THE WINTER COURT
It was too dangerous to work the horses outside, so Hollis began exercising Winter in the building near the stables. It was still cold, but the shelter protected them against the wind. Perched on his saddle, Hollis Winter felt warmth enough to warm her muscles but not so much that she would strain.
"Good girl," Hollis said, patting her neck lightly as they trotted around the worn, oblong track. Bran and Caspian stood on the outskirts, their wings tucked tightly against their backs to keep warm. The structure was solid, but he could hear the whistling wind outside.
Each day seemed to grow colder, and Hollis delivered more care packages with every blustery storm. How much longer would they last? The mortals were more susceptible to the chill—the elderly and the children. What more could he do to help them? His eyebrow furrowed, lost in thought; he almost didn't see his father and Rhysand standing in the now open doorway.
Slowing to a halt, dread swelled in his chest at their stoic expressions. Hollis trotted toward them and swiftly dismounted.
"Nice to see you, Hollis." Rhysand offered a kind smile, but Hollis knew better than to assume he was here for a casual visit. It wasn't rare to find someone from the Inner Circle of the Night Court prowling around the city, but they seldom sought him out.
Hollis nodded politely. "Is something wrong?"
Is Nova okay…
Pursing his lips, Rhys glanced at Kallias, who nodded, "We've come to a temporary solution to protect members of our Court. Beginning in three days' time, those who are too weak to stay will be housed in Velaris. Just until we can find a more permanent solution."
Hollis nodded, and a twinge of relief soothed the worried ache in his heart. If half the population, even less than half, were to migrate to another location, they'd have more resources to share.
"I'd like you to go with them," his father said.
Blinking rapidly, Hollis was confident his heart had stopped. "Why?" It wasn't like him to question his father, but he did so now. How could he help his people against the storms and starvation if he weren't here?
Assessing his son for a moment, Kallias answered, "Because your mother and I must remain here, and our people are traveling to new lands, and they will be frightened. They trust you, just as I do."
The weight of their faith in him was like stone against brittle bone, but Hollis couldn't crack. He couldn't allow himself to splinter. This day had always been on the horizon, where he'd take on more serious responsibility. Yes, how he's helped his Court these past years has been of importance, but he'd always had his parents at his side to guide him.
Tomorrow, many of their people would follow him into new lands, and they would look to him at the helm.
Swallowing the bile at the back of his throat, Hollis kept a placid expression, nodded, and said, "I would be honored to guide our people."
With a fond smile, Kallias squeezed his shoulder. "Hollis, trust yourself as much as we do." He released his hold as Rhysand offered a small, tight smile before they vacated the riding arena. Glancing over his shoulder, Hollis depicted relief on Bran and Caspian's faces. He couldn't blame them- while he was leaving his home, they'd be returning to theirs. Hollis only wished he felt what they felt rather than rolling nausea.
It didn't take long to put Winter into her stall, clean off her coat, and offer a few well-earned carrots. He frowned as he looked up at her; she'd likely stay here and be cared for by another stablehand in his absence. Stroking her muzzle gently, he offered another carrot, "I suppose this will be goodbye for a while. Will you miss me at all?"
Winter nuzzled the side of his neck and tried to nibble his hair. Chuckling, Hollis nodded, "Hm. Yes, I'll miss you, too."
Hollis walked a little slower than usual back to the palace despite the bite of the wind. When would he see his home again? The ache that settled behind his eyes threatened tears he didn't want to shed. Not in front of others, at least.
He didn't stop to talk to anyone on his way to his room. Should he feel this distraught about leaving? It was the only home he had ever known. In ten years, he hadn't left its boundaries. All this time, he had silently longed to cross the borders and visit new lands, but now that the opportunity had finally arrived, he would rather bathe in the same frigid river as an ice bear. The idea of freedom, once so liberating, now felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire.
What Hollis thought he wanted all these years now filled him with uncertainty.
