CHAPTER 10

Feyre, Cassian and Rhysand were having a conversation in one of the estate's study when a loud crash followed by Elain's high-pitched scream sent them running to the garden. They stopped short at the sight that greeted them.

"What the - ?"

Azriel and Zivia were sprawled among the shrubs lining the fountain, both grunting in pain.

"What happened?" gasped Feyre as she rushed beside Zivia to help her up.

Azriel was quick in getting back on his feet but the shock from their fall made him lose his balance and slip right into the fountain basin, sending splashes of water into Cassian's face, who was extending a hand to him.

"Woah, easy brother," teased Cassian as he wiped his face with his other arm. "Are you drunk?"

The shadowsinger levelled him a look. "We winnowed straight from the Continent!"

Winnowing at great distances messes your orientation and muddles up one's senses especially if done in rapid successions and given the state of the two of them arrived, they were definitely in a rush.

"Let's get you inside," Feyre said, bracing a hand around the Seraphim's shoulder.

They settled in the parlour and she ordered Nuala and Cerridwen to get some towels.

"I'll get some tea," volunteered Elain.

"Okay, so what happened?" asked Rhysand as her sister disappeared into the hallway.

"Our cover was blown," muttered Zivia while she plucked leaves that were stuck in between the feathers of her wings.

"We were found out sneaking to be exact," amended Azriel.

Elain came back with a steaming pot of tea and set it down on the table at the center of the room. She went to Zivia and helped her in cleaning the dirt stuck on her face and wings.

"I'm not entirely to be blamed," Zivia grumbled. "How could I possibly concentrate with you squirming between my legs?"

Rhysand spewed out his drink across the room, Feyre almost dropping the pot and Cassian tried to cough up the liquid that went the other way down his throat as he threw an incredulous look at a wide-eyed Azriel.

"It's not – " He snapped his head to the Seraphim, who was now starting to look as though she would rather be somewhere else.

Cassian barked a laugh, tapping the shadowsinger on his shoulders. "I've never seen you so flustered Az, it's actually refreshing!"

Feyre had never seen the Illyrian look that uncomfortable before and it was something of Zivia to elicit such emotion from him. She suppressed a smile at whatever thought that came into her head at that.

The High Lord cleared his throat. "Uh, any reports then?"

Zivia launched into the story of how they utterly failed in the very simple task of spying without being seen, a portion of which involves having both of them sneakily peek through the mansion's window in hopes of catching whatever they could as the meeting progresses. They were not allowed inside even in the guise of two guards nor two servants nor any other particular individuals for that matter, the meeting was strictly for the lords only – no other else. It ended with Zivia recalling how they made for a quick escape after unceremoniously falling from Azriel's shoulders while trying to reach a better view but instead knocking her head in the glass window hard enough to alert everyone inside of their presence.

"The mortal queens are finally making their move huh," said Rhys after a while, casting a meaningful glance at Feyre.

"But we don't know what they're planning yet," added Cassian.

A pause.

Rhysand thoughtfully tapped his fingers on his cup before downing its contents and said, "We ought to at least be prepared." He put the cup on the table and stood. "For the meantime, we hold back on our negotiations on the Continent." Both Zivia and Azriel gave a subtle gesture of agreement. "I'll send word to Mor." He then proceeded towards the door.

"You can take a rest here if you want," offered Feyre as she too headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Zivia, already finished with removing all the debris from her wings.

"We're having a meeting with the … uh … night court citizens"

The High Lord nodded at her before disappearing out the door followed by Cassian and the High Lady. Azriel lingered for a second, debating whether to stay or join them. He gave a quick glance at Zivia then to Elain, who was standing awkwardly in the corner holding the teapot in her hands. He decided to go with the latter.


"Was this a bad idea?"

Zivia have asked herself that question for the fifth time since deciding to follow Azriel and the others. There was something amiss in her gut feeling but she couldn't quite place what it was, not that going after them would surely answer that question. A pulsing wave of the High Lord's power brought her back to reality. It was coming from deep within the mountains. Veering sharply downwards, she made a quick work of concealing her presence lest the spymaster discovers her sticking her nose somewhere she clearly shouldn't be. As she neared towards the base, she noticed huge stone gates carved into the mountain itself guarded by two impassive looking guards.

So this is it, she thought.

Her parents have told her all about the Night Court as stories ever since she was a child and she could still clearly remember mentions of the City under the mountain. It was her first time seeing it but she knows what to expect.

The two sentinels know better than to think that what they felt was way more than just still silence and a gust of wind. Air drafts rarely reach this part of the mountain, but another surge of power from the inside made their suspicions inconsequential. Zivia carefully made her way past them and deeper into where the origin of the power felt.

The place was so silent she could hear her own breaths within her shield. A little further into the mountain, sounds became much more audible and distinguishable. She could hear unfamiliar voices arguing as if in protest, some kind of music playing somewhere overlapping with their shouts.

