Hybern's men cheered at the sight of the small, battered body and I felt a violent maelstrom of power and emotion from my mate. All of my focus narrowed to that gruesome reminder of all that Hybern and his allies had done to me. Had stolen from my family.
Mor was saying something to me, but all I could focus on was breathing through the fear and fury that threatened to drown me. The bleeding broken creature that was nurtured under the ministrations of Brannagh and Dagdan clawed at me, begging for control. Begging for me to run while I still could. To hide.
The weight of the ring on my finger and the crown on my head seemed to anchor me in place. I could hear the sounds of a gentle symphony like a caress in my ear and I shut my eyes, sinking deep into the sound. Rhys was there in the darkness of my closed eyes, pushing aside his own turmoil to sink into our bond like an endless sea of night.
When I opened my eyes again, I was ready.
Mor looked concerned and I noticed she'd moved closer to form a living wall between me and the other fae standing around the terrace. The nobles and courtiers that had been milling around in the entrance were now watching the battle brewing below with a mixture of horror and bloodlust. Their eyes glowed with power and were fixed on the line of soldiers below. It reminded me that I was not among humans.
You aren't human any longer, a hated, inner voice reminded me.
It was true. My time in the human realm and interaction proved that there was no chance of me ever returning to the girl I'd been before. And I was glad for it.
The girl who had fallen for Tamlin, who had gone Under the Mountain for him, had died there. And in the cool darkness of that place between death and life, I emerged. I would not allow Hybern and his minions to take that from me.
Below me, a long, low trumpet sounded across the plains and a wave of eerie silence fell. A loud, pulsing beat slowly built from the fae gathered at Adriata's wall as they banged the swords to their shields. Rhysand and Tamlin stood resolute at the front of their combined forces with Cassian and Azriel moving back and forth across the Illyrian lines that rose up into the sky.
I wanted to be there. Wanted to prove that I was no one's victim and that I was fully capable of adding my own bodies to the pile. That I could make them regret their bloody reminder of all they'd done to me.
Perhaps I wasn't so different from the fae any more.
Hybern's soldiers screamed in rage and anticipation, craving the violence that lingered in the air, but their generals did not signal for them to advance. Tarquin's armor flashed in the afternoon sun as his arm dropped and the Prythian forces surged forward. Arrows and magic cut through the air from both sides, trying to break the lines below.
I leaned forward, my eyes searching for familiar shapes and poured power down our link, giving Rhys anything he needed to end this.
A wave of inky darkness smashed into the front lines like the waves of the beach not far off. Even from this distance, I heard the screams shift from excitement to horror as Hybern's soldiers were suddenly blind and vulnerable to the bursts of magic raining from above.
Those that managed to crawl their way free of Rhysand's nightmare found themselves meeting the combined might of the Illyrians and the Summer soldiers. Blood sprayed in graceful arcs of violent intention and it was strange to watch something that would have horrified me a year ago with such disconnect. Now I knew that for every one of Hybern's men that fell today was one less innocent at risk.
The wobbling mass of battered soldiers broke against the waves of the High Lords' might and the protective fury of Summer. They surged forward into the middle of Hybern's men, scattering their lines and forcing them to retreat back to their camp tents and supply carts.
My heart gave a painful lurch in my chest and I found myself subconsciously running my hand over my still flat stomach. Was this all it would take to defeat Hybern? Two High Lords working together in a cobbled together defense? We were missing something, but I wasn't sure what.
"They're going to do it," Mor whispered, almost like a prayer.
I didn't respond-distracted once again by a sensation I couldn't see. My magic was boiling in my chest in a riotous dance, responding to a siren's call I couldn't hear.
But I could feel it.
Pulling me to the edge of the terrace until only Mor's grip on my arm stopped me from stepping out as though I could fly. Building in the air until it was a struggle to breathe, to think, to rationalize what was going on. My ears popped as the pressure built to a crescendo.
My chest was painfully tight so I clawed at my mate bond, screaming to Rhys.
The Cauldron!
