CHAPTER V
"He did what to you?" Mor shrieked as she turned an incredulous look at Zivia.
The Seraphim recoiled a bit at her sudden outburst, Azriel snapping his head up from a document he's reading to look at them from across where he's seated. The three of them were gathered around an oak table in one of the studies at the House of Wind. After breakfast, Rhysand told them that he'd be taking care of some issues with Feyre regarding the still ongoing constructions at the city leaving them to talk about the negotiations on the continent.
After much pestering from Mor, Zivia recounted her sparring with Cassian yesterday, telling her about every single detail as she requested, when she got to the part involving her unceremoniously falling to the ground.
"That bastard better be glad that I wasn't there." Mor continued. "I would've beaten his ass myself for kicking a helpless lady in a battle."
"She wasn't exactly helpless, you know," chided Azriel who had gone back to his papers.
A sheepish blush crept up Zivia's neck.
"Right" Mor said returning her attention back on the table. "I wish I was there to witness it though."
"Where have you been yesterday?"
Mor tensed at Azriel's sudden question. She tried to meet his gaze. "Oh." A muscle twitched in her jaw. "I was . . .busy." She threw a nonchalant smile before occupying herself again with the papers.
Azriel's stare didn't stray from her face. It clearly wasn't the answer he wanted to hear and it's obvious that there's something that she's purposely not telling. He noticed Zivia watching them and went back to his own documents.
An awkward silence followed. They were supposed to be talking about things but they didn't. Save for occasional whispers of "look at this" or "this might be helpful", they just passed around papers to the other whenever someone found an information worth noting. It was a good few minutes of nothing but sounds of rustling papers.
"The shadows," Zivia said, breaking the silence that cocooned them. "They talk to you."
Mor and Azriel lifted their gazes from the files they're holding and turned to the Seraphim. Her attention was focused on the spymaster and the shadows that lurked around him.
"You can hear them?" asked Mor
"The wind; I hear their whispers through the wind."
The confusion must have shown in Mor's face that Zivia went on to explain.
"Seraphims are gifted with the magic of wind and air. We command and use them like it's an extension of our own body. I have long learned to understand how it feels and hear the voices it carries around."
She turned toward the Azriel and found him looking back with an unsure expression, tendrils of shadows sliding over his neck and down his arms.
"Az is a shadowsinger." Mor told her.
"Ah. Of course." She replied nodding her head at him. His wings shifted slightly before reaching for another one of the documents sprawled on the table.
After the meeting with the townspeople at the city, Rhysand dropped off Feyre at the studio where Ressina and a group of children were already waiting, before flying to the House of Wind alone. Finding the three still deep in discussion, he took the seat at the head of the table and loosed a sigh as he took a paper from Azriel.
"Well, it seems that I was right to appoint you as our ambassador to the continent." He gave Mor a narrowed look. "You didn't scare them out of their wits to even actually consider opposing you, did you?"
"Of course not!" Mor replied sarcastically.
Rhysand huffed a laugh and turned back to the papers. "There are still kingdoms that are refusing to yield but at least most of them agreed not to push far into the southern lands – for now." He settled the documents back on the table and crossed his arms. "That leaves the human territories."
"What about them?" asked Zivia.
"It isn't just the faeries we needed to persuade. Ever since the collapse of the wall, relationship on either side has become much more unstable. We don't want them marching into each other's territories and wage another war. We needed them to be able to trust us our kind if we're to achieve peace."
"I could make some side trips if it's what's needed," chirped Mor.
"No" Rhysand quickly said as Azriel opened his mouth to say something.
Mor looked at Rhysand then to Azriel, stiff-backed in his chair avoiding her gaze, then turned back to Rhys.
"You will continue your job at the continent. You're doing great in your visits. We wouldn't compromise that."
"So who's going?"
The High Lord blinked at her and slowly turned his head towards Zivia. "You've been living along humans for a very long time." The Seraphim sat straighter. "If there's someone who knows how to deal with mortals and get them to believe that we're not a threat to their kind, it would be you."
"I don't think that's a good idea." Mor interrupted. "The humans she's been living with are a far cry from the ones on the continent. It's not going to be safe for her."
"I'm sure you're very aware of how well she can actually handle herself, cousin."
"I'll do it." Zivia declared with smug casualness.
"That settles it." Rhys said before Mor could offer any more of her qualms.
"Fine." Conceded Mor as she lay back in her chair and stretched her legs. "Why not let Azriel go too?"
They all turned to look at her. Even the shadowsinger seemed surprised and confused at her sudden proposal. She shrugged and started picking at her nails.
"We don't have enough information about the human territories in the continent anyway and we can't count on Lucien to go ambassador-ing into those territories anytime soon. He's been quite busy with his little 'Band of Exiles'."
Mor shifted on her seat and looked at Rhysand. "What I'm saying is that this is a good opportunity for Az to gather more intel in those lands. He can accompany Ziv here and get a much closer look at it."
Rhysand considered her suggestion for a moment. They indeed needed that information if they were to proceed with the treaty and Mor was right, Lucien has been visiting less since after the winter solstice. He looked at Zivia and Azriel.
"As much as I like that idea, I don't think the humans would take it well if two unusually attractive winged faeries just suddenly appeared in front of them proclaiming safety and peace. I'm not familiar with mortal religions but – "
"I get what you mean" said Mor smothering a laugh.
"I can cast an illusion on both of us." Zivia chided.
"You mean a glamour? That doesn't do much – "
"No. It's different."
Zivia cut off Rhys as she stood from her chair and stepped away from the table. She waved a hand and sparks danced in the air around her. Her image started to ripple like waves in the water. One second she was a Seraphim, the next she's something else entirely. Where white feathered wings once jutted from her back are now black membranous ones, with gleaming talons at the apex of each. Illyrian.
"How did you do that?" breathed Mor as she rose and approached Zivia. The two actual Illyrians remained seated, wide-eyed at the Seraphim's display.
"I manipulated the light around me. It's a more powerful magic than a glamour. I can trick your eyes to see whatever it is I want you to see and you won't be able to resist it."
Another wave of her hand and the wings vanished. She now stood before them as a mortal version of herself. Gone were the pointed ears and the unusual glow of her skin.
"Interesting," murmured Rhys as he surveyed her.
"Are all Seraphims capable of this magic?" asked Azriel. His surprise is now replaced by a curious look.
"No." Zivia replied. Her image rippled again and she's back to normal. "It's just . . . me."
They stared at each other for a moment before Rhysand cleared his throat and addressed his spymaster.
"Well?"
Azriel gave a quick glance towards Mor before facing his High Lord.
"Give me the order and I'll go."
