Chapter Text
“What’s happened?” Asked Rhys, pushing back his sleep-mussed hair. Feyre blinked sleepily up at me from beside him.
“We have to go to Hybern,” I said, attempting to keep my voice steady. Shadows flew to and fro around my head, listening for further communication.
“Why? There’s nothing left there.”
I paused in their doorway, struggling to reconcile that fact with the voice that reached out to me just a few minutes ago. The silence I now experienced from my shadows was unusual.
“There’s someone there. A woman.”
“How? You saw for yourself the aftermath of the looting,” countered Rhys. "The castle may be burned to the ground by now.”
“She spoke to me. Just now, she spoke to a shadow that I had cast in that direction. She needs help.”
“What did she say?” Feyre asked, rising.
I averted my eyes and turned my body slightly, giving her a little privacy to grab a robe from the wall. It had been less than a week since the king of Hybern was killed. Not enough time for any of us to recover from the devastation, the near loss of our High Lord, and the ever changing diplomatic relations. Feyre’s unusual vigilance over her mate was not lost on me. When Rhys was called away somewhere without Cassian or myself, I could see her anxiety. But her dedication to her people since the war prevented her from letting sentimental feelings get in the way of her duty. The work she did among the people gave Rhys freedom to manipulate politics while they were still fluid.
“It was a short message,” I answered her, willing my wings to remain still while I waited for them to dress. “Just a cry for help. She spoke to my shadow from quite a distance. I’ve never…” I cut myself off with an agitated breath.
Rhys and Feyre looked at each other. They seemed to understand the unspoken, ‘I’ve never experienced anything like it before.’
Rhys finally said, “It won’t take long if we winnow most of the way.”
I replayed the scene in my head over and over as we flew the final way to Hybern:
I lay on my stomach in the dark, sleep evading me as usual. My fingertips traced the jagged lines on my hands in continuous circles. My shadows were excited, providing a constant buzz around my head even at the late hour. They drowned out the sounds of Velaris at night. I listened occasionally, but never caught anything tangible. Then suddenly I heard her voice, as clear as if she had stood beside my bed and spoke to me.
“Help. Help me. Hybern’s castle.”
The boom of my wings provided a soothing rhythm to my mind. Even in that short communication, her voice seemed familiar. It reminded me of my mother’s voice. I felt sure that she could have pushed images through the shadow messenger, but instead I only received fragmented sounds and smells. Muffled screaming, wet stones under her hands, a constant drip echoing off the walls, the smell of mildew and rotten hay. And then came a profound silence. I flung my shadows out in her direction again and again, with no reply. It didn't feel like I had overheard her voice in the wind. It was as if she had taken hold of one of my shadows, imprinted her message, and thrown it back to me.
We finally flew over the castle. The bone-white spires were formidable, drawing a stark contrast to the shadows below. Rhys and Feyre circled three times, checking for wards. There was no need. Looters had come and gone easily enough.
We landed silently. I led the way to the dungeon as quickly as I could. My shadows swirled, searching for signs of her. It appeared that not even wild animals ventured here yet. The inside was thoroughly ransacked. I couldn’t sense a single living being behind these walls.
The cells were ghostly in the faint light Rhysand provided. They smelled of death and old feces. Bodies in varying degrees of decomposition were piled haphazardly into one cell we passed.
“There’s no one here,” Feyre said softly. We had reached the end of the row.
My shadows circled like vultures while I whirled around, searching for her.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Rhysand yelled as loud as he dared in the eerie space. He was met with only the faint sound of dripping water behind the wall somewhere.
“She’s behind this wall,” I told him. I was not at all certain, but kept my face blank as I quickly lifted my chin.
Feyre and Rhys exchanged a long glance.
“I can smell her,” I lied. There was a warm female smell here, just barely cutting through the rotting flesh. But it was faded, and I had no way of knowing if it belonged to her. I felt myself growing more desperate as the minutes ticked by.
“Azriel,” Rhys asked quietly, “are we looking for your mate?”
I gathered my shadows around me and gave no answer. This was not the time or place for self assessment.
To my great relief, Feyre and Rhysand concentrated their efforts on the stones. It was no great task to bring them down, and they attempted to contain the rubble to our side of the wall. Her smell hit me full in the face as soon as I could see through the dust. It was polluted with fear and blood. I launched myself through the opening, my brother and his mate following close behind.
She lay chained to the corner, with her wrists tied behind her back. Her tunic was torn and stained, and her hair fell matted over her face. My eyes were immediately drawn to the device surrounding her head. It was a thin cap, rather like a straight jacket, running around her head, down her cheeks, and across her eyes. She seemed, through some desperation, to have maneuvered it just slightly up to one side, exposing a sliver of her left eye.
Rhys worked on severing the blindfold while I checked her breathing and heart rate. Our hands didn’t rouse her, but she was alive. The hateful headdress was removed, revealing a pale face that was sunken by starvation. Her breath rasped shallowly through dry lips. I quickly pulled out a flask of water and wet her mouth. She was not conscious enough to drink, but I knew a little would do her good.
“We have to get to back to Velaris quickly,” Rhysand told me. He severed the bindings on her wrists with half a thought. The memory of her plea resounded over and over in my head as I pulled her to my chest and rose.
