Dance of Fate

Chapter Seventy Four

"I'm too old for these sorts of surprises," Mor groused as the war-tent groaned in the howling mountain wind at the northern border of the Winter Court, the Illyrian army settling down for the night. To wait for the attack tomorrow. 

My power had started pounding, as if in anticipation. Or perhaps the king was using the Cauldron again. 

I signaled for Mor to pass me the wine bottle, then took a long swig from it.

"You never suspected Jurian might be ... good?" Feyre asked. 

Mor held out her hand, and I passed her back the wine. "I don't know," she said, hauling a heavy wool throw blanket over her legs. "I was never as close to Jurian as I was to some of the others, but ... we did fight together. Saved each other. I just assumed Amarantha broke him."

"Parts of him are broken," Feyre said. I hummed my agreement. I had no clue how he retained any sense of sanity after living all of that. What I'd seen in his memories... 

"We're all broken," Mor said. "In our own ways—in places no one might see."  Well if that wasn't the truth. "Is Elain... alright?" Mor asked before Feyre could ask her what she meant. 

"No." Feyre said flatly. 

I pursed my lips at her tone, at the look on her face. "At least Nesta slapped that man." I said, earning a snicker from Mor and a smile from Feyre.

Mor sighed and set down the wine on the small wood table beside the chaise. "We should sleep. I don't even know why I'm drinking."

"How the hell are we supposed to sleep knowing what's coming?" I asked. Mor and Feyre turned to me, as if only now realizing this was my first actual battle. Adriata didn't count, not when I hadn't had control of my body. I wished I wasn't so terrified. 

Mor seemed to see that, and said softly, "it never gets easier." 

I sighed, grabbing the discarded wine and taking a long sip. I bid them both goodbye and walked out of the tent, into the freezing cold. I shivered as snow fell around me, clinging to my hair. 

Mor appeared a moment later. "That's Azriel's tent," she blurted, signaling to a tent. I turned to look at her with raised brows. Her face turned grave. "Anything can happen tomorrow. You should talk." 

I stared at her as she walked off into the night. And then my gaze went to the tent. I 

I knew he was in there, lying awake in his bed. I didn't know how, but I knew. 

I stood in the snow, shivering at the cold of the night. I stared at the tent for minutes- hours. 

But I did not go in.

...

I didn't sleep at all that night. Not with the knowledge of what was coming in only a few hours. Not while I pondered in the darkness if I was being stupid, if I should take Mor's advice. I knew she was right. Anything could happen in war.

When the sun finally rose, I stood ready, covered in black armor and armed to the teeth, my hair swept back in a tight braid.

I'd had a long conversation with Rhys about what I would do. I'd tried to convince him to let me go to the front lines- but he refused. He'd said that even if I was the most powerful among them, it was my first battle. Power was useless in the face of experience, he'd said. And I'd agreed, if only because I didn't want to be a liability.

But I would still fight. If the front lines faltered, I would hold them. And, I was to help Rhys cloak the Illyrian's, as well as Keir's forced as they flew into the battle, only to reveal them once they were upon Hybern's army.