The Witching Hour (Rise of the Valkyries)

Chapter Eleven

Mera emerged from the darkness, her eyes scanning the area as she followed the sound of Ean's voice. She found Ean berating Azriel among the dimly lit flickering torches, his voice harsh and grating.

Without hesitation, Mera inserted herself into the group. "Yeah, I got what I needed anyway," she announced. Were it not for the torchlight, Mera might have missed how Ean visibly paled at the sight of her. He knew where she'd come from, and he knew what information she now possesed.

With a quick glance at Azriel, she added, "Let's go."

Devlon's angry voice cut through the air. "Where the hell did you go? You did not get my permission to walk around my camp!"

Mera turned to face Devlon, her eyes blazing. She was in no mood or mind to deal with either of them, not when one was little more than a cruel power-hungry idiot and the other had murdered her brother.

Azriel stepped closer to her side, flexing his wings to pounce between them if the need arose.

"Yeah?" Mera retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she stepped closer to Azriel, "Go cry to your High Lord about it."

Azriel sighed, lifting Mera into his arms, the warmth of her body a stark contrast to the cold night air as they took off into the sky. The campfire's glow below them faded, replaced by the vast expanse of stars above.

As they soared, Azriel's voice was gentle but curt. "You shouldn't antagonize them."

Mera's eyes burned with anger as she narrowed them at him. "I don't care," she replied. The wind whipped around them, carrying the weight of her words.

"They'll take it out on Kori," Azriel warned.

"I don't care," Mera repeated, her voice rising with the swell of her emotions. "He's just as guilty as the rest of them. He helped cover up Arien's murder."

Azriel was taken aback. "Murder?"

Mera looked at him with a mix of distrust and disappointment. She had once trusted Azriel completely, but now he was just Rhysand's pawn. She didn't trust him to do what was right, what was fair. Azriel would count on Rhysand to give Ean the punishment he deserved, which would be nothing more than a slap on the wrist for overstepping.

"Kori said one of the other boys killed Arien for his Red Siphon," she lied. Mera hoped Azriel's ability to detect lies wouldn't work on her, or at least make him think she was just angry.

"That's not murder, Mera. It's part of the Rite," he said with a sigh. "Now you've made enemies of Devlon, Ean, and Dontay. And you've made Kori a punching bag for them."

The wind howled around them, the cold biting into Mera's skin, but she ignored it all. "I won't apologize, if that's what you're hinting at. Apologizing won't bring Arien back."

Azriel's brow furrowed in annoyance, his agitation clear. "Neither will bullying his best friend."

Mera's eyes narrowed, venom in her glare, her lips curling into a snarl as she hissed her response. "Fine, let's focus on bringing him back then. How do you suggest we do that? Shall we sacrifice your powers or my life to do it?"

Her words hung in the air like weapons of their own, enough to make the very air around them feel charged.

They flew the rest of the way in utter silence, the only sound the soft rustling of the wind as it blew through Azriel's silky hair. The landscape below blurred into darkness, the distant lights of the Illyrian camps flickering like forlorn stars.

As they arrived at the Estate, Mera practically leaped out of Azriel's arms the moment his feet touched the ground. Without sparing him a second glance, she marched across the snowy front courtyard, her steps heavy with frustration. The porch loomed ahead, a stark contrast to the sprawling night behind them.