Wind Wielder

Chapter 39 - Windhaven

Cassian had left far before sunrise the following morning. Which was a blessing, because then there was at least one friendly face ready to greet them when Azriel and Zara arrived at Windhaven the following morning.

The Illyrian camp was cold, misty, and harsh, near the top of a forested mountain. It was made of bare rock and mud, interrupted only by crude, easy-to-pack tents centered around large fire pits. Near the tree line in the distance a dozen permanent buildings were constructed of bland gray mountain stone, low and flat. On the opposite end of the camp were huge sparring and training rings fully stocked with various weapons, weights and training supplies. Zara surveyed the many winged males walking about. All huge and muscular and stoic. She observed their battle hardened faces. There was not a drop of joy or warmth to be found.

Azriel let her down gently, and Zara took her place next to him, cowering as if terrified by the large Illyrian males coming to surround them. Azriel stood tall and proud, his stance wide and shoulders back, wings flared wide. His face was as unfeeling and harsh as the mountains they stood surrounded by. He let Zara remain tucked into his side, his wing splayed out protectively behind her.

The crowd parted, and soon the cold dreariness of this place broke for a ray of sunshine– Cassian. He spared a quick grin, though it lacked its usual radiant sincerity. It came off cold, and cocky as his eyes ran over Azriel.

A proud leader recognizing another male of his own caliber.

Zara stepped out of the way and let Cassian envelop Azriel in a quick embrace. "Brother," he greeted Azriel, his eyes shifting to Zara over Azriels shoulder. He let go of Az, and gave her a shallow nod of recognition. Zara gave him one back, deep and jolting. Terrified.

"You did not tell me the Shadowsinger would be coming," Another rough deep voice boomed. The camp parted again for an Illyrian male, dressed in scaled armor. He was an old male, tall, stocky, and broad shouldered. He bore obsidian long hair like Cassian, and the deep golden tan all Illyrians had. His rough face seemed to be etched into a permanent frown.

'Devlon, Lord of Windhaven'. Zara's wise winds informed her.

"Because you didn't need to know," Cassian stated, a blatant dismissal of the older male who grit his teeth at the insinuation. "He will be staying with me until further notice, helping me oversee things."

"Not that we need you here in the first place." Devlon grunted to Cassian, and Zara had to refrain from gritting her teeth at the blatant disrespect in his tone. Devlon's eyes cut to Zara, and looked her up and down. His eyes lingered on her hips and chest through the bland servants dress she wore, and Zara felt Azriel stiffen next to her.

"Who's this?" Devlon asked.

"A servant of Rhys, here to inspect his mothers cabin and check its structural integrity. She will be inside cooking and cleaning mostly, determining if it needs renovations." Cassian explained.

Devlons eyes glinted, as if he finally approved of something Cassian had said. Keeping a female confined to the house to cook and clean. Zara averted her eyes downwards from his gaze, submissively. His stare remained.

"She is under the High Lord's protection, and is to be left alone." Azriel growled, speaking at last. His voice was guttural, and threat lined his every word.

Devlons eyes finally left Zara. But she could feel the stares of the other males around her, she could scent their interest.

"So long as she stays in her kitchen, she will be." Devlon said finally, addressing only Azriel and Cassian, as if addressing a female directly was beneath him. Cassian was tense, but nodded. His hand came around to the small of Zara's back, and she shrunk into Cassian as if desperate for his protection. Zara saw the smirks of the illyrian men around her, and knew what they saw.