A Court of Blood and Glory

Devlon

Rhysand

I was embarrassed of myself as we walked towards the command tent, and saw Devlon standing outside, arms crossed.
Every Illyrian was staring at me, at my wingless back. They didn't say anything, but I would have felt better if they had, as I could deal with whispering.
Too soon we reached the command tent, and Devlon looked to me with disgust.
"So it is true." He said, glaring at me. "The half breed Illyrian whore has become a wingless piece of filth." My family growled at him, Azriel's and Cassian's siphons blazing, but I remained silent as he spoke, too ashamed of myself and too shocked by his words to say anything. "If you think I will be led into battle by a wingless Illyrian you have the wrong idea." At those words I finally found my voice, and I growled back at him.

"I may not have my wings but I am still your high Lord, and if you think that being led by me is the worst thing that could happen to you, you have another thing coming. If we lose this war you will be the next to lose your wings, along with every other Illyrian in Prythian." He paled at my words, and at the rage in my voice. The threat of losing his wings was enough to change his mind, but to ensure it I allowed some of my darkness to deep out, showing him exactly who he was dealing with; the most powerful High Lord ever to rule in all of Prythian.

My inner circle and I walked past Devlon into the command tent, prepared to lead the Illyrian legions with or without Devlon.

Feyre

I had felt Rhys's pain as Devlon spoke, felt how hard those words struck home, because they were true. He was Amarantha's whore. He was a half breed. He was a wingless Illyrian. And the truth hurt.
I kept sending him my thoughts down our bond, telling him how much we loved him, how much I loved him, after everything. He had held himself together, but he was still healing.
"So what do you want?" Devlon asked, seeming to understand who he was dealing with.
"Owing to my... condition, I won't be able to fight with the Illyrian legions." Devlon only grunted at that. "Because of this Cassian will be leading you from the skies whilst I fight on the ground." His eyes flicked to Cassian, to the seven siphons decorating his leathers. Another grunt.
"Is that all? Because I need to train my winged Illyrians."
Bastard. I could have killed him there but Feyre touched my back, calming me. Devlon noticed the movement, and didn't hesitate to comment. "I see that Tamlin's whore is being put to good use. I'm sure your heir is going to be very powerful. Maybe they will be a whore like their parents."

I snapped. We all did, attacking Devlon with fists instead of magic. My family had discovered Feyre's pregnancy that morning, but
We had been hoping that Feyre could get through the war without our enemies hearing of it, try to reduce the target on her, but if Devlon could scent it then any fae would know too.
Just another issue to add to my list of problems.
Once we had finished with Devlon he was a bloody mess. We would have killed him, or torn off his wings, but we still needed him to fight; if we couldn't ally the other courts we would need as many soldiers as we could get, Devlon included.

I need to call a meeting with the other High Lords to get them to unite against Hybern.
All of them?
I knew who Feyre was referring to.
He has allied himself with Hybern, probably, so we won't push him to come, but he still needs to be invited.
I don't think I can see him without killing him.

Neither do I.

After bringing Devlon up to speed on the new plans, ensuring that he was scared enough not to betray us, we returned to Velaris, and found Amren awaiting us with a parcel on the table.

Amren smiled at me, a rare sight, as I took a step towards it, my breathing becoming shallow.
"Is that- are they.." I couldn't speak.
"Those are your new wings." Feyre said, her eyes soft. She walked with me towards the table and held my hand as I tugged on the string that bound the paper. It fell away, the paper with it, to reveal large plates of black metal, welded together to form beautifully crafted wings.
My wings.
I cried. I didn't care. I was so happy. I lifted them out of the package and spread them out over the table. They had an impressive wingspan, larger than Cassian's.
"I was talked through how to put them on." Amren said, her eyes lined with silver. "You will need to lie down, shirt off." She said, and I felt Feyre get a little too excited through our bond.
We still have eight months and twenty eight days to go Feyre darling. I don't think you should torture yourself by looking at my gorgeous body.
Prick.
I could feel her laughter down the bond, and it made my smile at her, my grin twin to one on her face.
"Feyre, Mor come help me with these." Amren said, handing Mor a wing. "Cassian, Azriel, you need to hold Rhys down, Feyre you need to calm him."

I felt a brief flicker of panic, but it was quickly drowned out with excitement. "This is going to hurt a lot, Rhys."
And at that Amren and Mor pushed the wings into my back, two thin plates cutting into my recently healed stumps.
Blood began to pool onto the floor as I felt pieces of metal move inside me, but I the pain was worth it.

Feyre kept sending me calming images, but they soon became sexual once I began to push against Cassian and Azriel. I kept seeing her in bed, myself in bed, and it was with those images that I blacked out, whether from blood loss or pain I didn't know, but I didn't care; I had my wings back.