A Court of War and Sacrifice

35. Debates and Accusations

The artwork above is not mine.

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    The next five days passed in tense slowness. There was no sign of Koschei or the Vanth. Erebus' Illyrians had disappeared as well. Not even the shadows could learn any information regarding their whereabouts. Azriel dropped into a chair with a weary sigh and massaged his temples.

    "The meeting is tomorrow." Rhys leaned against the fireplace mantle across the room. "I invited everyone but Beron and Tamlin. Keir won't accompany our group, but Devlon and Jorah will. So will Gwyn and Emerie. I still don't trust Keir enough to let him see our plans. We'll make sure to ward the meeting room. Drakon and Miryam promised to attend and still plan to. I'm not sure who the other High Lords will bring."

    "I'm sure Thesan will bring his Peregryn general," Cassian said.

    "Kallias will bring Viviane," Azriel murmured.

    "Did you manage to tell Eris about this meeting?"

    Rhys shook his head. "I planned to tell him at our next meeting with him, but there hasn't been one. I can't send a note because Beron might find it. Beron is not welcome at this meeting. We'd be foolish to invite him."

    "And no one can find Tamlin." Cassian crossed his arms. "Let's hope five out of seven High Lords will strengthen our forces enough to hold out against Koschei."

    "We fought the King of Hybern when he had possession of the Cauldron and won."

    "You died," Azriel snapped, lifting his gaze. "Do you remember that, Rhys? Could your departed soul hear how Feyre screamed? You and Amren died. Cassian and Nesta were almost killed. We lost so many and the King of Hybern only had the Cauldron! Koschei has the Cauldron, the Dread Trove, Nesta's weapons, and alliances with the people who were once on our side. This battle will be nothing like the War with Hybern."

    "I'm just trying to be optimistic."

    "Try being realistic instead." Azriel stood and left the room.

    "He's just worried, like all of us," he heard Cassian say.

    Azriel stormed out of the house, shadows drifting over him. The air was cold and a thin layer of snow covered the ground. He leaped into the air and let the wind carry him away from Velaris.

    Azriel flew until he reached a small hidden valley, deep within the mountains. No grass or snowdrops grew in it now, but it was still serene. The small pool was partially frozen over. The stream flowing into it was just a tiny trickle. Come spring, when the mountain snows melted, it would flood over its banks for a week or two. Then, the entire valley would erupt in greenery.

    Azriel sat on a rock and hooked his arms over his knees. He gazed at Ramiel, far in the distance. A few stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly.

    "Seren told me I might find you here," Rhys said, winnowing into view behind him. Azriel didn't look at him. "I know this battle will be rough. That's why I'm trying to be optimistic. If I look at the realities of it, everything becomes hopelessly overwhelming."

    Still, Azriel didn't acknowledge him. "I know the odds are stacked against us, even if the other High Lords agree to fight. Koschei has had hundreds...thousands...of years to study our battle tactics. To find our weaknesses. To learn where to strike and when. He has Prythian's most formidable magical artifacts in his arsenal, to use as he pleases. I know that."