trust him as much as I trust anyone in this world."

"That’s not exactly comforting," I murmured, my eyes lingering on his silhouette.

Mariamme sighed, shaking her head as she pulled a small vial from her bag. "Trey is... complicated. He’s loyal, but he doesn’t always play by the rules. Don’t let your guard down around him, Feyre."

I snorted, pulling my knees to my chest. "Don’t worry. He makes it easy to stay on edge."

Mariamme smirked faintly but didn’t respond.

Outside, Trey shifted slightly, his head tilting as if he could sense us talking about him. I frowned, wondering just how much he could hear.

"Alright," Mariamme said, breaking the silence as she approached me with a small vial. "Drink this. It’ll help with the exhaustion and keep your wolf—dormant or not—from freezing solid."

I eyed the vial suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Just drink it," she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, I took the vial from her. The liquid inside glowed faintly in the firelight. Without giving myself a chance to second-guess, I downed it in one gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste. Mariamme took the empty vial from my hand and then reached for something else.

She presented a necklace, simple yet striking. It was gold, nearly plain, except for a small blue pearl that hung from the chain. Before I could protest, she slipped it over my head, clasped it around my neck, and tucked it under my clothes.

“Never take that off,” she warned, her gaze intense.

“Why?” I asked, my fingers instinctively brushing the necklace.

She met my eyes, her expression unreadable. “Let’s just say it’s to help keep you here longer without being found.”

I blinked, trying to process her words. “Oh… okay,” I murmured, a sense of unease creeping over me.

Mariamme nodded approvingly, then turned back to the table, organizing the supplies.

"Think he’s freezing out there?" I asked, glancing toward the window again.

Mariamme chuckled softly. "Trey? He’s probably enjoying himself. The cold doesn’t bother him."

"Of course it doesn’t," I muttered, leaning back in the chair.

But even as I tried to relax, my thoughts kept drifting back to him—his smirk, his teasing remarks, the way his presence seemed to fill the entire clearing despite his quiet stance.

"Stop thinking about him," Mariamme said suddenly, not even looking up from her task.

I jolted, heat rushing to my face. "I’m not!"

She chuckled again, shaking her head. "You’re not as subtle as you think, Feyre."

I opened my mouth to protest but snapped it shut when the door creaked open slightly, a gust of cold air blowing in. Trey’s voice followed, low and amused. He made sure to not step in, but his presence lingered at the threshold.

"You two done gossiping about me yet?"

Mariamme rolled her eyes, but I froze, my heart skipping a beat.

"Get back outside," Mariamme said sharply, pointing toward the door without turning around. "You know the rules."

"Just checking in," Trey said, his smirk audible in his tone. His gaze flicked to me, his amber eyes practically glowing in the dim light. "You look warmer already, Feyre. Glad to see you’re not passing out."

"Thanks for your concern," I muttered, hugging my knees tighter.

He chuckled, the sound rich and infuriating. "Anytime."

Mariamme stumbled towards the door and shoved it close with her foot, cutting off his laughter.

"You were saying?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I groaned, burying my face in my arms. "I wasn’t thinking about him!"

Mariamme just smirked, her knowing look making my cheeks burn even more.