Chapter Text
“And where have you been all afternoon, Morrigan dear?”
“At the Palace of Thread and Jewels. I was shopping for something new and shiny to wear to the mating ceremony next week. Do you want to see?”
“Let’s see if your tastes match my standards.”
“I wanted something not red for once so I went with emerald—why are you looking at it like that, Amren?”
“I know you of all people are not a foolish girl, Morrigan. How disappointing. You were swindled.”
“Swindled? What the hell do you mean—”
“Scammed. Conned. Tricked. Those are fake emeralds. One glance and it’s obvious. You might as well throw it in the trash.”
“I’m going to throttle that merchant that convinced me otherwise. But first I need a glass of wine. Or possibly several of Rhysand’s nicest bottles.”
The days leading up to Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony were proving to be—if Lucien were being perfectly honest—quite hellish.
He had been invited to spend the several days leading up to the event in Velaris by Feyre, though he wasn’t quite sure why he had eventually accepted the offer. Perhaps the chaos of this hellish nightmare was at least not his problem, such as the state of the fractured Spring Court. It seemed the entire city felt the mating ceremony stress, fixating the land with an uneasy tension; from what he had gathered from Nesta’s intermittent snaps at her family, she desperately wanted it to be perfect.
The Night Court’s High Lady was still recovering from her birth, eagerly attending to her growing son. And wherever the two went, Rhysand was not far behind, a protective shadow permanently stationed behind them. Parenthood was proving to be a true challenge, if the dark circles under their eyes were any indication.
That left everyone else either scrambling to help with preparations or to get out of Nesta’s way.
It was much easier to pretend this was the reason his mate was currently avoiding him.
Lucien also pretended to inspect the assortment of books in the High Lord of Night’s bookshelf as he lingered longer than usual after another uncomfortable dinner. Most members of the party had scattered long ago for their various excuses, but Lucien had not found the nerve yet to leave or retreat back to his lonely apartment.
Perhaps he simply hoped for a chance to catch a glimpse of his mate just once more. He sensed Elain standing in the hallway. He was always aware of her whereabouts, even if she hardly looked his way. As inconspicuous as he could, he sipped on his goblet of wine and casually leaned back to peer into the hallway—one glimpse and then he would finally leave. That was all he needed to appease the mating bond’s aching throb reverberating through his chest.
And then he would be on his way home. Alone.
What exactly he had been hoping to find he wasn’t quite sure, but he certainly hadn’t expected to find her reaching inside the hallway’s waste bin by the front door.
Elain stood back up holding a sparkling, intricate golden necklace. The emerald jewels gleamed like phosphorescent lights. Tiny diamonds bracketed each deep, green emerald. It was the kind of piece he remembered noble females of the Autumn Court donning to signature events—the dazzling pieces of jewelry that were reminiscent of an evergreen forest.
He realized he had been staring when Elain suddenly noticed him and gave him a sheepish, embarrassed smile at being caught. She did not scorn him or shoo him, so he did not look away.
Like a moth to the flame, he was suddenly pulled into her orbit, unable to stop his feet from nearing her. But as he approached, his attention on her stunning smile shifted to the necklace again.
Lucien’s mechanical eye whirred more frantically and erratically at the emerald jeweled necklace than he could ever recall in his long, immortal lifespan. It wasn’t just an ordinary, eye-catching piece of jewelry as he had first imagined. It was thrumming and covered in a spiderweb of spells detected through the golden orb of his scarred eye; through his russet eye, he could see it sit plainly as any other piece of jewelry would in Elain’s small hand.
This necklace had been spelled with very, very dark magic. It was a wonder no one else noticed.
“Who could throw such a thing away?” Elain’s soft voice asked, more to herself than anything.
Either way, Lucien wasn’t used to her asking questions of him. He wasn’t used to the pleasantry of conversations with his mate at all. Yet it wasn’t the usual nerves churning in his stomach.
“Lady, you really shouldn’t touch that,” Lucien cleared his throat, nervously stepping toward her. “I have a bad feeling about—”
He watched in horror as Elain looked into the hallway mirror and held it up in the air as if to place it upon her perfect neck.
“No!” He couldn’t restrain himself. He couldn’t let such a wretched item touch her. It reeked of curses and ancient spells. To hell with manners and their long-standing history of stilted, distant propriety.
Instinct had him lurch forward, reaching for her shoulder to prevent her from putting it on.
