A Delicate Darkness | AZRIEL (ACOTAR)

xi. the high lady and her warriors

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Perspective is all over the place in this chapter.

And call me controversial, but I really feel like Cass and Az would have had a more visceral reaction to seeing Eris than they did in ACOWAR. As in, murderous rage. I feel that the IC are written as all bark and no bite some of the time, so it was a bit of fun changing this scene, especially with Auroria to add some fuel to the fire and really intensify that thirst for blood that Cass and Az have towards Eris whilst, of course, balancing Feyre's orders.
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THE HIGH LADY AND HER WARRIORS

A KALEIDOSCOPE EXPLOSION OF RED AND BLUE exploded on the ice, lighting up the vignette of darkness that crawled further and further into her fading vision.

Fight it.

Writhing and squirming, she clawed and clawed at Nostrus' hand. And she could feel the change — the new contenders in the game. A great rumble of power. In the splintering ice beneath them and in the air where the howling winter winds seemed to fall silent.

Nostrus loosed a sharp breath in her ear; his grip slackened. Just enough that she could land a vengeful elbow into his diaphragm and, gathering her strength, winnowed away. Away to the first place her panicked mind thought of.

Nostrus was right; her affection for Lucien would one day be the death of her.

Lucien's blade clashed against Virgil's. Steel against steel screamed shrilly into the air as the brothers met gazes, little love between them. Dripping with sweat and blood he wasn't even sure was his, Lucien knew that he couldn't last against Virgil, the brother among them with a natural flair for brute force and sheer strength.

"Too late to talk it through?"

Virgil's nostrils flared with unadulterated rage — a loosed predator out for the hunt it had been denied of for centuries.

It was then that Auroria emerged out of thin air, crumpling to the ground right beside them. She keeled over, one palm on the ice as she wheezed for air.

Lucien's brows knitted together. "Sister?"

He should have anticipated the vicious right hook that collided with his jaw, sending him to the ground. His head spun, a ringing in his ears. He should have seen it coming. Maybe all this time with Tamlin made him soft — blunted the rough edges that, though carved by trauma, made him sharper. A better survivor.

Above him, Virgil eclipsed the sun, his red hair close to flame. He cracked his bloodied knuckles, smirking. "Bowing out so easily, Lucy?" he crooned, positing the tip of his sword beneath Lucien's chin. "You're no fun. Look at you two." He spared a glance at Auroria, her hair a mess as she struggled for breath. "Pathetic."

Virgil was a fine swordsman, indeed.

But no competitor for an Illyrian.

Lucien flinched as a blur wreathed in shadows slid across the ice and launched himself straight at Virgil, tackling the brawniest Vanserra to the ground. The Illyrian was a black mass of deft discipline and raw power, his blue siphons glistening beneath Winter's sun. Lucien, of course, knew of him — it was his business to know, having occupied a similar role in Tamlin's court. Rhysand's shadowsinger and spymaster all rolled into one lethal, winged killing machine. Azriel. Which would make the other... the lesser known in the realm of politics but a revered name on the battlefield... Cassian.

A delicate, shaky coughing tore his attention away from the glorious sight of seeing Virgil be pummelled by the Illyrian.

"Auroria," Lucien breathed, rushing over to her. He brushed away the locks of her hair that had fallen out of her braids and scanned for injuries. His gaze latched onto the angry splotches of purple and green blossoming across her neck, drawing up to her blood shot eyes. His head spun with fury as much as that knock Virgil gave him. He cursed. "I'm sorry... Fuck... You getting hurt wasn't part of the plan."