Chapter Thirty-two
When Naya looked back and tried to account for her life, she realized she could trace all the happiness she had ever experienced back to a single moment. It was kind of ironic that moment also happened to have been the most painful.
Even as she stared down the steel of death, she knew the only thing that would ever compare would be if she were to lose her mate. And yet, it was kind of beautiful, the kind of beautiful that one could find when the sky cleared after a storm, or in the comforting kiss a mother gave to her child after they'd fallen.
Because that agony had brought joy and love and friendship. Because it had made her feel like more than just a little girl hiding beneath her wings and trying only to survive.
If she were to die today, she had left her mark, and at least, she hoped, there would be people who remembered her fondly. Even after they moved on from her death. Even when Azriel found someone else to help heal his own pain.
Naya clung to that feeling, allowed it to soothe away the anxiety that threatened to throw her over. She hid her shaking hands behind her back and looked to the people who had given her life.
It was only right that she returned the favor if she could.
For them, she would give anything.
Cassian and Rhysand spoke in hushed tones across the room, discussing things Naya didn't have the energy or want to be a part of. Soon, Azriel would be winnowing her to the field where she would trade herself for Elain, and whatever last-minute plans they hoped to cook up didn't seem like they would be doing her any good. Their frustrated and clipped outbursts were enough to tell her that they'd come up with nothing that could somehow save the day.
She wanted to spend whatever time she had left with Azriel, whether it be in his arms or by his side. But he had left almost as soon as the decision had been made, leaping from the balcony and winnowing out of sight without another word.
Feyre had seen her worry, watched her following step, and had assured her he would be back, that he wouldn't abandon them now.
Naya prayed she was right, prayed that if he could not handle delivering her to the enemy, he would at least return in time to say goodbye. She would not fault him if that was his decision. She only wanted one last look so that she could brand his face into the recesses of her mind, so that she may carry it with her to whatever came after.
In the end, her worry was mute. Azriel returned with twenty minutes to spare. He strode across the room towards her, his expression cloaked, blank and stoic in his usual manner when he was feeling something deeply and needed his shields in place.
Naya reached for him, didn't care if his family saw that she came suddenly alive at his presence, didn't care what they would make of it. He took her hands, pulled her in closer so that they were embracing. Her body went slack against his, and she allowed him to support her.
His heart thud, thud, thudded against her ear.
"You can change your mind." It was on the cusp of being a plea. If they both didn't know Elain's life was on the other end of that plea, it would have been. She knew it would have.
She couldn't speak, so she shook her head to reject it before it festered and became a real possibility. She'd only ever wanted to survive before. If she thought too long on it, she would have to face that she now wanted to live.
Azriel pried her away from him gently, held her out so that she would look at him.
"Then I want you to take this." He plucked a small, golden pouch from his pocket. The fabric was embroidered with black roses, the thorns sharp and threatening. He loosened the strings on the top and emptied the contents into his hand.
A silver-banded ring settled into his palm, thick with two clovers soldered into each side. A small, blue gemstone was nestled on the top, barely the size of the top of a nail; the color almost perfectly matched the siphons that glowed on his person.
"It cannot protect you." He slid it over the knuckle of her pointer finger where it came to a rest and pulsed faintly. He sounded pained to say it, agonized that this was the best her could give her. "But it will allow me to find you when your heart calls for me. Do all you can to make sure they do not see it. They may recognize it."
Amren stepped around them, sized up the ring with a suspicion that had her eyes narrowing.
"Where did you get it?" she asked pointedly.
Azriel did not hesitate against the accusation. "I stole in from the Day Court."
He glanced down at the slip of a female without lowering his raised chin, met her stare for stare, challenged her to say something about it. She lifted her hand to examine her nails, and shrugged her shoulders, unperturbed.
"Nice." Was all she said before she walked away again.
Naya didn't have time to think about what repercussions could come from Azriel stealing a magical ring from another Court, could only be grateful that she now had something that may just bring her back to them all. If they didn't plunge a blade into her heart as soon as they had her.
"It's time." Cassian's voice carried, and as if he were a doctor to tell the harrowing news of a spreading disease, every sorry gaze turned to Naya. She was the infected, and they pitied her.
Cassian came to stand before her, surprised her by pulling her away from Azriel and into a hug of his own. His warm cheek pressed into hers. His hair tickled the skin.
"We will come for you." He vowed, and she had to fight the sob that wanted to tear from her throat at the declaration.
The time they had spent together had been meaningful. They had laughed together, shared meals at the same table, fought for their people's rights side by side. She circled her arms around his waist, returned his tightening squeeze.
She sniffed when she stepped back, tried to sound confident. "I'll be waiting."
He gave her a pained smile that cut at her harsher than any knife.
Mor stepped around Cassian, and the anger she had thrown at Naya had quieted. Her face was stained with lines of the charcoal she had painted around her eyes, giving her black tears as they fell, more softly, down her cheeks and over her jaw. She reached out and took Naya's hand, stoked a finger over the back of it. Her thumb rolled over the blue stone.
Her voice was quiet as her tear-filled gaze captured Naya's.
"I love her." Was all she could say, all she needed to say.
In the end, that's all that would matter. The accusations were forgiven and forgotten. She squeezed her hand in answer, tried to convey in that lone touch that everything would be okay even if Naya didn't know if it would be.
Naya spun to take in the room, one last look at the house that could have become her home, at the people who could have become her family. It was light outside, and the sun washed over the floors, streaked up the walls.
As she'd noticed before, Elain was everywhere, even in the smell of fresh flowers that tinged the air with their earthy and sweet aroma. Mostly, she was in the grieving faces of her family, in the desperation and terror in their eyes.