"….it's possible….another war…..lost many lives too…"

The High Lord's voice boomed shook the ground. "SILENCE!"

The others were keeping their silence but anyone could point out their extreme presence even from a distance. This wasn't the same people she talked to a few hours ago. Their powers were fully unhampered as if they were gauging for a war.

She was inching closer to have a look of what was happening when a movement in the corner of her eyes caught her attention. Something just walked past the avenue opposite where she was standing. Her curiosity told her to follow it, so against her better judgment, she did.

The pathway was void of anyone else but her and that someone, leading her away from the others and deeper into the heart of the mountain. There was such stillness in the air the she could tell she's following a child by the sound of its footsteps. They were walking around a bend when the child abruptly stopped and turned on his heels. Zivia barely knocked into him and had just enough time to back away but not before tripping on her own feet and landing flat on her behind.

"Ow"

A sharp gasp as her concealment vanished and the child can finally see her. Barely three feet tall, he was staring at her with too-round eyes that were of bottomless black, two hairy antennae on his forehead stood in shock. The mothy wings on his back tucked in tight and trembled in time with his jaw.

"Hello. I uhm, I – please don't scream!"

The child has his mouth open in an unfinished cry for help. Though he appears to be visibly scared, he remained rooted on his spot possibly due to shock. Tears were already pooling on his eyes and his pale gray skin turned more ashen. Zivia pulled herself up, careful not to make any movements that could further scare the little fae.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." She reached out for him slowly but he flinched away and she had to withdraw her hand. "It's okay, don't be scared."

The child has found his voice and was able to string out words in between his silent sobs.

"Wh – h – huwaryu?"

It took her a few seconds to figure out what he said.

She crouched down so that she is in level with him. "I'm Zivia, and I'm not here to hurt you. We can be friends." She tried her best to show her good intentions with a smile. "What's your name?"

"R-Rem"

Thankfully, he was no longer trembling and his wings now droop carelessly behind him. He is studying her with large glassy eyes and pointed to her wings.

"Oh yes. They've become dirty now, haven't they?"

Rem shook his head. She looked at him in question when he opened his own wings and hovered a few inches above the ground then again pointed at her.

"Wings? yes. They're wings, I use them to fly too."

"Bird?"

"No. I mean a little like that but of course different."

The child surely had a point but being compared to a bird doesn't sit so well with her. She gave him a somewhat forced smile nonetheless.

He blinked at her, non-existent brows furrowing in thought. "Chickens?"

"Definitely not! I'm a Seraphim," she snapped. "Very much similar to Peregryns and – wait…"

The boy's face crumpled in much more confusion at the mention of the two words.

"You – you haven't heard of us?"

A slow shake of his head.

"Well," she angled her head in thought. "Has no one ever told you about us?"

Another shake.

"Don't you ever go outside this mountain?"

"Mother told me never to go out."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

He sounded just as confused as she is. Being locked inside this place and not being able to go outside, she felt pity for the little boy especially for someone given with the gift of flight. Their kind was supposed to be free to roam the skies, whenever they want for as long as they want.

"Can't you ask Lord Rhysand for permission?"

Worry flashed across Rem's face at the mention of the High Lord's name. He frantically looked around as if someone might be spying on them.

"It's alright. Nobody's around."

He looked at her, mild fear still visible on his face. There was obviously something that is keeping him from answering or he's too uncomfortable talking about it that she felt the need to change the topic.

"So where are you headed to?"

Rem perked up, suddenly remembering that he was here for a reason and that he actually has some place to go. In response, he scampered off giving Zivia a gesture to follow. He led her into more darkened alleys and past stone archways. She could hear the faint sound of running water coming from where they were apparently headed and it was getting much louder with each passing step. After squeezing through one particularly tight opening, Zivia found herself standing in a cliff within the mountain and sure enough, a waterfall gushes across from them spouting dark blue water that cascades down into the deep chasm below. There was an eerie feel to it but she couldn't deny that this place is quite beautiful.

"It's scary back there," said Rem, voice barely a whisper.

He was sitting on the far edge of the precipice, arms reaching out trying to catch some of the mist from the falls. She remembered the pulsing anger of Rhysand's power.

"Is your mother back there?"

His hands froze mid-air. "No. she is…not there." He pulled his hands back and wrung his fingers together in hesitation. "She went with the others to the war. She didn't come back."

Tears were threatening to gather on his eyes again and she inched closer to touch him. This time, he let her.

Zivia wasn't sure what to say to a young child who just lost his mother so she did what she does best and hoped it will help soothe the pain even just a little. With a flick of her finger, a butterfly the size of her palm appeared fluttering before them. Rem's building sorrow turned into juvenile fascination as he watched it float around him and mischievously landed on his nose.

