A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 62 - From Dust

If you know the enemy and know yourself you need not fear the results of a hundred battles.

- Sun Tzu

Song: Warrior - 2WEI

The next series of events happened in a blur. Feyre lunged for Elain, tackling her out of sight. Tamlin shifted into his beast form and charged for Graysen's men. Rhysand grabbed Graysen's neck and slammed him into the earth.

Faebane powder exploded on the front lines of the fae reinforcements and every Illyrian shot into the sky, narrowly avoiding the poison. Meanwhile the Spring and Summer court reinforcements covered their noses and mouths with cloth. It wouldn't stop the effects of faebane but at least it protected their eyes and mouths. At least they could still fight.

Gwyn's eyes shot upward, searching the airborne warriors for Azriel.

"You've as good as killed him," Elain had said.

Well, Elain had also said "The future changes."

And it would. By the gods, Gwyn would make it. She would see that Azriel lived and that Graysen didn't lay a finger on him.

Gwyn's breathing hitched as she spotted Azriel to the far west. Morrigan was in his arms. Beside him was Cassian with Nesta close to his chest, and Emerie hanging from his side. Waiting for the faebane to dissipate below them.

An arrow whizzed past Gwyn's face from the fae side, narrowly missing her ear.

If she was going to die, she wanted to at least be on the right side of the battlefield... That brush with death spurred her into action, and Gwyn charged west towards the slowly fading clouds of blue faebane. Towards the spot beneath Azriel.

Behind her she heard the fall of dozens upon dozens of footsteps. The sharp "twang" of bow strings snapping.

Most of the airborne Illyrians hovered overhead, flying above the masses and raining arrows from the sky.

But they were receiving just as many arrows back. Ones that were tipped in faebane, with barbed heads perfect for burrowing deep in fae flesh.

As Gwyn sprinted across the lawn, males plummeted from above and humans fell to their knees. Soldiers and guards wove around her, blade clashing against blade.

But none of it frightened Gwyn. None of it gave her pause.

Azriel was in danger. Because of her. Because she didn't do as Elain had asked. Because she'd tried to be a hero.

Gwyn risked another glance skyward to see Azriel and Cassian descending, carefully avoiding the lingering faebane but also putting themselves directly in the path of Graysen's charging troops.

Gwyn pumped her legs harder, her shoulder smacking into one of Graysen's guards as she ducked the tip of a short-sword being swung by a Summer Court soldier.

If she could just get to him, she could protect him. She could save him.

Gwyn grasped the thrumming of power in her veins, the speeding beat of her heart, and harnessed it, wrapped—

Gwyn's vision flashed as pain shot through her jaw. Her head swam and she fell to the ground on her shoulder.

Ears ringing, Gwyn opened her eyes and rolled onto her back in time to see Graysen's overly muscled guard, Dawes, reaching for her. Ready to pick her up and drag her back to Graysen's side judging by his lack of weapons or faebane...

Graysen had likely ordered such measures be taken.

Graysen, who she'd last seen grappling with Rhysand...