Battle Scars

Traitor

Azriel was sharpening one of his blades in the training area. The morning had been good with the priestesses training better and faster but something still bugged him back of his mind. Eve had taken the day off, claiming headache; maybe that's why he was feeling so... wrong. He got up, leaving behind the knives he had sharpened- something he did whenever he felt unsteady. Since Cass and Nesta had gone off for a few weeks, Eve and him had decided to stay at the House for some while. It made his training easier and her work she had taken in the library- to pour over archives out of curiosity more accessible.

When he had left today morning, Eve had holed herself up in his room but as he made his way there now- his shadows all but hissed around him- the few he had sent to stay with his mate buzzing with fear a few feet outside the bedroom. Sucking in a sharp breath, he hurried down and almost banged the door open. His mind played for him the worst possible scenarios that might have occurred but the reality was much more confusing.

"Love?" he tried- maybe she was in the bathroom, but the door was half open and no sound filtered. The bed was made and all her things were exactly where they had been when he had left. Panic was starting to form. He rushed to the balcony where one of his shadows found a long scarf- or a dupatta as Eve called it. It was tied to the balcony and went a few feet down till it reached the floor beneath. But why would she do this?

Rhys, he tried with his mind, jumping out and flying one storey down. His instinct were not reporting anything good. The window was open and he slammed in, scattering a few good pages. But no Eve- where was she? Rhysand! The door- it was open, maybe she went somewhere. For there was no way someone could have taken her right? The House was practically unbreakable and he would have known if an unwelcome Fae had entered. Down and down the long corridor he went, tugging on his bond with no response. Her side was blocked. He should've never left her alone after Koschei. "Eve?" he tried again. What is it, Azriel? His brother' concerned voice came to his mind. Eve, he said, she is missing. A beat then, where are you? House of Wind. He felt his brother retreat, no doubt coming to help instead.

Rhys took not more than a minute, stumbling the first few steps as his wings went back in. Azriel had already ransacked the first few rooms by then. "I cannot find her; the shadows are afraid to even look for her." Rhys' face was grim and his jaw tightened. "Was there anything unusual about her in the past few days?" Azriel scanned through his memories, "no, nothing. She was a bit distant but I chalked it down to what Koschei had said about Mike and her headaches." His breathing became faster, "you think someone did something to her? I would've known if that was the case. If-"

Rhysand' face had paled drastically. "Not if a Death Lord had anything to do with it." His eyes widened even further, "Azriel," his voice in contrast to the panic on his face, "The Harp is on this level."

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Eve was smiling as she found her way to the room where it was kept. Rhys had kept its location a secret but nothing could ever keep her from the Harp. It was meant for her. She had retrieved it and she was the one from the outer-world. The Harp was hers. And if having it meant stealing from the High Lord of the Night Court, she would do it. And she would find a way to bring back Mike later. And then together, they could leave this place in ruins- the place that never did anything to help Mike.

Humming, she inspected the lock on the brown, ordinary door. She could lockpick it but there were magical barriers in place and she suspected only Rhysand' magic would be able to break it. But she needed the Harp.

Readying a small ball of fire, she concentrated on sending it to the lock- wanting to melt it but the flame only sizzled out and the shield flickered in warning. She had a feeling a few more tries and the High Lord himself would be here along with his Spymaster. She had left the Shadowsinger' room soon after his training had started but that had been an hour ago and she was yet to get her hands on the Harp.

Frustrated, she made another ball of fire in her hand; she would do this for however long it took. It took three more tries but the lock finally broke- and with it, so did the nearest column as the shield shimmered and burnt down. Eve marvelled at her hands- she hadn't known fire magic could be used to such lengths in such a manner. A bang sounded a few doors down the hall she was in. Her jaw locked- she had been discovered. It was probably the Shadowsinger, her mate. 

Grunting, she quickly opened the ancient door and made her way to the centre of the room where the energy pulsed and called out to her. The Harp- it was magnificent. Whistling at her easy luck, she made her way to the Harp, running her hand on its smooth wood. Someone thundered behind her. Sighing, Eve turned around, the Harp now in her hand- Rhys hadn't put a lot of thought when he had sent the Harp away to be locked.

"Eve," Rhys asked, deadly calm, "you are not supposed to be here. You broke the wards." She snorted, her nails clicking against the wooden support, "you call those wards, Rhysand? You are so occupied with your new family, you slacked off." Her mate shifted beside his High Lord, "Eve, my love, what are you doing?" Her head tilted to the side, "my mate, stay out of this. I do not want to hurt you." Turning back to Rhysand, she ignored the look of hurt and panic on the Shadowsinger' face. The High Lord slipped his hand in his pockets- his tell tale sign. Eve reformed her mind shields and let the fire burn high. "You are not going anywhere with it." He said making her laugh. "Oh, you really think you can stop me. How cute." Her sneer made him angrier, his eyes narrowing but she only cocked her brow, "unable to get inside my mind? Told you- you are slacking off."

"This isn't you," he said, "why has Koschei put you under his thrall?" Eve blinked; she was not under any influence at all. What was the High Lord talking about? "Eve," her mate said, "why do you want the Harp?" She looked at him, ever aware of the High Lord whose eyes were piercing her to scrutiny. "I want it because it is mine. It calls for me, day and night and trying to ignore it only brings forth pain. Surely you wouldn't want your mate to suffer now, would you?" His jaw tightened, "Eve, my love, my shadow's lady, why didn't you tell me?" His eyes rooted her to place. Somewhere, some piece of her closed off heart called out for him. to him. "It doesn't matter," she shook her head, "all will be better soon."

She did not notice the blow that came next. Hadn't even noticed the shadows that had swarmed her feet for a while now. She staggered backwards; the Harp thrown a few feet away from her. Snarling, she got up in the now dark room, her hand lightening with cold fire. "I did not want to hurt you," she said, glaring at the shadows that surrounded her, "but you leave me no choice."

And at once, the entire room lit with fire. Somewhere she knew this was her mate' worst nightmare- fires as huge as the pillars, his mate in the middle of it, and cruel laughter. And while he battled the flames, she ran towards the Harp, skidding as her fingers took the instrument back in their hold. She bumped into another figure- Rhysand. It only took looking into his eyes for him to pierce her mental shields as he stabbed her abdomen. Hissing, she tried getting out of his grip but his arm around her waist was too strong. Winnowing it was then- right to the edge of the room and towards the open window where the cool air still blew over the city below.

"Fuckers," Eve breathed as her feet swayed- there must have been some time of sedative in that knife. She distantly saw the blue gemstone of her mate as her hands moved with their own accord to one of the strings- to the island.

I don't know how many of you are still here... but here you go

XOXO,

the author