Wings of Shadow

CHAPTER 1

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RHYSAND

It was very common to wake up in the early hours of the morning these days. Keeping an unstable peace in a continent such as Prythian, especially after a war, was tricky business. Now that things were starting to go back to what they were before, there was even more work to do in order to ensure that the agreement over the treaty was upheld by all.

It was uncommon, however, to awake in a house that seemed to be bursting in anxiety and worry. That feeling clung to me, to the walls and the stones of the street outside, but I wasn't feeling that same dread. In fact, I had woken up pleasantly naked in my mate's arms, before a string of worry pulled me away from that warmth and into the roof of the house.

I knew that my worry didn't come from Cassian either, who was still very much asleep downstairs in one of the guest rooms, as I could hear his snores coming from below. If it wasn't me, and it wasn't him, it had to be Azriel.

In fact, my brother showed up not even two seconds later, carrying a bloody mass in his arms. He was exhausted, his wings pulled tight, and his shadows swirling around him with an unseen agitation.

"Rhys," he croaked. "A healer."

My brow furrowed, a line of worry crossing down the middle of my forehead. The blood on him wasn't his, I could smell it. It belonged to the mass in his arms, whose chest barely rose with each breath.

"Who?" I asked.

"Marzia."

That name alone set me in motion. I told him to take her to the small infirmary we kept in our house and set her on the table. Then, I personally flew all the way to Madja's house.

It was unusual, if not unbelievable, to hear that name coming from Azriel. It had been over a century since he had uttered it, decades since Cassian had jokingly brought it up. To hear him say it, with a desperation that bordered in insanity, was entirely different.

Madja was thankfully awake and alert and joined me without hesitation. The severity of the situation must have shown in my face, and she said nothing as I flew as fast as I could back to the house.

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The atmosphere in the infirmary was bleak. The little table in the middle now held an unmoving form that was deadly pale, while her blood soaked up the boards below her back.

Grief was etched in Azriel's face, as his fingers intertwined with hers until his knuckles turned white.

"Save her," he whispered, barely audible. "Please."

Madja nodded and began to work silently.

I took a few steps towards Azriel, placing a hand on his tense shoulder. He acknowledged me with a nod but stayed still.

"What happened?" I asked.

As soon as those words were out of my lips, Madja gasped loudly and asked us to help her. She wanted us to turn Marzia around. When we did, I felt my stomach lurch. I had never met her, but I knew that she had wings - wings that were no longer there, judging by the gashes on her back.

Madja's work became almost frantic, while Azriel slumped as if defeated, and I fought back the urge to vomit.

"Azriel," I repeated, as strongly as I could. "What happened?"

"I found her like this in the Steppes. Someone attacked her."

I watched how his eyes focused solely on Madja's work, and I knew I wouldn't get much from him like this. I stepped away from him, taking a seat in a small stool, and waited - while I went deep inside my memories.