When his hand found her skin, the last thing he saw was her reflection in the mirror—wide, surprised brown eyes staring right at him and her gaping mouth parted as if to shout his name.
He never did hear her shout it.
The buzz of unfamiliar, tingling magic encapsulated them both, starting from the necklace itself, then traveled up her delicate arm to the place his fingertips joined her shoulder. A gold dusting spread all along their bodies. As it happened, it seemed to grip them both in place from where they stood and breathed—not a single hair on their heads even moved. A single heartbeat later and the magic released them.
Lucien went tumbling back, careening into a coat rack. From the loud crash he heard, the force must have also sent Elain falling backwards. The necklace clattered on the spot where they had just stood, its magic no longer emanating, leaving it seemingly ordinary and lifeless.
“What just happened?”
Lucien heard his shaky voice ask.
Only he had not spoken. He had not even opened his mouth.
Pushing himself up on his elbows, he snapped his head up. Wide, mismatched orbs met his gaze from across the floor. His eyes met him. That was his molten red hair spilling on the floor as his body pushed itself up to a sitting position. Panic surged through him, extinguishing his inner fire like a bucket of ice cold water. Lucien nearly broke his neck to look down at himself because what the actual fuck—
Those were definitely Elain’s breasts where his chest was supposed to be located. He wasn’t too proud to admit he did in fact know what they looked like even if they had barely made eye contact the past few years. By the gods, he wasn’t a blind male. Her long locks of curled hair came into his view and her thin, uncalloused hands trembled as he tried to breathe.
He clumsily jumped to his feet, not used to the lightness of her petite frame. Elain did the same as they both peered into the hanging mirror in the hallway at the same time. His mate’s face was staring back at him. He touched his face with the hesitant pad of his fingertips. No scarred skin. Only perfect, silky smooth skin. Next to him, Elain did the same, her now large, broad hands slapping his cheeks, like this was just a bad dream and she simply needed to wake up.
He was inside Elain’s body.
And not in a good way.
Which meant Elain was inside him—
The loudest, most blood-curdling scream pierced the hallway. Elain was screaming in horror, through his voice. Lucien had never heard himself sound so terrified before, and he certainly hadn’t known his voice could reach such a high octave in range.
Elain held his hair in her hands as if it were the most offensive creature to ever touch her. His own heart was thundering in his chest. Well, technically it was Elain’s chest. It felt as if he couldn’t find the air because these lungs did not belong to him. The unsettling realization made the room spin.
Oh, Cauldron boil him.
They had switched bodies.
“We cannot let anyone know what just happened. Nesta will explode. Likely murder us both if we even slightly ruin her mating ceremony. I also don’t think Feyre and Rhysand have the capacity to help right now—they’re so tired and I don’t want to bother them—and not to mention the small facet that Rhysand slightly scares me—”
“Elain, I understand. They won’t find out. We will figure this out.”
“How?” They both stared at the necklace on the floor. Lucien bent down to scoop it up.
“We will likely need this. I will reach out to some connections I know well-versed in spellwork and old magic like this one. But first we should get some rest before we draw any further attention.”
“You can’t possibly think you’re leaving right now.”
“Why is that—”
Oh, understanding flooded him.
“You don’t trust me to sleep on my own?” Lucien gestured to himself, though it was Elain’s hand pressed incredulously upon her chest. He drew it away instantly to his sides when he saw Elain’s indignant, withering stare at what he had brushed upon.
“It’s my body, why should I trust you?” Elain snapped back at him. She had twisted his male face into something…pouty. A flustered, worked-up Elain was rather adorable, even if he was staring at his own blushing features.
“Why?” Lucien cocked his head up at her. He wasn’t used to having to look upward to converse with others. His mate was much shorter than he had realized. “Are you worried about all the scandalous, provocative things your mate will do to it once I’m alone with it?”
She sputtered at his implications. Lucien poked one of his dainty fingers on Elain’s firm chest.
“Perhaps I should be worried about what you’ll do when you get your paws on my body tonight.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Lucien,” Elain placed her fisted hands on her hips.
He wanted to laugh at the image of himself. Hands-on-hips, pouting, and practically stomping his foot.
But he also had to remember how absurd the situation was, especially to someone less familiar with the boundless mischief of magic.
