A Court of Dusk and Shadows

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: BONDS BEYOND DARKNESS

I wasn't going to leave you guys hanging with the last chapter. Here's the continuation!

Also, this is dedicated to Lara-chan23 thank you for all your votes and love for this book 💙







Nesta stared Ileana down, the Princess almost flinching under the Valkyrie's frigid silver gaze.

For a moment, the only sound was the ragged rhythm of Ileana's own breath. Around Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn radiated a silent fury, their bodies tense as coiled springs.

When Nesta finally spoke, her voice crackled with controlled rage. "Let me get this straight. This witch," Nesta said the word as if she wanted to use another term, "has Azriel under her thrall?"

Ileana nodded, jaw tight. She couldn't look Nesta in the eye, shame twisting alongside the lingering terror.

"But his shadows saved you? And now, they winnowed you here from the River House?" Again, it was Nesta who asked.

And again, Ileana nodded. She made no mention of Bryaxis. The creature didn't want to reveal itself to them; she would respect that. Besides, they had bigger problems at the moment.

"Now you want our help?" Another nod, smaller and hesitant this time.

Nesta crossed her arms, the gesture more defiance than dismissiveness. There was a dangerous glint in her eyes, and her grin was anything but warm. A flicker of fear danced in Ileana's eyes. Gwyn took a subtle step forward, her fire banked but present – a spark contrasting Nesta's glacial control. Emerie observed, yet in the tilt of her head was an echo of defiance that Ileana felt deep in her own bones.

"Are you going to help, or not?" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"He taught us. Fought beside us." It was Gwyn who answered, her usual whisper honed to a blade's edge. Emerie met Ileana's gaze, a single, fierce nod mirroring the sentiment.

The corners of Nesta's lips twitched upwards again—a predator sizing up unexpected prey. "I've always enjoyed defying Rhysand's orders. But let's get this clear – we're not doing this for you. We're going after this siren, but Azriel is the priority."

The flicker of understanding in Ileana's gaze broke the icy spell. Not agreement, but an acknowledgment that Azriel mattered as much to these fierce warriors as he did to her.

"But it's not as simple as just walking in there," Nesta continued, her voice turning brisk and practical, the warrior instinct kicking in. "We need backup. Not just muscle – brains, and more power than any of us can muster..." A calculating pause, "We need someone Rhys would absolutely hate for us to call."

✴️ | 🗡️ | ✴️

The Prison chamber whispered of past violence.

Ileana moved alongside the Valkyries. They were now a silent unit that shared a purpose. Ileana knelt by a gouge in the stone floor – evidence of her own narrow escape. Nesta surveyed the debris, eyes narrowed in assessment, while Gwyn and Emerie scrutinized broken shelves, searching for additional clues about this enemy.

Elain sat hunched over a table, features tight with concentration. She was trying to use her seer abilities, but she hadn't said anything for some time, only wincing every so often as if from a headache.

Feyre was also there, quietly sifting through what appeared to be journals on another table. Maybe Silene had kept some sort of record of these prisoners. Some kind of weakness.

Nesta studied the wreckage left in Ileana's wake. "You got lucky, Princess. Lucky those shadows of his took pity on you." Her tone wasn't cruel, just an acknowledgment of the brutal truth.