Closing the door of his chambers behind him, Hollis leaned against the frame. Shutting his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. The need to chase away the bombarding thoughts with a bottle sent a pinching shudder through his chest.
Hollis quickly pressed his fingers against his temples. It wasn't yet eleven o'clock in the morning. He couldn't. Not yet, he had to wait, but how could he? With the rising panic, the overwhelming sensation of rushing water filled his ears, and with it, he was pulled into a memory.
SEVEN YEARS AGO
It was near midnight, and Hollis had a mission.
From his bed, he watched Ansel's chest steadily rise and fall in his propped chair across the room. It wasn't unusual for Hollis to wake in the night to find a massive Illyrian soldier slumbering in the corner. Usually, he would roll over and try to go back to sleep, but Hollis had no intention of sleeping tonight. It had been ages since he'd been without the company of a chaperone, and of all the days he wanted to spend alone with his friends, it was his eighteenth birthday.
Hollis had never been one to break the rules. He did as he was told—said please and thank you, conducted himself as a young Prince should—but tonight, he wanted something else. Just one experience that wasn't his usual rule-abiding self.
As both hands on the clock joined together to point up, Hollis slowly pulled back his gray comforter without taking his eyes off Ansel's sleeping form. He was grateful it was the younger Illyrian in here tonight. If it had been Cassian or Azriel, he'd likely have been caught before he even attempted the escape.
Hollis turned in bed and set his feet on the glossy wooden floor. It was colder than usual tonight, but he didn't risk the time it would take to slip his socks on as he toed across the room and to the door. It opened without a creak. He smiled and slowly poked his head out into the hall. Hollis peered in both directions down the vacant hall. The palace had never been so quiet. Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, he crept along the rug, using it as a buffer to soften his approach toward the kitchens.
The hearth, containing only ash from the day, made the room much colder than his own chambers. Still, he smiled as he reached for the back door leading to the gardens and inched it open.
Nieve and Kole stood hunched on the other side. They wore mischievous grins as they shuffled forward. Holding a finger to his lips, Hollis nodded to his right and led the way from the kitchens to the passageway he'd taken often as a child. They moved with careful stealth through the narrow, twisting hall until they finally reached the room of aging antiques. The last time Hollis had entered this room, he'd left it in a hurry as Nova sobbed, grieving the loss of an ice bear.
"Scary," Nieve smirked up at the encased bear before settling on one of the dusty chairs by the window. "How drunk would you like to be, birthday boy? Tipsy or shit-faced?"
Hollis smiled as he sat on the floor, leaning against a collection of music players. The piano he used to play every evening sat in the next room; its yellowing keys had been left untouched for years.
Kole sat next to Hollis, "We both know the fine crowned prince of the Winter Court wasn't serious about having fun," he smirked at Hollis, "He's unfamiliar with the term."
Rolling his head, Hollis leaned his head back. "I know what fun is…" He trailed off, though he knew as well as anyone it had been an elusive concept over the years.
It was difficult to have 'fun' with your friends with two Illyrian bodyguards breathing down your neck. Often, Nieve and Kole would find others in the Court to do things Hollis always wished he could. Like attending the forest bonfires where everyone drank, at least one person was caught getting railed against a tree. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to participate, but he'd at least like to be included.
Nieve shrugged as she pulled out a bottle of amber liquid. He watched its contents slosh against the thick, warped glass. Many things had changed over the years, but Nieve and Kole had somehow been immune. While Hollis' freedoms were restricted a little more each day, they were always ready to reach through the bars, even if it meant the possibility of his father's wrath.
"Well," Nieve smirked, "You managed to escape the insanely attractive but grumpy Illyrians. Celebrate a little." She slid the bottle toward him and Hollis caught it by its slender neck.
Lifting the bottle, looking at the liquid, he pursed his lips. Was this a good idea? He'd had a bit of wine occasionally, but that was only during Solstice, and lately, his parents had been diligent in keeping him from having any of it. It was strange to watch others his age indulge in a drink or two, only to be told 'no.'
