Daisy Blooms - Azriel

Chapter 25

As night fell and no caves revealed themselves, we found ourselves with no other option but to scale a tree, Gwyn revealing how she'd managed to rest while up one: a long stretch of rope. It must have been one of the items Queen Briallyn had the Illyrians leave, presumably for trussing captives or stringing them up or strangling them, and Gwyn had used it to bind herself to the trunk of a tree each night. It was long enough that the three of them, sitting side by side on a massive branch, were able to tie themselves together and to the tree itself.

"Since there's not enough room, I'll just sleep up here." I say and climb up higher. I wish I could use my wings, it would be so much easier to climb this tree. I never was good at climbing trees.

"How'd you avoid the creatures climbing up to eat you?" Emerie asked Gwyn, who was wedged between her and Nesta. "They were pulling Illyrians off the branches like apples."

"Maybe because I don't smell like an Illyrian," Gwyn said, frowning at her clothes. "Despite these." She nodded to Nesta. "You don't, either."

"And Daisy looks like the opposite of an Illyrian, so she probably smells different. Each court usually has a different smell." Gwyn adds.

"If we're lucky, our scents will mask Emerie's."

"Perhaps" Nesta said, voice quieting as the night deepened. The snow had finally stopped hours ago, and even the whipping wind had eased. A small miracle.

Gwyn peered forward to look at Emerie. "How much do you know about the Rite?"

Emerie tucked her hands under her armpits for warmth. "A good amount. My father and brother-and my horrid cousins- talked about it endlessly. Any family gathering, all the males told and retold their oh-so-glorious tales from their own Rites. How many they killed, the beasts they escaped. None of them ever made it to Ramiel, though." Emerie nodded to Nesta. "They always hated that about Cassian. And Rhysand and Azriel. They hated that the three of them made it to the very top and won the whole thing."

"Well, we will do it too. I wonder how your cousin's going to spin the story about how he got stabbed in the eye. Maybe he'll say that a horrible beast did it." I ask.

"The mountain is that hard to climb?" Gwyn asked, voice hushed. Emerie grunted. "Hard to reach; harder to climb. It's covered in jagged rock that slices you up like a cheese grater."

"And with our healing slowed to a human rate thanks to the rules of the Rite," Emerie went on, "we'll be lucky to make it to the Pass of Enalius in one piece."

"What's that?" Nesta asked.

Emerie's eyes shone. "Long ago--so long ago they don't even have a precise date for it - a great war was fought between the Fae and the ancient beings who oppressed them. One of its key battles was here, in these mountains. Our forces were battered and outnumbered, and for some reason, the enemy was desperate to reach the stone at the top of Ramiel. We were never taught the reason why; I think it's been forgotten. But a young Illyrian warrior named Enalius held the line against the enemy soldiers for days. He found a natural archway of stone amongst the tangle of boulders and made that his bottleneck. He died in the end, but he held off the enemy long enough for our allies to reach us. This Rite is all to honor him. So much of the history has been lost, but the memory of his bravery remains."

"I get that he was brave, but some old dead guy is the reason we have to do this?" I ask.

"There are a few different paths to the top of Ramiel," Emerie went on. "But the hardest one, the most infamous, is the one that takes you through the Pass of Enalius. Through the archway of stone. They call that path the breaking."

"Why am I not surprised that's the one Cassian and his brothers took?" Nesta grumbled.

"They are cocky and have to live up to the legend." I add. Emerie and Gwyn look like they can't say anything bad about them.