A Court of Light and Darkness

Thirty-Two: Azriel

He had woken utterly confused. The cold stone floor bit into his skin as he laid there, trying to wrap his head around what had happened.

He was walking Freesia, Celeste, back to her cell... and the guard... the guard!

Azriel jumped to his feet as soon as his memories came flooding back to him. They were gone. They had escaped. Why hadn't his shadows warned him? He didn't have time to ask those questions right now, he had to get to Rhysand and alert him before they got to him.

Azriel had sent his shadows up to Rhysand, making sure him and the rest of the Inner Circle that were with him were okay. But what they had reported back was the opposite of what he had hoped for. 

Celeste and her friends were already to them, telling them they had Azriel to keep them from acting against them. The rage built up in Azriel as he listened to his shadows, trying to find the best way to intervene. Celeste was getting on his last nerve.

He paced the space, planning as he listened to everything being said in the office above him. But he was stopped short of his scheming as a voice came from the doorway leading up to the main floor. 

"Shadowsinger. I did not expect to find you down here. And with all three captives missing. What a bad day you are having." Azriel whipped his head around to find Beron leaning against the door frame, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

"What do you want, Beron?" Azriel spat, glaring at the High Lord. 

"You have something of mine, or should I say someone." Beron straightened, walking towards Azriel as he placed his hands in the pockets of his wrinkle free dress pants. Azriel growled, making Beron stop his movements. 

"She is not yours and certainly never was. You will never see her again if she wishes it and believe me when I tell you, she certainly does." Azriel snarled, his words barley understandable through his rage.

"Enough with the dramatics, Spymaster. She is more trouble then she's worth so do not get in my way. For the sake of yourself and your court." Beron tested as he backed towards the door way. Something in Azriel snapped at that, at how Beron spoke of his mate. 

He lunged, landing on top of the High Lord and taking him to the ground. They rolled before Azriel was on top of him, throwing punch after punch to his head, making him squirm underneath and bark in protest.

Beron might be a High Lord, but he couldn't take on a Illyrian Warrior and Shadowsinger. Beron threw his fire out rapidly, missing Azriel as he kept his pace in pounding at his face. Beron's eye was black, his lips busted and bloody as he gasped for air, but Azriel kept going, too lost in his rage to care if the male lived or not.

But before Azriel could finish the job, damning all consequences to come after killing a High Lord, Beron winnowed out from underneath him, disappearing  from the room completely. Azriel's shadows told him Beron was no longer in the Court of Nightmares, and he could only assume the coward retreated to his own court.

Azriel's hands ached as he looked down to find them bloodied and bruised. But the Shadowsinger only took satisfaction of knowing who's blood covered his scarred hands. He shook his head, breathing in deeply to calm his anger before getting back to his plan to-

Oh fuck it. 

Azriel winnowed without hesitation, right into the middle of Rhys's office. Which was as good as a battle field as Azriel beheld the chaos occurring before him. His eyes locked onto Celeste's as he materialized in front of her. 

But as Azriel looked into her eyes, he did not see the impostor controlling her body, no. He saw her. He saw Freesia. And it only made his blood boil even more.