I held her tightly as we winnowed, partly to protect her unconscious form, and partly to raise her body temperature. Her loose black hair occasionally whipped around my neck, bathing my face in her warm, honey scent. Feyre took us the final stretch, and I loosed a breath of relief as the House of Wind loomed suddenly ahead.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can with a healer,” said Rhys, not even bothering to touch his feet to the balcony as he deposited Feyre to the floor and flew away.
Nuala met us in the sitting room at the House of Wind. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, warming my wings. It was an unusually warm day, one that made flying up here a great pleasure. She gave me an update on her patient, her voice so quiet that I had to utilize my shadows to hear her.
“She sleeps fitfully, but has been awake now for close to an hour. She is healing well. She has not spoken to us.”
I thanked her, and followed Rhys and Feyre to the woman’s bedroom. It had taken three days of semi-consciousness before she was well enough for solid foods and visitors. I checked in as often as I could, sometimes several times a day. She was never aware of my presence. Partly because of her incapacitated state, and partly because I cast my shadows around me and stood in the corner of the room like a prowling idiot.
The impact of her scent had lessened from repeated exposure, but I still forced my eyes to stay on her hands until I had control over myself. She sat against the headboard, blankets pulled up to her armpits. Her gaze did not linger on me, sliding carefully over Feyre and finally resting on Rhysand. Mate. No, an abused woman. She almost died. The marks on her neck had faded, leaving behind pale skin that reminded me of Rhys when he returned from under the mountain. Her face was thin, with no color in her cheeks.
“My name is Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. This is my mate Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court, and my spymaster Azriel.” Her wide, somber eyes flicked over my weapons and clothes before darting back to Rhys, never looking me full in the face. I was bracing for the slap of the mating bond. When she ignored me so fully, it was both a relief and a frustration.
“You are safe here,” Rhys continued. “Please rest as long as you need.”
“What’s your name?” Feyre asked softly.
She didn’t open her mouth, but continued to look between us like a nervous animal.
“Can you speak?” Feyre tried again.
She gave a minute shake of her head.
“Can you perhaps write it?” Rhys asked, summoning a paper and pen out of the air and wafting them to lay next to her hand on the bed.
She stared quietly at the paper as if she’d never seen one before. As the silence stretched on, my wings shuffled in frustration. I had not expected her inability to communicate.
Her gaze shot to my face, shocking me with the sudden connection. Every part of me suddenly became hyper aware of every part of her. Her dark lashes, her starved collarbones peeking out of the robe, the soft inhale and exhale of breath through her small lips. Even as prepared as I was, my body involuntarily lurched forward. The action sparked a quick surge of fear in her face, as under her lifted brows, her eyes… Her eyes turned bright silver. Rhysand instantly moved his body to stand in front of Feyre. The woman’s fierce eyes shot to him. I noted her fingers curl, pressing the pen into her palm.
“It’s alright,” Feyre soothed, “Rhysand, everything is alright.”
I stepped back into my previous place. The woman, seemingly seeing something in Rhys’ face that calmed her, relaxed her shoulders. Her eyes softened back to their original shade of green, and finally rested on the view out of her window. I clenched my jaw to resist the impulse to say something foolish. Something Lucien would say.
Rhys stared at my mate for a long moment, then said, “We will let you get some rest. Please let Nuala and Cerridwen know if you need anything.”
“What was that?” Feyre asked when we landed back in Velaris.
“I don’t know,” Rhys replied, “but it’s safe to assume that she has some kind of powers. This must be why Hybern took such pains to keep her eyes covered.”
He kept her in the dark. My heart constricted sharply in my chest. I knew exactly what it was to live isolated in darkness. How long had she suffered there? Did she know Hybern was dead? My wings twitched to turn around and fly back to the House of Wind.
“And what was THAT?” demanded Rhys, turning to me.
An embarrassing lapse of self control. My shadows swarmed my head.
“She may be unable to read and write,” I said, ignoring his question, “but she can be taught.”
“Perhaps she can learn in the library,” Rhys answered. “If we can be assured she is no danger to anyone, and if the priestesses will accept her.”
“No. We can’t lock her away again after what she went through.”
“She would be surrounded by understanding women, in a safe place,” responded Rhys, raising an eyebrow. “There is no better situation for her.”
“You didn’t put Feyre there when she came to us.” It was a low blow I knew, but I was desperate to maintain access to her. I was as good as any priestesses when it came to commiserating. I could comfort her. I longed, even as she glared at me with those strange eyes, to take her into my arms and fly until she was at peace.
“He needed me to help with Hybern,” Feyre spoke up, “and I would have died inside to be stuck in yet another house.”
“Yes, exactly. She needs freedom and friends.”
“You want to be her friend,” Rhys stated softly.
Irritation burned up my chest. If anyone could relate to me at this moment, it was my brother. But I knew how often he considered himself an exception to the rule. I had come too close to exposing myself to them. She could not afford me to be weak today.
“I want to strengthen our court with every power we have access to, not lock them up in a library,” I told him. “Now if that is all, I have work across the city. I will keep you updated on her condition.”
“Be well, brother.”
I darted into the sky, a breeze from the river caressing my face. She was here now. She was safe. I would protect her from Rhysand’s hasty decisions, and I would make inquiries. Her identity would not be a mystery for much longer.