Naya didn't have to go far to reach Azriel. He had been following her less than a step behind as she'd said goodbye. She closed her fingers over the hand that hung at his side. He didn't seem to be able to lift it, to reach for her in that final moment that would have them through the window and winnowing towards whatever lay ahead.
She raised it to her lips, kissed along each reddened knuckle. "It's time, Azriel."
He faltered at her voice, and his mask slipped just enough to see the torment that had him closing his eyes against her words, of what they would bring. He was squeezing her hand so tightly it became painful, but a kind of pain she would readily take if it would steady him.
The clock ticked ominously above the fireplace, a death-toll that warned them not to be late with each strike of the smallest hand.
"I'll take her." Mor rushed forward, too frantic for her offer to pass as anything but an urgency to get Naya to that field.
Naya wanted it to be him, wanted her final moments to be, if that's what it came to, in his presence. She wanted that last flight, however short, to be the two of them, wrapped in the sky, no different and just as belonging as the clouds and stars and sun and moon.
"No." Azriel rejected, and Naya let loose a held breath. "I'll be the one to take her."
He lifted her shakily into his arms, the steel cords of muscles trembling beneath her shoulders and knees. He didn't wait for anyone to speak; perhaps he couldn't stand to hear what they would say, and leapt over the railing with her tucked securely against his chest.
They were free-falling, hundreds of feet towards solid ground. They cut through the air, a dark shadow that gained speed as it crashed towards impact. Naya opened her mouth to scream, but the wind filled her throat, blocked any sound that tried to escape.
She glanced frantically up at Azriel, clung as tightly as she could to his arms. Just as soon as she was sure they were going to hit, he winnowed and they were gliding.
His wings spread out to either side of him where they flew high above the trees and snow. He was searching, a hawk in the air with eyes honed to find the smallest prey. He located them before she did, the two Illyrians who stood in the clearing, solid black against all the white, necks craned as they looked up at them. Naya followed his line of sight when it locked onto them. Elain was nowhere to be seen.
Azriel didn't land in front of them, as she'd expected, but rather, when he planted his boots again on the ground, they were a few hundred yards away. He lowered her to stand and used his lingering hold to rip her forward.
His lips were cold and hard, desperate in their need to touch her. She responded with all she had, knew this moment would be fleeting, knew they'd be crossing the expanse of that field in seconds. All that she wanted to say and never could would have to be conveyed through this.
"I know I'm silent." He rasped against her wetted mouth and each passing touch of his lips was another kiss in and of itself. "And I know I can never seem to find words to say, but my thoughts are screaming for you."
His gloved hands lifted, held either side of her face, stroked away tears she didn't know had fallen.
"You will be returned to me." His thumb passed over her cheek in a caress. "I will get you back."
She chose, because its all she could do, to believe him. If there was a way, some mercy the Mother felt like bestowing on them, she could make it out of this alive.
Her heart beat in her ears, a thrumming drum that drowned out the wind and sounds of the forest beyond. She took her first step, followed by Azriel, and convinced herself each step after would be easier because at least it was closer to the end.
The two Illyrians never took their eyes off of them as they marched towards them. Naya tried to find familiarity in their features, searched her mind for who they were and if she'd seen them at any of the camps they had been to.
She found none, did not recognize either of their cold faces, or the siphons that glowed on their chests. If there were more of them, they had chosen ones with power to come here.
"Where is she?" Naya was happy to hear force behind her question, grateful that the fear she felt inside did not bleed out and paint her a coward.
As if on cue, a third Illyrian winnowed into the clearing, a blindfolded and gagged Elain in his too-tight grip, a dagger held to her throat. She struggled against him, thrashed to be freed, but mercifully did not appear to have been harmed.
Azriel stepped towards her, a hand resting threatening on the hilt of one of his blades.
The leader of the group clicked his tongue in warning and he halted. "Not until you give us her."
His long finger stretched out to point at Naya, and Elain's muffled screamed cried out around her gag even though she could not see. Naya wondered if she knew who she was screaming for, if they had told her who would take her place.
If anything was true of her, Naya had never been the one to face down life without fighting. She had done so against an abusive father, against males who wanted her to conform to a life she would never accept, had fought, perhaps the hardest, against her own mind that told her she would be better off dead.
So, when she took that step towards the leader, she knew she could fight this too, would until the very end.
Azriel stilled her retreat, clung to her arm with a griping hand. His eyes were pleading, begging her where his words never would. She looked into those eyes, memorized the shades of gold and brown and green, answered how sorry she was with her own.
"You have to let me go now." The words cracked and splintered, stabbed out at both of them.
She pried at his solid hand, let it drop out of sight, and took a step backwards, away from him, away from home.
The leader encircled her with a crushing grip around her chest, pinned her forcefully against his own. The heat that emanated from him was unwanted even in the cold.
His voice hissed out as he spit out in a maniacal laugh towards Azriel. "Thanks for returning her to us. It's a testament to her skill that you never discovered where her loyalties had truly lain."
NO! This was it! This was what they'd wanted her for, to strike doubt and uncertainty into the hearts of those she loved for whatever cruel reason they had.
Azriel's expression twisted first into one of denial and then into betrayal, a thousand thoughts flickering behind his eyes, a hundred memories of her now tainted and questioned. The pain he had held for her quickly turned to blistering anger, and his outcry roared across the field.
He lunged for them just as Elain was shoved to her knees. Everything happened at once.
The first Illyrian winnowed away, taken on the wind as the second plunged the sharpened blade of his dagger into the soft of Elain's back. Thick, red blood splattered across the snow when he ripped it back out, and it gleamed to its hilt with it.
Naya's cry was heard by none as the leader winnowed them away. The last thing she saw through the fog and closing darkness was Elain's body crumbling forward to fall towards the earth.