Lucien sighed. “We could both spend the night at my apartment in Velaris. At least to discuss our plan further and get some rest. And since you apparently don’t trust me, you can keep an eye on me. It’s probably wiser if we don’t separate, otherwise we risk the others finding out.”
Relief floated over her features. Elain nodded, pleased with the plan.
“We’ll need a cover story,” she said with a grimace.
“I suppose it would be incredibly suspicious for the mates who have never held a singular conversation alone to be spending the night together.”
Elain flinched. He watched the way his mangled scar crinkled on her face with the gesture, causing him to deepen his already frowning mouth. He almost felt guilty for dealing such a blow, since it was unspokenly her wariness that had rooted them in such a predicament of awkward distance, but if they were going to finally speak then he would only speak in honest words at the opportunity.
“We are going to let everyone know you are courting me,” Elain announced her plan slowly.
“Courting,” Lucien repeated. It was an incredulous chortle that came out of his newly acquired female body with a very indelicate snort.
She glared at him in response. With his features, it was almost intimidating.
With a sigh, he clenched his teeth and squeezed the necklace using Elain’s small hands. “I’m not sure it would be believable. The Fae aren’t partial to such a human practice and I’m not exactly known for courting.”
Elain’s hands balled into fists, then she crossed her arms at the chest, then uncrossed them. It was clear she was uncomfortable in his body—he wondered if she could not stand to be in his skin and trapped in his detestable form. He had chosen to move as little as possible. The less he did, the less aware he was of Elain’s perfect form. Her scent was now inescapable. The sound of her heartbeat echoing wildly and the mere proximity of her curves and body was going to drive him insane. This was truly a nightmare. A cruel, cruel fate had decided to make him the punchline of what would only make his mate truly hate him forever.
She settled on placing two hands on her hips.
“Despite your reputation, you would do it for your mate, would you not?”
He would. He would have done it in a heartbeat. Was it possible she had wanted to be courted all this time? His mind raced over every possible indication or clue he may have overlooked over the years—
Elain raised an expecting, waiting auburn eyebrow.
“Yes,” he told her, nodding his head finally, feeling the brush of her soft curls on his shoulders. “Of course, I would.”
There was a flash of something unreadable on Elain’s face. He chose to not lose his mind trying to decipher it. Lucien clutched the necklace and attempted to place it in his pocket, only he could not find a damn pocket anywhere. Did all females dress like this? How terribly inconvenient and unfair.
Looking up, he took a tentative step forward, a thought striking him.
“Though you do realize that it will be you courting me in this scenario,” he dipped his head pointedly at his body that she currently possessed. “Since you are currently…inside of me.”
Mother above, spare him. Lucien wanted to die on the spot.
From his understanding of human culture, it was the male who courted the female. Or rather, the man who courted the woman. At least that was how Vassa and Jurian had explained it to him in the past—and as Graysen had made sure to remind him whenever he spent time in the human lands.
Elain, it seemed, had forgotten this rather important fact. She blanched at the reminder.
“I’m positive we can find another excuse for our time together if that is neither comfortable or feasible for you—”
“I—I can manage it!” She snapped. Lucien shut his mouth into a tight line to prevent an amused smirk from forming at the sound of his voice cracking in embarrassment.
“I’ve been courted many times before,” she insisted, then made sure to amend quickly when she saw his lips quirk upward. “When I was a human, that is. It is not an impossible task. In fact, I know I can manage to portray a respectful, believable courtship.”
“Because you are an expert at courtship, Lady.”
The formality accidentally slipped out due to the habit he had formed since first meeting his mate. The way his tongue pushed off his teeth pronounced it more bitingly than usual—but he could only blame the bond for its sharpness. Despite switching bodies, their tether still tugged relentlessly upon his ribcage in a never ending ache.
“You will have to work on that, Lady Elain,” she said in what he could have sworn was a challenging tone, “If you want this courtship to work.”
“It will. And we will figure out how to get our bodies back, I swear it,” he glanced down at the necklace, then back at her with his own challenge. “Lord Lucien.”
Elain’s mouth dropped into a disgruntled ‘O’ shape.
“Don’t you dare say that in front of my sisters! They would never let me live such a thing down.”
“Then don’t tempt me.”
For a moment, they smiled effortlessly at each other. But their mirrored smiles faded just as quickly, as if the action itself was a reminder of their current predicament. The ease at which they playfully conversed was fleeting; it could not be forgotten they were stuck inside each other's bodies with no known way of getting back to normal. Lucien cleared his throat and awkwardly extended an empty hand out.
