A Court of Madness and Depth

Chapter 23

I had never feared death.

Being an Illyrian means welcoming the possibility of death. Not only because of a high female mortality rate and war between clans and the Blood Rite. From a young age when you take your first flight you put your life on the line. There are no safety nets when you are learning to fly, there are no strong arms to catch you if you fall, there is only you and the wind and your strength. You are given the instruction and tools you need to succeed, and if you die trying, then your end was how the Mother intended.

Brutal is one word that many describe Illyrians.

I remember when I was a child, learning to fly. My mother had taken me to a large rock and commanded me to jump. Since I was a girl she knew that I would never be taught by any of the males in the camp. No females were. If you wanted to learn you needed either a rebellious mother or a will of iron to teach yourself... or in my case, both.

With the spirit of a true Illyrian I leapt from the boulder and soared through the air, I extended my wings, pumping them with vigor, and flexing the muscles along my back. When I imagine the moment I still feel the wind ripping past my ears and hear my mother's holler of support. And once I began to fall I did not cry out. I simply allowed myself to crash into the ground.

My mother had let me fall. She had always let... no, expected me to fail at things. I truly believe she is the reason for every ounce of courage I possess. Sitting on the hard forest floor, clutching my bruised arm she found me. She helped me up, dusted me off, and ordered me to go again. I had. Again and again, crashing with vigor.

Standing at the gates of the Hewn City with my uncle and Lord Devlin to my left, staring into the mass of armored Spring Court bodies, I felt like I was back on that boulder in the mountains, waiting to leap.

The army in front of me was a mass of power and magic, but there was no fear clouding my mind. I did not hesitate when I saw the large axes carried by some of the Spring Court sentries, sharped to carve into my chest. If I died this day then I would die as the Mother intended. However, the possibility of death did not mean I wouldn't fight like hell to protect my court and my own life.

The High Lord of the Spring Court had not attacked all morning. Now, they sat camped across what was to be our battlefield, under the high afternoon sun. Luckily, this gave me enough time to sort out a strategy with my uncle, and for Devlon's forces to arrive.

My uncle had been furious when I told him that I did not know where my father was. Dawning my mask of innocent youth I had played into the fact that my uncle would believe I had no interest in knowing where my father was or his business. Kier had then asked if my brother would be making an appearance. I told him no, but informed him that help would be arriving soon. He had bristled a bit at the idea of housing Illyrians, but I had convinced him that they would be on their best behavior. Although, I wasn't sure Illyrians had a "best" behavior.

This being the case, Kier had immediately situated himself as the temporary leader. His darkbringer army was assembled, armed, and waiting. When I turned and looked back upon the mountain I found his soldiers standing in every window or outcropping with a view of the army. There was also a large legion waiting right inside the gate, prepared for a ground assault.

I had situated myself as his right hand, offering unwelcome advice when I had something to say and arming myself in a hybrid of Darkbringer and Illyrian armor. I faced some resistance at first. My uncle was the type of male who truly believed women should not fight in battle at all. This was a way of thinking that had nearly been abandoned in The Night Court, but there were some places and families where this ideology raged strong. I was lucky that my father had allowed me to be trained. Lucky that my uncle was not my father. Lucky that I had not been born in the Illyrian mountains where women were kept from fighting of any kind, usually by force.