Hollis always did as he was told.
But not tonight.
Spinning off the cap, he took a long swig but immediately coughed from the burning tickle in his throat.
Kole and Nieve snorted, covering their mouths as they watched their friend half-drown from one sip. "Don't choke," Kol grinned snowy-white teeth as Hollis sputtered, but his inability to breathe without it burning his eyes sent him into a chorus of strangled cackles.
Without hesitation, Kole snatched the bottle. "Watch and learn, Princling." He took a sip, swished it in his mouth, and easily swallowed.
"Give it here," Nieve grinned, and they passed the bottle around, each taking sips that sent them into coughing, giggle fits.
As the bottle landed in Hollis' lap for the fourth time, he drank deeper and let the burn of his throat pull him to a different location in his mind. The warmth in his chest and belly chased away the worries and fears he'd harbored since attending that first meeting at the Spring Court.
Oh, the relief…it felt so good.
Euphoric.
Hollis leaned his head back and sighed.
"Feel better?" Kole asked, raising a brow and chuckling.
"Hm," Hollis murmured in a soft hum as the crackle of anxious and troubled thoughts ebbed away with each sip. "So much better…"
Hollis opened his eyes and straightened his posture by taking a deep breath through his nose.
I just want to feel better.
A few sips won't hurt.
The warmth he couldn't find anywhere else, Hollis knew he could find at the bottom of a bottle.
Tearing through his chamber, he pushed into his bathroom and crouched to retrieve the liquor, but as he pulled it out with a sharp clank against the metal pipe beneath, he stared at its contents.
Hollis sat back on his heels and stared at the inch he had left inside. With his eyebrows pulled together, he swallowed dryly, "Please, no…"
How much had he had last night? He couldn't remember.
The image of his father's locked cabinet in his study appeared in his mind. That was something he couldn't attempt.
Not again.
FIVE YEARS AGO
Hollis paced back and forth across his room, his hand pressed firmly against his chest as he felt his heart race while he breathed laboriously.
They're all going to die. There's nothing you can do. It's all your fault.
Why couldn't you have stopped this?
You are useless.
His fingers trailed up and clutched the roots of his hair as he pressed his forehead against the wall. Hollis pinched his eyes shut, willing the thoughts to leave him.
Begging for a moment of peace.
Hollis raked his nails down the sides of his face and neck, leaving welting red marks in their wake. He'd run out of the bottle Nieve had gifted him a few days ago, but it was worse tonight. So much worse.
Glancing at the door of his bed chambers, Hollis swallowed as he recalled the many times he'd witnessed his father set his bottles of wine in the cupboard. Certainly, he wouldn't notice one measly bottle go missing, would he? Glowering at the door, he quickly set forward and made his way out of his rooms and toward his father's private study.
The day had waned into the evening twilight, but the palace halls were still busy as staff finished last-minute tasks. Forcing tight smiles and trying not to appear as disheveled as he felt, but continued glancing over his shoulder in case his mother or father was nearby. In case an Illyrian warrior realized he was no longer on his floor. Swiftly, he pulled the door open to his father's office, which was on the far left of the third floor. It overlooked the gardens; his own chambers were three floors above where he stood now.
Hollis gingerly closed the oak door behind him and looked around. The space had already been cleaned, and the likelihood of his father returning tonight was slim. Acting quickly, he crossed the small room, which had luxurious silver and gold carpet over dark wood floors and slipped behind the mammoth of a working desk.
On it, was a sprawled map of Pyrthian.
Stopping short of the cabinet beyond the desk, Hollis looked down at the map. Red ink x's littered the map, beginning at the bottom of the mortal lands and creeping North. His brows knitted together as he stared at the map.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the cabinet and looked at the locks. Keys, where were the keys? Fruitlessly opening one drawer after another, Hollis finally reached beneath the desk and pulled the nearly invisible compartment – one he'd watched his father open before – and inside was a set of jangling keys. He grinned and picked them up before turning to turn the key into the lock, but as he did, the door to the study swung open, and a pair of footsteps stopped at the entrance.