I didn't know what was happening or even if Rhysand could stop it but the panic inside me was out of my control. He had to get away. He had to be safe.
Run, Rhys!
I felt him turn his attention to me, trying to disengage from the clash of swords and battle around him, but I knew it was already too late. In a painful surge, the pressure broke and I felt the Cauldron's magic burst through the plains, slamming into everyone like a blow and bringing us to our knees painfully.
One of the courtiers was screaming and I caught sight of another slamming into the conference table where our drinks remained untouched. Glass shattered and rained down like diamonds all over the city, adding to the chaos all around. It was lucky for us that the terrace was open and without many new hazards created with the shockwave of magic.
Wincing at my bruised knees, I helped pull Mor to her feet and turned to the battleground, heart in my throat.
"No…" I whispered in horror.
Below us, in the space where the Summer soldiers had made their stand to block the gaping holes in the city walls, stood a new army. They wore a dark red uniform, the gruesome color of old blood their only adornment. Compared to the wild violence of Hybern's first army, these were utterly silent, controlled.
Waiting.
The Summer and Night soldiers scrambled to respond to the new threat but they were now trapped in between the two groups. I could feel Rhysand realizing the trap that had been set for them. His violet gaze seemed to meet mine even from this distance and I took a shaky breath.
I wished I could tell him to go. To take that massive power and use it to ensure the safety of the Inner Circle and our child and go home. But that would just mean a different kind of wound to Rhysand's soul. So I told him the only thing I could.
I love you. Come back to me.
An ebony claw slowly traced the edge of my mental shield as he murmured back, As if I could ever leave you, Feyre darling.
My smile was wobbly and I forced myself to consider our options. Straightening my spine, I raised my voice so the everyone on the terrace could hear. "Gather all of your able-bodied fighters and go to the gates," I ordered to the shell shocked crowd. "Any magic users with ranged skills can assemble at the guard towers. Focus on breaking up their units and supporting any ground troops."
When they hesitated, Mor snarled softly, "You have been given a command by the High Lady of the Night Court. Move."
Finally, they began to scramble to attempt to raise a sufficient defense for Adriata and gather the remaining guards. I returned to my vantage point and eyed the new group of soldiers warily. Would they flank the exposed army of Summer and Night or invade the weakened city?
My answer came within moments as the group split-the larger portion moving to surround the rear flank of Adriata's army while the smaller moved deeper into the city.
Mor scowled, "We don't have the manpower gathered to present any kind of coordinated counter attack."
"We need to let them move deeper into the city."
Her blue eyes flicked to me in surprise, "What?"
"If we can get them in the city," I said, the beginnings of a plan forming in my mind, "we can surround them. Pick them off one by one and force them to choose between battling on the plains or sending more soldiers into the city." Mor nodded, her attention moving back to the city wall as I continued, "See if we can find any officers in their midst and break up their coordination."
She nodded, moving to speak with one of the servants nearby who was acting as a messenger to the rest of the palace.
Because her back was turned, she didn't see the small force pause at the edge of the city, nearly standing on top of the meager defenses they'd cut down. Two figures emerged from the soldiers with a fluid grace that made ice curl through my veins. They slowly, leisurely, surveyed the ruins of Adriata before raising their heads to the terrace above the palace, finding me with the ease of a bloodhound.
I saw the flash of teeth in a cruel smile before the smaller of the two waved cheerfully. The breath in my lungs seemed to disappear with the blood that was pounding in my ears and my hands clenched around my blade until it hurt. The two fae generals who so often graced my nightmares turned their backs on the terrace and signalled to the rest of their soldiers.
We meet again, Feyre darling, Brannagh whispered along the edges of my mental shield.
Thank you again to those of you who continue to read and review Broken Dreams! It is so wonderful to read your feedback and I look forward to checking out each and every new review.
If you haven't already, please check out my new story The Thief and the Soldier! I will be updating the two stories in rotation, so you can flip back and forth between the stories with new updates every few days. I hope you fall in love with these characters like I did!