A Court of Truths and Revival

Something Rotten

AZRIEL

Azriel thought he'd been tired, but his exhaustion had increased tenfold over the past forty-eight hours. He'd been in contact with his spies stationed in every court. He'd flown with Cassian to Illyria to put the fear of the Mother in them in hopes they'd offer up Mor on a silver platter and Elain had been wrong. It had resulted in a brawl when one of the lower lords spat that he'd never touch such a slut.

Now bruised and functioning on the nightmarish sleep he'd managed three evenings prior, Azriel found himself concealed in the shadow of a great oak tree.

Males in auburn cloaks moved silently about the dense forest. Some were perched in trees overhead with bows at the ready, but none were looking for Azriel. After five minutes of watching, he surmised it to be a hunting party made up of Eris's best soldiers—what remained of them after Briallyn. Based on their chatter, there was some sort of wager on who could bring back the largest kill.

Azriel would have placed his money not on the bulky, bearded male who wielded a spear, but on the short, male who moved without crunching a single leaf beneath his boots.

Howls sounded down past some of the nearby caves, drawing the hunters' attention. Just as he was about to fall back into the shadows entirely to follow, a low voice drifted around the tree trunk. "I should have ordered them to catch me a Shadowsinger, though I doubt you'd taste half as flavorful as any of the beasts roaming these parts." Azriel palmed Truth-Teller as he stepped around the oversized trunk thrice his width to face the sneering Autumn lordling. "With the bastard blood and all," Eris commented with an unnecessary sniff in his direction.

"Eris," Azriel growled, cutting a glance to the sky. With the Autumn soldiers so close, it would be unwise to make his presence known.

"What brings you to trespass in my woods, Shadowsinger?" Eris asked with a smug expression as if he knew the reason for this visit already. Azriel hoped he did since it would be reason enough to jam Truth-Teller between his ribs.

"Mor."

Eris's eyes flashed with confusion, but the smug, twisted features were back a second later. "She wishes to resume our engagement? How wonderful."

Azriel moved before he could think better of it, grabbing Eris by the tailored color of his tunic and slamming him back against the tree. His siphons blazed, giving Azriel more than enough power to keep Eris in place. "What would be wonderful is your corpse, charred and fileted to present as a solstice gift to her."

"How unoriginal," Eris said with a yawn. "Though I would consider myself a delicacy. Too bad Mor prefers pastries and fruits."

Azriel kept him pinned and shifted so that his dagger rested long Eris's pale neck. The audacity in which Eris spoke of Mor pissed him off. He acted as if he knew her, but Mor was Azriel's family and wanted nothing to do with this wretched, jewel-colored court.

It took all Azriel had to keep the knife steady at Eris's throat rather than dig it further in. How he'd like to see if his blood matched the auburn color of his hair. "Have you been conspiring against her and our alliance?"

Eris's smirk faded until his lips formed a thin, tight line.

Azriel let out a satisfactory grin that was so wicked, it caused the Autumn princeling to bare his teeth.

"Your surprise is genuine enough to prove yourself just as useless as ever. Pulling back, Azriel let Eris adjust his jacket and smooth his hair. A muscle ticked on his jaw and it was obvious he was holding back a slew of questions, none of which Azriel intended to answer.

Finally, Eris composed himself. "Where is she?" There was a fearful undertone to his words that sharpened Azriel's own anger, forcing him to reconsider leaving Eris with no information.