A Court of Flame & Shadow - Eris x OC

Adriata II

Somehow, Vel ran into Mor and Feyre as she wobbled back up the hill towards the palace. A blessing in disguise because she didn't trust herself enough to winnow and she didn't think her legs would be able to carry her all the way up. Mor eyed her warily – the pristine swords on her back, the dusting of silvery-blue powder on her fingers. Vel could read nothing on her friend's face as Mor winnowed the three of them to the middle level of the palace.

There was something about the wind and darkness whipping at her face as they winnowed. Or perhaps something about Mor's magic that brushed against her. But as soon as they landed in the pearly hallway Vel dashed away from the two of them. She had just made it far enough to lean over a balustrade before retching. Again and again. Through her watery eyes, she saw the thick light blue liquid that came out of her. There was nothing left in her stomach. The acid burned her throat. She caught a glimpse of Mor's blond hair glistening in the sun as she approached. Then she felt the weight of her hand as she brushed soothing circles into her back. When she looked up into her friend's face there was concern – and anger.

Vel winced as she stood up on shaky legs. Feyre put her arm around her to offer support, giving her a small respite from Mor's burning stare. Feyre perhaps hadn't realized what she'd done, but Mor had. If she didn't already know she would soon find out that Azriel had been the one who had provided the Faebane for her.

Vel was glad to lock eyes with the Prince of Adriata from across the room. There was a death-promise on her two friends' heads in the Summer Court, perhaps it would distract them from asking questions, at least for now. Varian approached them, slowly, stiffly, likely from some unseen or already healed injuries. It was enough of a distraction that Vel managed to slip away, her legs only somewhat steadier.

The open space was a flurry of motion as healers and soldiers rushed to turn the hall into a makeshift hospital. The seawater stream through the center of the floor was red with blood. More and more winnowed in, borne by wide-eyed High Fae. The hall filled with the reek of death and the screams of the injured.

She kneeled where the captain had been, next to a male whose thigh hung in ribbons. Another soldier was tying a tourniquet around his legs, trying and failing to staunch the bleeding. Vel gently slid her hands over the gaping wound, urging the other male out of the way. At least with most of the Faebane out of her system, she could make herself useful in this way, even for a little bit. White light flowed from her fingertips. The shards of bone dulled. Muscle knitted together and the blood stopped flowing. New skin grew over what remained of the male's leg. Though his face was as white as death, he was still breathing.

Vel felt someone hovering over her shoulder. "You made the right call, sending that message to Amren," she said to the male.

The hall was getting tightly packed with the wounded and dying. Vel only had to scoot a few inches toward her next patient, a dark-skinned faerie with hair the color of the sea. Shimmering scales of blue and green trailed from his webbed fingers and up his shoulders where they got lost under a mess of red and blue. His blood, and somebody else's. A jagged blade protruded at an angle from between his third and fourth ribs. His breathing was shallow and erratic.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I didn't. You just confirmed it." Vel felt Varian tense behind her as she pulled out the broken blade lodged in the faerie's lung in one swift motion. "It was an informed guess, You didn't look surprised or angry to see us." Her fingers pressed against the wound hard enough to keep most of his blue blood inside his body as the magic worked. "I won't tell anyone, don't worry"

Varian kneeled next to her, tending to another lesser faerie, as well as he could without his magic. "Tarquin will be angry when he finds out. He's been betrayed enough," he muttered.