A Court of Worlds and Eternities (Book IV: Part I)

Chapter 8

Author's Note: As I mentioned at the bottom of the last chapter, this chapter contains graphic violence. 

The group decided to stay together in the large room for the night, preferring the safety and solidarity of numbers over the comfort of separate quarters. As the evening wore on, Lowen found herself dozing off, her head resting on Azriel's shoulder, drifting towards a light sleep. Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by the sound of breaking glass as a canister crashed through the window.

Instantly, everyone was on their feet, weapons drawn in a reflex of defense. As the canister hit the floor, it emitted a thick, churning gas.

"Faebane!" Cassian cursed loudly, recognizing the scent of the substance designed to weaken fae.

Without hesitation, Lowen grabbed a chair and smashed the remaining glass of the window to create an escape route.

"Rhys, Azriel, Cassian—get out! Get outside, fly into the mountains!" she yelled over the growing chaos.

Azriel gestured urgently for Lowen to come to him, but she shook her head determinedly.

"No, you three need to go now. They might have the windows monitored, ready to fire arrows at the first sign of movement. You need to be quick and unencumbered."

"There's no way I'm leaving you behind," Azriel protested, his voice thick with emotion.

"I know this place like the back of my hand. I can get us out. Just go, get flying!" Mor interjected confidently.

"You don't have the use of your magic or powers," Cassian reminded them.

Lowen smirked back, her confidence unshaken.

"We don't need them," she declared, winking at Cassian and earning a reluctant grin from the general.

Rhys quickly set the coordinates for a rendezvous point.

"Meet there in an hour," he instructed.

The females nodded in agreement, ready to execute the plan.

Cassian was the first to act, leaping out into the night sky, his wings flaring wide as he dodged dozens of arrows shot from the shadows. Rhys gestured for Azriel to follow, and the shadowsinger hesitated, his gaze locked on Lowen.

"You'll be at the coordinates," he said, more a statement than a question.

"I will," Lowen assured him firmly.

His stare lingered intensely for a moment longer.

"I'll be there," she repeated.

Finally, Azriel nodded, his expression plagued with reluctance. He moved toward the window and leaped out with Rhys, both of them weaving through the air, narrowly evading the barrage of arrows.

Lowen watched him disappear into the darkness, took a deep, steadying breath, and turned to Mor.

"Lead the way," she commanded.

Mor and Lowen fought fiercely as they made their way out of the great hall, their combined strength and training allowing them to overpower their attackers. By the time they reached the courtyard, they had sustained only minor injuries, evidence of their combat skills and determination.

"Follow me into the woods; it leads up to the mountains. We can winnow from there once the faebane wears off," Mor instructed, her voice urgent as she headed toward the tree line.

Lowen was about to comply when a harrowing roar sliced through the night air, freezing her in her tracks. It was Rhys's voice, twisted in pain, echoing from further east into the woods.