The Shadows Have No Face || 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

Don't Mess With The Illyrian

I stood with Cassian in the entryway of the townhouse. An awkward silence had surrounded us for the past fifteen minutes, after Nesta bid him farewell like he was a child. Mor was currently rummaging through things upstairs, and Amren had decided to wait outside.

Cassian cleared his throat and said, "so, were you ever able to fly?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes."

"And yet you hate it now."

"Only when it's with you," I said, patting his shoulder.

He chuckled and shook his head before yelling up the stairs for Mor to hurry up. She cursed down at him and said that if he kept yelling at her, she'd move slower.

I dropped my head and stretched the muscles that ached from this morning. I had been up since dawn after I decided to train with Cassian. Terrible, terrible idea. He never stopped talking, which gave me a massive headache. On top of that was the fact that it was freezing cold and I wasn't wearing a coat. I would never try switching my training routine from evening to morning ever again.

Rhys walked through the living room to us and said, "where is Mor?"

"Still taking her sweet time," Cassian grumbled.

The High Lord sighed and flicked invisible dust from his jacket sleeve. He wore his typical, boring black attire that left no room for change. Except now there was a belt carrying an expensive-looking blade. The smallest of baby steps for change, I guess.

Mor finally came down the stairs dressed in a thick wool coat. She skipped down the stairs and stopped when she almost ran into me. "Where's Amren?"

As if she could hear her name, Amren knocked on the glass and gave a muffled yell for us to go. Yes, let's go to the Illyrian camp where I would have to deal with the worst people ever—except two... or... two and a half.

All of us met Amren outside. She stood with her arms tightly wrapped around herself, teeth chattering. "When I was other than Fae, I could handle this weather. Thank you for this," she hissed at the High Lord.

"Don't blame me for not researching High Fae before deciding to become one," he said, backing away from her.

"Whatever. Let's just go now before I freeze."

Rhys had us crowd in the middle of the front yard. "Alright, I'll winnow you in, make sure Devlon is on his best behavior, and go out looking for Az."

"He's missing?" I asked, sounding a little too interested.

"Not for long," Rhys said, smiling. "Now, hold on."

In seconds, my vision turned black. As always, my stomach dropped to my feet and my heart leapt to my throat. I hated winnowing. It was the worst feeling I could ever think of. Being stretched so thin and then snapped back together with the force of a thousand arrows. It was harsh and fast.

It was... nothing like when I traveled with the shadowsinger—with Azriel. I didn't know if I was even allowed to call him by his name anymore, or if he decided he hated me too much now. As we winnowed, all I could think about was how badly I wanted it to feel like when I was with him.

His shadows were always so soft, so slow. It was never rough, never on the verge of pain. It was never tight and instead felt like being cradled by a million feathers on a bed made of clouds. Entirely the opposite of this madness.

Winnowing with Rhysand differed from winnowing with Mor, though. With Mor, it was over the second it started, and was never more intense than it needed to be. But with Rhys, it was almost like I was sleeping standing up. It looked like my eyes were closed, but I knew they weren't. My body floated in this weightlessness that only came those seconds between being awake and being asleep, when your mind is still active, but your body is still.