A Court of Dusk and Shadows

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: AMONG THE RUINS

Rhys sat in a meeting with Helion at the River House.

His study seemed to shrink under the other High Lord's radiant presence, yet they sat at his desk as friends might. Friends bound by duty, yes, but friends, nonetheless. Rhys couldn't help but see a quiet strain beneath Helion's golden warmth.

"Are you worried about the Lady of Autumn?"

Helion leaned back in his chair, momentarily letting go of the easy grin his public persona demanded. "I always worry about her," he admitted quietly, the ever-present glow of his power dimming slightly. "Tell me she's safe, Rhys. That Eris is keeping her safe."

"Eris assures me she's alright. The one good thing about this conflict is that Beron's attention is elsewhere. But we will get her out, Helion. I swear it." Rhys met his friend's stare, an echo of his own grim determination flickering in those sunlit eyes.

Helion nodded, not trusting his voice. He may have been as good as parading as about like an uncaring prick as much as Rhysand was, but this . . . this cut him deeply.

"There's good news, though," Rhys said with an exhale as if wanting to lighten the mood. "Tarquin has agreed to join us. He's rallying his forces even now, ready to bolster Tamlin's defenses in the Spring Court and the mortal lands. Cassian's preparing a legion of Illyrians for additional patrols."

A hint of a smile touched Helion's lips. "Excellent. But you know the moment Tarquin's men march to Spring's aid, Beron will know for certain that we've conspired against him."

Rhys returned the smile with a sharp edge. "Good. Maybe a good dose of fear will shake some sense into that bastard."

Just then, the hushed air of the study exploded. Cassian stormed through the door, his usually easygoing face tight with urgency. Rhys and Helion both jerked upright. Feyre, summoned by the noise, appeared in the doorway moments later, Nyx cradled in her arms.

"What is it?" Feyre's voice pierced the tension.

Cassian's gaze swept over them all. "We have to move. Now. Something's happened in the library."

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The library had always been a place of refuge for Callisto. The scent of ancient scrolls and quiet power offered a kind of solace she couldn't find on any wind-blasted training ground.

But today, it was a war room.

She moved between the stacks of books, her Illyrian leathers creaking. Nine siphons glinted on her, their emerald glow the only thing holding back her fear. Azriel was gone. Missing? Taken? She couldn't bear to give the formless horror within her a name.

A rustle of robes turned her head. Two of the Priestesses, their faces strained and pale, moved between the shelves. "Did you see him?" The words were hard to push past her constricted throat. "Azriel?"

One priestess, younger, swallowed hard. "There was a woman. Fiery hair, like molten copper. Your Shadowsinger brought her... and then...she went down into the lower levels."

She faltered, and the second priestess, gray-haired and steady, took over. "He went down after her, Lady Callisto. There were flashes - blue and white - hissing..." Her eyes widened, reflecting some awful memory. "The very walls seemed to shake and groan. But since then, only silence."

"Down?" Callisto's fingers closed around the Illyrian dagger strapped to her thigh.

The Priestesses nodded.

"Thank you." The words were barely a whisper. Without waiting for another word, she flung herself toward the chasm that split the library floor, her wings snapping open to slow her descent. Fear turned her blood to ice as she peered into the depths.