𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Cassian didn't know what he would find when he landed at the town house, only that it wouldn't be good. Mor slipped wordlessly from his arms, sprinting the extra steps to the already swinging door and he kept on her heels.

He saw first. The High Lord sat against the wall, knees pulled halfway into a bend towards the roof. He almost didn't see her. The black velvet of her dress and her hair melded in with that of her brother's tendrils of dark power that wrapped around them both. His fingers were threaded through her hair, holding her head close to his chest. She lay there limply, one hand dropped to the floor, fingers curling into her palm. Amren already knelt beside him, speaking to him, but nobody but Amren heard what she had to say.

Cassian heard next. Hard, gut-wrenching wails came from his brother.

Mor didn't stop as she ran towards them but before she could reach out, Amren giving a small bark of warning, something knocked her to the ground. Climbing back to her knees, just two feet away from them, Mor placed her hand on the air between them. A shield. "Rhys? Arwen?"

Rhysand shook his head and that's when Cassian could see his red-stained eyes and the tracks along his cheeks. Cassian approached, feeling the shield for himself. Rhysand tightened his grip, if even possible, and held Arwen to him. "Rhys," he called lowly. "Let us help her." He didn't know what had happened--only that Rhys had sent an urgent cry for them. He was struck with the flash of a memory where she complained of feeling ill not an hour ago. Had it gotten worse? 

Rhysand shook his head again, unable to say a single word, heaving like there was no air. The hand in her hair curled tighter as he kept her head to the space between his shoulder and neck as if hiding her away from them. His other ran down and back up the length of her back, scrunching and folding the fabric of her dress.

That's the moment Cassian realised what he was seeing, and what he was hearing. The pained cries of raw grief. 

"Oh gods..." Cassian pushed his palm to his mouth, his chest tightening to the point of pain. He fell back away from the shield, bile crawling up through his throat. She was dead. Dead and limp and pale. 

He had left her here. Alone. He made a promise to return tomorrow but tomorrow was too late. Stumbling away, Cassian couldn't stay there, vomit already pooling in the back of his mouth. Clambering to his feet, he swayed into the closest room. Behind him, Mor kept speaking to Rhysand, kept trying to get through to him.

He wasn't the only one that couldn't stay. Azriel stood in the sitting room in a shadowed corner. His hands pressed into one of the shelves of the bookcase that stretched from ceiling to floor. Azriel stared at the space between his hands, his shoulders softly rising with each breath. Cassian made the steps toward him, knowing that his pain was unmatched to his brother's.

He knew how to do it. Knew how to push aside the immediate grief and deal with what was before him. Azriel could do it too. Any trained warrior, especially Illyrian, needed to if they had any hope of surviving on the battlefield. But this wasn't a battlefield with warriors dying by blades in a war. This was his home and his mate lay dead in it.

As Cassian neared, he spied the swelling muscles underneath Azriel's jaw from clamping it shut. His knuckles had gone bone white with splotches of red marking the trapped blood under the skin. Despite how still he remained, Cassian knew that every muscle beneath the canvas of his skin was fuelled with power.

"Az..." The shadowsinger made no acknowledgement of his nearing. Closer now, Cassian could see the watery layer on his eyes, the small tremble in his lip. He reached for his brother's arm—

A fist to his face cut off any words he intended to say. Cassian fell back two steps but kept his footing. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth and rounded his shoulders as Azriel watched him. Cassian nodded to his brother.

They fought. They fought messy and hard, no strength withheld in their fists. They broke furniture and marked the walls but with each fist that hit Cassian, Azriel fought less. Cassian knew the sitting room would soon be destroyed beyond magical repair but he also knew that Rhysand wouldn't care. Wouldn't care about much for a long time. And he also knew if he didn't let Azriel take it out on him, he'd take it out somewhere else and perhaps that would be somewhere they couldn't find him.

So he continued to let Azriel punch him. Kick him. Whatever he needed.

"You kept me from her," Azriel repeated, over and over again. "You kept me from her. You kept me from her."

Azriel shoved him against the exposed brick wall, once, twice.

Cassian snarled as his wings flared with pain and gripped Azriel's arm with the intention of throwing him off, but a broken sound stopped him. Azriel stopped barging him against the wall, but the grip on Cassian's shoulders tightened as he let out a sob. Cassian dropped his restraint.

Whatever wall the spymaster had built, crumpled. Tears streaked down each cheek, each one like a blow to Cassian's stomach, harder than any fist would hurt. He clasped Azriel's shoulder, and his brother folded into him, chest shaking.

Rhysand had quietened in the hall, though Cassian had no idea how long ago as the sound of their fighting had blocked out anything else. He wasn't even sure how long they had been fighting. It felt like hours. He could just hear Mor's soft voice over Azriel's wails.

~

Mor sighed and folded her arms, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the hallway. Her eyes and cheeks were both stained red. "He won't let me touch her."

Cassian sniffed and roughly wiped at his eyes, coughing to clear his throat. Azriel had left—to Cauldron knows where. But after their fighting, after he finally ran out of tears, Cassian made the mistake of letting him go back into the hall. Azriel had said nothing, but looked down, and then fled. Amren now sat with Rhysand, saying nothing, but watching over. "Just let him," he told her hoarsely. "She was the only blood he had left." Mor looked about to argue, but one sharp look from Cassian silenced it. She tilted from foot to foot. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You alright, Mor?"

Mor bit her lip, looking out past her shoulder to a frosted window, then shook her head.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Me neither." He swallowed her frame into his arms, his shirt which had just begun drying became wet again. And guilt ate at him, bit by bit.

~

Cassian sat across from Rhysand in the hallway. They were the only two left in the town house, Mor claiming she couldn't stay any longer and Amren went on a hunt to find Azriel. Rhysand did not look at Cassian, his face pale and empty. He said nothing either. He didn't cry. He simply rested his cheek against his sister's head, slowly stroking the side of her face, sometimes humming a rough tune. Cassian gave a moment to be grateful that he couldn't see her face past her almost entirely loose hair.

His eyes dropped to the dark stain on the carpet. It was throughout the rest of the town house. Droplets of what he soon figured out were blood, decorating the walls and furniture. It was on Arwen's hand too.

"How?" The croaked question broke the promise of silence.

Cassian didn't think an answer would come, but after a minute of silence, Rhysand whispered, "Poison." Another pause. "Someone poisoned her."

It didn't surprise him, not with the circumstances, but the confirmation still sent his mind into a frenzy. They had been in a foreign court—with servants and guests that they didn't know of. His mind cut to Tamlin and hated how he dismissed him so fast. Tamlin had been shocked to see her there—Cassian saw it on his face. Probably didn't know of the meeting at all. There was Ianthe, but Arwen had gone straight to Rhysand's chambers from what he knew. Stayed there all night. But from the next morning until the meeting, Cassian didn't know what had happened—if she left or Rhysand left her alone. Did Thesan have any reason?

"Someone will pay for it," Cassian answered. A promise and threat. Let the wind carry the warning.

Rhysand finally looked at him. "I already have." He nestled back against the side of her face, a place he didn't rise from until exhaustion stole him many hours later.