A Court of Shadows and Stars; Azriel

XIV

Dawn broke, gilding the low-lying mists snaking over the plains of the mortal lands.

Hybern had destroyed everything in his wake, all the way from the Spring Court to the sea.

Including my sister's village.

There was nothing left but smoking cinders and crumbled stone as we marched through.

The Illyrians were impatient, testy. Practically foaming at the mouths at the order to wait for the others.

Keir and his Darkbringers were wise enough to keep their distaste off of their tongues and faces.

I helped Feyre and Nesta into Illyrian fighting leathers, before changing into them myself. I chuckled at Elain's crimson face as we stepped out of the wagon. She gratefully took Viviane's Winter Court clothes since they were far less scandalous.

Her blushing face turned white as death when Cassian handed her a knife.

I nudged Azriel's side and he limped over to Elain and Cassian.

"This is Truth-Teller," he told her softly. "Lorelai and I won't be using it today- so I want you to."

I stared at Az's back. His wings had healed, but long scars now raked them. We had an argument with Rhys this morning. Azriel insisted that he could fly, and I insisted that I could fight with the legions- like we planned.

Rhys refused.

Cassian refused.

Azriel threatened to slip into the shadows and fight anyway. Rhys merely whispered something to him that I couldn't hear. Whatever it was, it caused them both to glance at me. Reluctantly, the both of us agreed to be eyes and ears and nothing else.

Elain's eyes widened at the sight of the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel's scarred hands.

"It's never failed either of us," he said, glancing back at me. "Some people say it is magic and will always strike true."

I walked over and joined them. Gently, I took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. "It will serve you well."

"I- I don't know how to use it-"

"I will make sure you don't have to," Feyre said, nodding to us.

Elain wrapped her slim fingers around the hilt at her sister's words.

Cassian and Rhys gawked at Azriel since he has never let anyone besides me touch the knife.

Rhys and Feyre looked like they were communicating down their bond, and Mor and Amren sauntered over in dark armor.

When everyone was gathered around, Rhys asked,

"Do you want the inspiring talk or the bleak one?"

"We want the real one," Amren said.

Rhys pushed his shoulders back and elegantly folded his wings.

"I believe that everything happens for a reason. Whether its decided by the Mother, the Cauldron, or some sort of tapestry of Fate, I don't care."

"Whatever it is, I'm grateful for it. Grateful for it bringing each one of you all into my life."

"If I had not met an Illyrian warrior-in-training, I would not have learned the true depths of strength, honor, or of loyalty," he said, looking at Cassian.

He turned to Azriel, "If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that family is not one you are born into, but the one you make."

Azriel bowed his head in thanks and Rhys looked at me next.