Lucien hated the Night Court. Hated the way others watched him like he would betray them all without a second thought, hated the way eyes went wide when they saw his scar, hated how he would never fit into the celestial arrogance of the Inner Circle. He had nowhere else to go. Tamlin and the Spring Court had fallen to pieces, and he couldn’t look into his friend’s eyes after their betrayal. The Autumn Court hadn’t been a home to him in centuries… if it ever was. He was adrift, with nothing and no one to return to.

He’d found himself in a tavern in the Dawn Court after a meaningless diplomatic meeting that was mostly just an excuse to escape the Night Court for a few days. The blushed pinks and soft oranges of the Dawn Court felt refreshing after the harsh, dark palette of Night. In a way, it reminded him of home… of Spring, before…

No. He wouldn’t think of that tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, he swirled a fruity drink in his hand, watching the colors meld together as fae danced around him to music he could almost lose himself in. He hadn’t even noticed his shoe tapping against the tile, keeping time with the beat.

A fae slid onto the stool beside him and ordered a drink of their own. Lucien let himself be a fool for a moment, turning toward them with a fox grin. “Beautiful eve-”

That unmistakable flash of shock lit their eyes as they noticed the scar that marred his face. His stomach lurched; his mouth went dry. Lucien’s smirk wavered as he turned back toward the crowd.

“…evening.”