A Court of Truths and Revival

Betrayal

AZRIEL

The shadows that often clung to Azriel sang a sorrowful song as they wrapped around his limbs and deposited him beneath the too-bright sun. Instantly, they scattered, leaving him to face this death alone.

Cerridwen would have cringed at so much light beating down on her brown skin. Bright light of a certain intensity could be fatal to wraiths, but as a half-wraith, it was just a nuisance and a minor danger to Cerridwen and her twin. Rather than burn through their shadowy essence, it simply forced them into a fleshy form where they were visible and vulnerable.

He couldn't imagine what might have possessed one of his best spies to risk herself and step into the light, especially given Seren's ask to keep a hidden watch over the Harp in the Hewn City. There was no light he knew of within that mountain capable of forcing Cerridwen into her half-fae form.

His shadows offered no further explanation as he examined the body staked into the spongy garden grass. Too bright for their sleuthing, was all they managed to whisper to him before darting away into the nearby shade of the rose garden.

Azriel reached out and gently closed the two lifeless eyes that were open wide before examining the steel spear tip that had been thrust up from beneath her chin and protruded from the top of her skull. It was not of Illyrian make, but he hadn't expected it to be. It was an antique, duel-tipped spear inlaid with sapphires and black diamonds. It was part of a priceless collection dating back to the earliest days of the Night Court. Her killer had not been trying to hide their identity. He'd recently seen the spear on prominent display.

From behind him, he heard Seren's bleak voice come to the same conclusion. "She is a message." There was a brief pause and Azriel turned to watch the remaining color leech from her face. "From Keir."

Though he loathed the thought of Adrik touching Seren, the newly appointed commander should have kept her upstairs or taken her far from here, but he was eyeing the body with the keen intrigue of someone able to look beyond a gruesome scene. Those who merely survived war were often triggered by reminders of it, but those who thrived in it...any doubt remaining about Adrik's prowess in an open battle where anything was fair game faded. "She seems to have a message too," Adrik finally said as he stepped forward with an arm raised.

Azriel moved to block him. Cerridwen didn't like to be touched. She'd complained that it felt unnatural. It would for a wraith. Instead, Azriel returned his focus to the spear tip driven upward through jaw and bone and then looked beyond the gleaming focal point. Stuffed into one side of the wide open mouth stuck in a permanent scream was a wad of parchment. Azriel retrieved it and tried to smooth it out as he avoided thinking about the blood and bile that he'd have to wash away from his fingers later.

My dearest, darkest niece,

You seem to have strayed so far from where you were meant to be with males under my command. I don't doubt you've inflicted unimaginable pain on a High Lord that could have been an ally with the outlawed weapons you procured.

Return at once or the half-breed's twin meets the same fate. As will my bright-eyed informant.

Keir

Steward of the Court of Nightmares

Rage coursed through Azriel, and his fist began to close over the summons, but Seren's light touch stopped him from pushing power to the siphon on the back of his hand to disintegrate the threat inked by a hand he was going to one day enjoy sawing off with a dulled blade. Seren tore the note away and skimmed it quickly before she shoved it at Adrik.

"You trust your captains?" she seethed, but she got no response from Adrik. It was a fair question since they were the most recent additions to the select few Seren had placed her trust in.