❝ Sometimes I feel like I have changed into something unrecognizable, but then I see you, and the love I feel tethers me back to this earth ❞
Maiya was walking a fine line. On one side was safety; her brother and mother and love, but the other was c...
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"𝔐aiya, what do you want done with the spares?" I turned at Firoh's shout, pushing the leaders head further into the ground as I located my second in command. The taller man was walking along a row of prisoners as I hummed.
"Have we got any use for them?"
"No."
"Then kill them." I grabbed the leader by the wings, dragging him along behind me as he whimpered and cried out. Isaak walked on the other side of me, cleaning blood from his hands. "The women and children?"
"Memories have been wiped, all injuries healed and sent along to the women's only camp in Illyria. A few of ours are following and making sure they arrive." Isaak explained, as he wiped the last of the blood from his hand. "They'll be there by morning and we'll ensure that the leader is ready for them."
"Good. Go check over our soldiers, then come home." I told him, before grabbing Miller, my head strategist. "Help Firoh burn the bodies, but please try not to start a forest fire."
"Aye." He shot me a lazy salute, before hurrying off to hopefully prevent a forest fire. I'm not sure how much faith I had in them, but I could only hope they'd manage that.
"Please, do not..." I gave the leader another kick in the face, scowling as he dared to touch my leg with his grubby little hands.
"You clipped little girls wings and betrayed your court, you don't get to talk," I hissed at him, scowling further. "Now, we're going back to Hewn so I can chuck you in a dungeon cell and torture you to my heart's content."
He began to sob, pleading and begging as more of my soldiers appeared, disposing of the Illyrian soldiers that had deflected against the Court. They'd come down from Illyria, where they knew they'd be hunted for what they did to young girls, and instead ended up near to Hewn so we'd taken it upon ourselves to dispose of them.
I rolled my eyes at the whining, making a mental note to take his tongue when I went to visit him and torture the location of the other deflected Illyrians from his lips. Maybe, when I was finished, I'd send his wings to Rhysand in a box.
The wind whipped around me, tugging at my hair and exposed skin, before I reappeared in the entry hall of the Hewn City. Soldiers rushed towards me in an instance, ready for my command.
"Take him to the cells, chain him up and take his siphons." I handed the prisoner over to my dungeon guards, who nodded and dragged him away. Turning back to the others, I cocked an eyebrow. "Why are you here and not training?"
"The Illyrian is here." Keir brushed through the crowd, waving the other soldiers away. He folded his arms across his chest, falling in beside me as my eyebrows furrowed. Azriel was here?