“We should get going before we run into anyone. I can—” Before Lucien could explain he was going to attempt winnowing in Elain’s body, a small figure appeared in the doorway.
“What are you two doing?”
It was fucking Cassian of all people.
His massive Illyrian body took up most of the open door. His wings fluttered shut, shaking off the cool night from where he had flown through the dark skies for his patrol. The grin growing on his face was exceptionally delighted and devious—a look he realized he did not appreciate on Cassian. He seemed to make no intention of moving out of the way until an appropriate answer was given.
Both he and Elain gave each other a long, sideways glance with wide eyes, unable to even stumble out a response.
“Uh oh,” Cassian’s grin was entirely made up of gleaming teeth as he evaluated them both. He gave a loud, dramatic gasp. It was bursting with childlike eagerness.“Did I interrupt you two sneaking around?”
“No!” Elain blurted out. Cassian blinked in amusement at her. Then, as if remembering she was not speaking as her usual self, amended her acting quickly by straightening her broad shoulders and dropping her voice to an obscenely deep octave that was completely unnatural and made Lucien want to wither away with embarrassment for his inevitably doomed reputation. “We are not sneaking around. I am courting Lady Elain.”
“Is that so? I didn’t realize courting meant leaving the house at such a late hour.” If Cassian’s grin got any bigger on his face, Lucien was going to have to punch it with his tiny, ineffective fists.
“I’m a grown female,” Lucien said curtly, hiding the necklace clutched in his hand along the folds of Elain’s skirts. “The last I remembered, I am not under any High Lord’s curfew or guidance for my whereabouts. If I wish to go to his apartment, I am free to do so without any issue.”
The grin faltered on Cassian’s face in surprise. Even Elain looked shocked at his words. He couldn’t tell if she was incensed or impressed by what he had said. He simply had spoken it because it was true. Clearly she did not stand up for herself often or else they wouldn’t be staring at him as if Elain had sprouted a second head.
“Y-You’re right, Lainey.”
Elain’s jaw dropped open as Cassian gave Lucien—or rather, who he believed was Elain—an apologetic smile. He moved out of the way of the door frame to allow them space to leave.
“Keep her safe or I’ll be sure to kill you painfully and slowly, Little Lucien.” As Elain moved toward the door, Cassian slapped her hard on the back in what could only be interpreted as both an amicable yet threatening gesture against who he assumed was Lucien.
He grimaced as it sent Elain flying forward, face first right into the doorframe of the front door.
“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian chuckled smugly.
Elain gave a vague gesture toward Lucien’s mechanical eye. “Having some trouble with this thing and it’s throwing off my balance, that’s all.”
Lucien recognized the uncomfortable smile she flashed the Illyrian. Was it possible Elain truly could not see out of his reconstructed eye? He hadn’t considered the possibility she would be affected by his shortcomings and without his magic, who knows what she felt or lacked. Worry sank deep inside his gut but there was nothing he could do without revealing anything strange. Cassian may play the brute’s role well, but he was a clever General.
“Don’t worry, I was nervous the first time with my mate too,” Cassian playfully muttered to Lucien’s body, but it was Elain who turned a warm, glowing red beneath his tan skin at the implication.
“Time to go!” Lucien called out, rushing by both male frames with surprising ease. Elain’s lithe body moved lightly on her feet.
The door slammed shut behind them, finally removing them from Cassian’s watchful stare. Finally. Lucien and Elain let out a collective sigh before he snatched her hand, flashing her a pointed look that spelled out let’s get the fuck out of here.
It took a moment to reorient the well of magic inside him. It was still his own, as if transferred with his soul and mind inside of his mate’s body. It was all a bit disorganized in this new form, which meant he could feel Elain staring at their joined hands for several long moments before he was able to push through and winnow them both inside his Velaris apartment across the city.
As soon as they crossed the threshold of the apartment, they snatched their hands quickly away.
“Lucien,” Elain whispered, sounding unusually hoarse, “What are we going to do?”
He swallowed, feeling light headed from the horrifying reality of their situation. He placed the necklace on the mantle of the nearby fireplace before turning to face her once more.
“We will figure this out. I will write some letters immediately for help. Do not fret, Elain.”
“No, Lucien,” Elain sighed with exasperation, “I was speaking about our clothes.”