"Hollis, what are you…" His father's voice trailed off as Hollis slowly turned to see him standing with a rigid scowl on his features, but it wasn't until Hollis glanced down at the map on the desk that Kallias slammed the door behind him.
Hollis jumped but kept his stance steady as he slowly turned to face his father with a clenched jaw. He narrowed his eyes and asked, "You're looking for her, aren't you?"
His father walked toward him, stopping on the other side of the desk where he perched his palms to steady a gaze on his son. His eyes flitted down, and he looked at the bottle of wine in his grasp. "I thought I was very clear when I said you are not to drink anymore. It impairs your judgment, and if another Court attacks, you cannot be vulnerable."
Hollis placed his pointer finger on the map, "You told Feyre and Rhysand you understood why they won't tell you Nova's location."
Swallowing, Kallias ground his teeth before nodding. "I did, and I do, but I have my own Court to protect, too," he lowered his voice, "I have my own child to protect." He stared at the bottle in his son's hand as Hollis watched him apprehensively. Finally, he nodded and quietly said, "Enjoy it. It will be your last."
Hollis released a shaking breath as he slowly walked around the desk and toward the door, clutching the bottle as if it were a precious lifeline. He glanced over his shoulder to find Kallias surveying him as he departed.
The next morning, every bottle of wine and liquor in the palace was destroyed.
Kallias never spoke of Hollis stealing from his cabinet, and Hollis never mentioned the map he saw that night. Since then, he'd been so careful when and where he drank. Nieve and Kole, unaware of what they were feeding, occasionally smuggled a bottle or two every couple of months. He tried to make them last and savor the warmth and relief they brought on the hardest nights, but lately, every night was hard.
Still sitting on his bathroom tile, Hollis stared at the empty remains of his lifeline and set it to the side before rubbing his eyes. The temptation to throw it clawed at the surface, but that would send Bran and Caspian in to investigate. He rubbed his temples and let out a shaky breath.
"Just go away…" Hollis whispered, smacking his forehead. The subtle sting and sudden whirr in his ears brought a painful yet somehow pleasant dizzy sensation. Leaning his head back, he stared ahead at the trove of towels and toilet paper before slowly looking down at his hand. Experimentally, he pinched his palm, and a fresh wave of stinging pain sent a ripple through his mind.
Biting his lip, he let the idea roll around in his head before he slowly stood to his feet, left the bathroom, and looked around. The fire roaring in the hearth of his bed chambers called to him, and an exhilarating sensation filled him.
Maybe he could get by without a drink if he found another way to distract himself.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Hollis ventured closer to the fireplace and kneeled. He picked up the poker, leaned against the wood pile to the right, and set it carefully over the burning wood. He watched the flames lick over the iron, heart pounding with anticipation before looking down at himself.
Where would be the best spot? He couldn't risk drawing attention to it, so somewhere that wasn't noticeable. With shaking fingers, Hollis unzipped his pants and inched his pants down. He hesitated before following the action with his underwear and watched as his cock sprang free.
Was the idea of causing himself pain turning him on?
Clenching his jaw, he breathed through his nose and picked up the poker by the handle. He waited and watched the red of the tool slowly diminish. It was still hot, of course, but he didn't want it to cool too much.
Hollis looked down at himself and spread his legs. Swallowing, he held the poker handle with sweaty palms before pressing the hot iron against the soft flesh of his inner thighs.
Sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth, Hollis dropped the poker to the brick with a resonating clatter and fell backward as white-hot pain seared his skin. Pinching his eyes closed, he willed himself to stay quiet as the stinging throb laced like venom, sending pulses of adrenaline through his veins. It was different than the warmth of drinking or the relief of masturbating under scalding water, but it was relief all the same as his thoughts focused on the pain.
Hollis could spiral out of existence as the sensation of the burn infiltrated every crevice of his mind.
He let it.