"Where I'm from, there's a belief that when these creatures appear, it means that a lost loved one is making their presence felt."

He looked at her in surprise and gently scooped the butterfly into his tiny hands and bringing it close to his heart as if to embrace it. It broke her a little to know that even though it may look very real to this child, she couldn't make it any more so to let him feel it.

The butterfly floated above Rem's head, circling him and urging him to play. He was merrily chasing it around when Zivia felt his arrival and his close presence even before he showed himself.

Rem stopped short at the sight of Azriel and it was now true terror showing on his face. He stumbled and fell on his back, rapidly gasping as if completely out of breath. Zivia quickly rushed to his side.

"What are you doing here?" Azriel's voice is sharp and cold.

She turned around and faced him, placing a protective hand over Rem and looked at the spymaster appallingly. He was in his full suit armour, seven gleaming siphons on display and shadows were curling around his feet. Though he appeared slightly surprised at her presence, he was quick to mask it away and instead turned his attention to the young fae.

Rem squeaked and hid behind Zivia, squeezing himself in between her wings. At that, the Illyrian dropped the oozing viciousness around him and opted for a more toned-down ruthless demeanor, but still one that would make anyone take precautions.

Nevertheless, Zivia knew better. "Don't worry, he won't hurt you."

She threw him an accusatory glance before helping Rem onto his feet. The poor child is still shaking and he clutched her arm so hard his nails dug deep in her skin that it would surely leave prominent marks. Despite her reassurance, she could feel his doubt as much as she could feel his grip on her.

Azriel took a deep breath behind them and started walking away. She watched him disappear into the darkness, leaving nothing more than smokes of shadows in his wake.

"Let's go." She took Rem's hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "Don't be scared, I'm with you. Okay?"

He managed to give him a wobbly nod and they followed the shadowsinger towards the others, hand in hand.

They stopped infront of a large carved door which appears to be a side entrance to the throne hall. Azriel had already reverted back to his lethal bearing before walking through. As soon as the door opened, a scream cut through the air that sent chilling echoes bouncing off the cavernous ceiling of the room. The shadowsinger was unbothered and kept walking. When they were close enough, everyone's attention fell to her, watching her every step towards the dais where Cassian stood as well as Feyre and Rhysand, who were sitting on their own thrones in front of the crowd, all looking utterly surprised.

"Father!"

Rem broke free of her, shouting and ran directly towards a man lying down at the High Lady's feet. He was clutching his head and is in visible pain, traces of vomit staining his shirt and the floor around him.

The intent look of every person in the room didn't concern her as much as seeing them did. She did hear the dark stories of the real Night Court but nothing of her expectations come anything close to this.

She leaned closer to Azriel, lowering her voice to a point where only he could hear, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on Rem and his father.

"Care to explain what in the Cauldron's sake is happening in here?"


Back at the House of Wind, Zivia slumped down on a settee situated at the corner of a veranda overlooking the city of Velaris. Rhysand had just left after explaining to her everything about the Hewn City. It answered some of her questions, though it didn't satisfy her curiosity as to a lot of why's about that situation.

"Don't look at me like that," she muttered to Azriel, who was lingering near the rail ready to take flight. "I already apologized and I didn't even mean to interrupt your – well, whatever you guys were doing down there."

He gave her a look as if to say it wasn't what he was referring to. Huffing, she stood and walked towards the railing too, stopping close beside him, the tips of their wings almost touching.

"I won't go back there," she assented. "At least without permission."

The shadowsinger didn't say anything. They both stood there in silence, watching dark clouds bear down all around the city, a shifting sea of rust-colored sand.

"I just couldn't quite understand," Zivia said after some time. "It's just that . . . " She looked sideways at him. "Aren't they a citizen of this court too?"

A bobbing of his throat was the only reply she got. He didn't even look at her and instead continued looking faraway, his face of perfect solemnity.

"The Hewn City is a very brutal place full of wicked people that would give no second thought on doing all the worst things imaginable."

"There are children down there, Azriel."

The anger exuding out of him faltered. He tore his gaze away from the city and looked down at his scarred hands.

"Rhysand has his reasons."

"Don't you think that the High Lord, of all people, should know that goodness can come even in a place as dark as that?"

He finally faced her, eyes gleaming in the setting sun. His thoughts seem to be at war inside his head, skeptical as to what he should feel and he looked away.

"Why do you sympathize with people you barely know?"

Zivia thought for a while, staring at the shadowsinger's profile before looking back at the distant landscape.

"Hmm." She opened her palm and out bloomed a beautiful butterfly atop it. "Maybe because it's what I'm good at."

She extended her hand over the ledge and turned it over and together, they watched the creature fly deep down into the ravines below. As she looked at it disappearing beyond the darkened nooks of stone walls and cliffs, she remembered the words Elain said to her in the garden.

When there is darkness, light will always find its way