A Different Type of Ending

Chapter 11 - Feyre

Feyre

I glared into the eyes of a beast I had hoped dead since the first time I saw it. The Attor glared back in challenge, but there was no recognition in its eyes of who I was. It had accepted my challenge then, and there was no way I was letting it win. Jurian looked between the two of us and wisely stepped out of the way, not daring to even question what stood in front of him. 
"Go ahead." I snarled, images of Clare's mutilated body flashing in my mind, never fading, only fuelling the deep rage that had ensnared my soul. The Attor's blade flashed, and in an instant mine met his. The sound rung through the crowd who were deathly silent, watching intently from the safety. The Attors struck again, this time moving with blade, attacking my side which was a bad decision on his part. I easily deflected his blow, swiftly changing to an offensive position. I wanted to gut him where he stood, no room for mercy, only bloodlust. It ripped at me, tore me apart, that I struggled to gain a grip on myself again. How could I break myself so thoroughly that even these small things made me lose my mind. I took a deep breath, and as I went for his legs my head cleared enough to think clearly, shadows gathered in a corner of my mind for later use. 

The Attor deflected every blow I aimed at him, and had started showing cracks in his defence, thinking I was weak and incapable of beating him. Then I struck, swift as an adder, I twirled around behind him, placing my sword against the back of his neck. He snarled in answer to my action but halted all movement. I leant forward and whispered in his ear, 
"You may not remember me, but I sure as hell remember you." I leant back again before pushing him away with the butt of my sword. He turned quickly around to face me, and when I opened my voice to say something he spoke instead.
"I remember you well enough to know you serve no one but yourself, that you are still as weak as you were as a human. You will be the death of us all." The crowd around us started whispering, confusion spreading across their faces. I bared my teeth at him, glaring. Before anyone could see, I had winnowed next to him, my blade gently placed against his throat. Those ghostly wings had reappeared behind me, and with them came the shadows, swarming around my mind and body. That shut everyone up. 
"If any of you dare speak like this to me, or any of your superiors, I will not hesitate to slit your throat where you stand." I snarled at the crowd, loud enough for even those at the back to hear. "However, I will spare your life." I growled at the Attor, no hint of kindness in my voice. Ghostly talons appeared at my finger tips. The Attor's screams rung through the clearing as I ran then down his wings, shredding them to little more than ribbons. 
"If anyone," I shouted at the people around me, "helps this pathetic excuse for a creature, you're next." With that I kicked the Attor to the floor and gave the crowd and innocent, deadly smile. "Who's next?" 

Only one person stepped forward, a smirk in their eyes, but it wasn't one of confidence, it was one I had seen in the eyes of my Court. One of mischief, and joy, and for the hell of it. I raised my sword and met their smirk with one of my own. The male was taller than me, though only slightly, with shaggy blonde hair that hung down over his eyes which were a forest green colour. Now that I think about it, he looked strangely similar to Tamlin, and I didn't believe in coincidences. He struck first, bringing his sword up towards my head, and when I went to defend myself he swiftly changed his attack, instead going for my stomach. I was only just fast enough to stop the blade. I looked up at him,
"Who are you?" I asked, pushing him and his blade away from me. He didn't attack again, instead giving me a toothy grin.
"The name's Sion." He said, his voice smooth and even, and still unnervingly similar to Tamlin's. I lowered my sword and he did the same, and we both just stood watching each other. Neither of us attacked, nor did we raise our swords again. Everything about him, so terribly familiar, yet so different to the man hiding in his mansion. 
"What is your relationship with the High Lord?" I asked, finally breaking the silence, finally giving in to my questions. Sion's smile disappeared from his face then, but he remained silent. My eyes narrowed at him, the way he looked at me, the way he reacted to Tamlin. "Cauldron all mighty, just answer my question." I said, strongly this time.
"Tamlin is my cousin, but he means no more to me than the other soldiers here." He said in a low voice, almost with a sort of anger in his voice. I narrowed my eyes at him, with his focus now veery much on the ground. 
"Okay then Captain, enjoy yourself, get these idiots ready for tomorrow. I expect a full briefing by nine. Do whatever you must." I turned away from him as he looked back up at me. I winked over my shoulder, smirking, and I could have sworn there was a hint of a smile on his face. I nodded to Jurian who walked beside me back up the hill.

Neither of us spoke a word, each consumed by silence and we headed towards the main command tent. Kert and Alvar had disappeared into the crowd, deciding against challenging the new leadership. We got to the tent which was filled with soldiers from wall to wall, all scouring maps and staring and names on lists. 
"Out." I snarled at them all, not in the mood for an argument, and they all did it swiftly and without question. If I ever went back to the Illyrian camps, I wondered if I could hold such power. Probably not, stupid, pissy, Illyrian males and their self-righteousness. The tent flaps closed behind them as they left, leaving me and Jurian alone and staring at each other, each of us with questions swarming in our eyes and, to be honest, I wasn't surprised when he spoke first. However, I was taken aback by the question itself, and I didn't know how deep it would hit. 
"When did you know Rhysand was your mate?" My heart fractured into a million at the name finally said aloud and I sucked in a sharp breath. The pieces scattered, broken and irreparable. Perhaps the cure would lie in the answer, if only I could persuade myself to finally say that gods-damned name.