Anger and jealousy pulsed in your veins as you bit your tongue gently, your head resting in the sight of your index and middle finger by your temple and your thumb on your chin. Rage simmered in your eyes. Liars. The both of them.

Rhys leaned against a bookcase watching you, with arms crossed. Azriel stood slightly to the right of your eye line to the side of the bookshelf, while Cassian peered out of the window.

You swallowed once. “They fucking deserve each other.” You muttered.

One of your best friends had dated a guy about 100 years ago, and recently you’d been introduced to him. Instantly you’d fallen for him, ignoring the charm of the gorgeous bat boys around you for a few months. He was your everything. He led you on, and said ‘he liked you, but didn’t want a relationship. Obviously, that hurt like hell. The smallest things could trigger you. But you were getting over it, getting over him. Then boom. That best friend? She likes him again, and he likes her. Now they’re together.

They were both from the court of nightmares, and on a visit to Keir to keep him in line you’d seen them. She'd apologised profusely saying she felt horrendous but it was white noise. They’d lied.

She didn’t get to tell you, she felt bad. It’s a wonder you broke was it? Let’s hear another joke.

So Rhys proposed an idea. Another visit to Keir, to make them both jealous. You’d be all over Mor, to piss your ‘best friend’ off, and you’d have Cassian, Rhys and Azriel on your heels, each playing role of male in love.

Thats how you ended up stood in the court of nightmares, following behind Rhys, in his direct footsteps, walking past those wretched gates, and into the black obsidian palace. Every surface glittering obsidian. Your heels echoed, as inky chiffon hugged your breasts, and waist, falling to the floor, but leaving dangerous slits.

You saw him, your ex or whatever he was and he froze.

It was quite an image. The three most powerful men in Prythian, guarding you as you strutted in.