27. Inescapable

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The artwork above is not mine.

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    They reached Windhaven in no time at all. Jorah was first to break away from the group. "I'm going to gather the Ironcrest warriors here," she called over her shoulder.

    "I'll help her," Cassian said. He chased after Jorah.

    "What should we do?" Gwyn asked, stepping closer to Azriel.

    "Spread the word," Azriel instructed. "I'll inform Devlon about what's happening. He, Cassian, Rhys, and I will be in command during the attack. Make sure you listen for orders. Help one another."

    Emerie and Gwyn nodded before darting away. Azriel strode through the camp. The shadows pulled him towards the training rings. He found Devlon there, running through several forms. Devlon straightened and pulled a shirt over his damp body.

    "What are you doing here?" He asked. "I thought you had important Night Court business to attend to."

    "Erebus is coming," Azriel said, ignoring the comment. "I imagine my half brothers and Kallon will be leading his forces. We might not have much time."

    "Are you the only one who came?" Devlon asked, already walking back to his hut.

    "Cassian and Jorah are here. We brought Gwyneth Berdara and Emerie, two of Nesta Archeron's fellow Valkyries. Rhys, Feyre, Amren, Mor, Lucien, Nesta, and Elain will be coming soon."

    "Bring all of Prythian, why don't you?" Devlon huffed. "I imagine you're already preparing the camp?"

    "I sent Gwyn and Emerie to spread the word. Cassian and Jorah are gathering the Ironcrest warriors."

    Devlon halted abruptly in his doorway. "No female Illyrian has given orders in battle. I hope she doesn't think that's about to change."

    "It is about to change, Devlon. Get used to the idea," Azriel snapped. Devlon slammed the door shut.

    "Prick," Jorah hissed behind him. Azriel turned and she tossed him a sword. He caught it, buckling the sheath over his shoulder and in between his wings. "They're getting ready. Cassian is helping Emerie and Gwyn with the Windhaven warriors now."

    "Good. Come with me."

    "Where are we going?" She took his outstretched hand.

    "We're going to check on Erebus' position." Azriel walked through the shadows, taking Jorah with him.

    They arrived a short distance from the Ironcrest war camp. The Illyrians hadn't taken off yet. Kallon stood near Erebus while Osiris and Seker organized the warriors. Shadows covered Azriel and Jorah, keeping them hidden from sight.

    "Are you sure about this?" One warrior asked. "We can't attack our own."

    "They are not our own," Kallon snarled. "They betrayed us when they chose to leave with Rhysand's bastards."

    "My brother went with them. Am I expected to kill him?"

    Osiris moved in front of the warrior, his gold eyes dark with apprehension. "Yes, you are."

    "I can't kill my brother," the warrior said, his voice shaking.

    "Then you are no Illyrian warrior." With a flash of steel, Osiris slit the warrior's throat. His hands flew to his neck and blood pooled around his fingers. The warrior collapsed and Osiris sheathed his blade. "There is no room for hesitation anymore!" His voice carried over the crowd. "You fly with us or you die with them. Make your choice." He looked to Erebus.

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