Chapter 5: The Promise


AZRIEL

The alien world of green had a sleepiness to it.

A kind Azriel had not experienced with in the glitter of Velaris or the cut-throat expectations of the Illyrian camps of his childhood. Those caves had been coated in cold mist, cave-mouths opening into breathless mountaintops of pure starlight, and a sleepy mind was a weak one in this war-torn Prythian.

Nevertheless, it had taken him four hours to winnow halfway to the sweltering heat of the Summer Court, and then another two hours to fly over the bright orange and red lush Lands of Autumn to find the curve in the land that led to a monstrous expanse of the emerald forest before him. His shadows tucked close to him, reminding him of the darkness in each of the leaves and a below it laid a hidden world of beasts and fairies just as dangerous as the monsters the other Courts had to offer.

"Don't Az."

"It will only be a moment," Azriel tried to smile at her, but it came out as a snarl. "Let me."

"They didn't know any better." Mor's heartfelt whisper tore at his conscious and her soft hand on his arm tempted him not to act against two of the soldiers that had abducted and handed her over to the Autumn Court. "They were following orders."

"I know." Azriel said, shaking her off, and following the prey down a corridor. They were monsters. That is all he thought when he tore their necks with his bare hands, imagining it was Lord Keir and Beron's bastard son Eris from the Autumn Court. One day he would get them too.

"Az no." Mor's horrified face was enough to wake him from the blind rage, but not enough to stop the blood pumping in his ears.

"They can't hurt you anymore."

She slapped him and wouldn't speak for a month with him.

Azriel would take it.

The message he had made was clear. Even when Cassian whistled that he needed to control himself, and Rhysand had a long conversation of not killing the henchman, and not even thinking of killing Keir or Eris, Azriel would take whatever repercussions if it meant for others to know the consequences of hurting good-hearted people like Mor. That even overlords of this world would suffer for abusing the lesser, no matter their station.

Azriel stayed close to the cover of the trees, hoping that his troubled dark presence went undetected from the enemy, and not ruin whatever plans Rhysand and his High Lord had already set into place.

His belly and tips of his wings skimmed along the forest's canopy, tempting him to explore below, but he could feel a greater pull to Rhysand, to his High Lord, and he held onto that tighter as it led him to an opening to a vast untouched field of rows of grape and other produce, and beyond was erected a stark alabaster Manor, glowing windows in the dark night, refusing to succumb to the drowsy air that on any other night would seem a drunkard's paradise. The Spring Court.

Azriel landed on the meatier branch of a great oak tree. At this vantage point, he got a good look below him where Rhysand and his father had landed, waiting.

It was Rhysand that noticed him first, his wings tucked in and irritable as the energy coming off him. "What are you doing here Azriel?"

Azriel looked back at Rhys and the High Lord, keeping his iron-clad grip on the branch beneath him, and the balance of his heels as it creaked at his weight of a fool-blooded Illyrian male. "The same reason you both are here."

The High Lord regarded his shadowsinger, before leaning over to slap his shoulder in greeting, "it's good thing you came."

Azriel took a deep breath, as his High Lord continued in a drawl that seemed far too calm for the topic, "Rhysand was just trying to talk me into just killing Tagnar and the two older sons… leaving the traitor to draw breath, and leave the mother and sister be. What do you think of that shadowsinger? What would they do in the war-camps?"

In the war camps they would have butchered the entire family. Leaving the murderers for last, tear off their wings, pouring oil on their bodies, and lighting the flame. As they neared death, they would be thrown off the face of the mountain to their sure death below. But this was not the war-camps, not the Night Court either.

The air was tense in the Spring Court, a butchering or swift justice would come tonight, and Azriel thought it wise not to add to it. He only let the slight twitch of his wings be the only reaction they could take.

"Azriel would never speak against you Father." That was all Rhys needed to turn the conversation away from him. "But Mor was right, enough is enough, we will punish Tagnar and his sons. Blood will have blood," his Father nodded assent at that at least, "but we will spill none that are innocent of their crime," Rhysand shook his head as if he could shake the memories of his mother and sister away, and as if it would clear his mind of his father's overwhelming fury at his son's unwillingness to kill the females. "We didn't come here to kill innocents Father."

"I bet they didn't come to kill your mother and sister feeling the same way," Rhysand's father cut back, "these beasts would break your soft heart," and even Azriel closed his eyes at the growl that rumbled from Rhysand.

"That will haunt me till the end of my days Father, I told Tamlin, trusted him, and I regret ever daring to care for that traitor."

"Regret will get you nowhere Rhysand. Only action will."

"There is nothing I would want more than to tear off Tamlin's head and send it in a box to his mother and sister. Make them feel this pain, maybe I would sleep better," Rhysand revealed anxiously for the first time, that he could be as bloodthirsty as them all, and perhaps moreso. For some reason, Rhysand's anger faded in an instant. "But that means I would have to send mine as well."

"What are you talking about? Your mother had Illyrian blood, she would have demanded justice. Why would you compare yourself with them?"

"Because I betrayed them!" Rhysand declared a bit too loudly. Azriel's ears pricking up for any sign of the Spring Court and sentinels coming this way, and it would appear they were in the clear.

Rhysand continued more mindful, "I betrayed mother and Nyx to the enemy. Nothing I do now could ever redeem me. Nothing you say can wipe the blood off my own hands. So why don't you treat me the same as the traitor, I had a part in this too!" The wind swept his words through the trees, right through his father's grim face, and Azriel kept a heavy look on the High Lord that became quiet and pensive at his son's words, a bit too quiet, and that meant something.

In the caves of his childhood there was an ancient Beast that could tear you to pieces without making a sound, only blood and bone would be left after it finished with you… the High Lord was worse. Azriel had seen him do worse, leaving no bone or blood in his wake, only the impression of the person that had been. Leaving nothing for the family to mourn seemed a crueler fate than the worst the beasts of Prythian could do to you.

"I hear you." The High Lord's anger seemed a terrible thing with Rhys so close. "You seek my forgiveness Rhysand?"

Rhysand's body stiffened, so did Az, when his brother bowed at his father's words. "I don't deserve it."

"I will be the judge of that," the High Lord's eyes narrowed. "Did you mean for the death of your sister and mother? Did you plan in the shadows and celebrate their deaths?"

"Of course not! How could you- we both were there. You felt it"- Rhysand declared with so much honestly Truth-teller was humming against the strap of Azriel's hip.

"Did you plot behind my back to have me killed here, is the King of Hybern waiting for us here"-

"I do not speak with Hybern." Rhys growled.

"Then that's all I need to know. Let me give you this." Azriel had the first-hand seat to see the devastation that rolled through the High Lord as he jumped on his son' branch, reaching out to him, and swallowing him in an embrace that rocked the shadowsinger's instincts of protecting Rhys.

His shadows screamed at him to separate them both, too much emotion, too much power for them to leave one another unscathed, because his High Lord was vicious and cunning manipulator with little heart left to be called Fae, and that he couldn't love Rhys like that, was not capable of doing it, and yet… father and son remained embracing one another.

The High Lord whispered in his ear, "I didn't mean it like that. I don't blame you my son."

"You don't?"

"How could I blame you without blaming myself too?" Rhysand nodded into his father's shoulder. "We must remain strong my son, this is what they want."

"Yes, you're right." Rhysand drew a steady breath, leaning back, and for a second Azriel felt like he was looking at twins, he had so much of his father in him and he had not saw it till now.

Azriel released the part of the tree that was imprinted with his anxious hands.

Despite the embrace, the High Lord had not changed, if not, he was more assured now. "We need to get justice for what happened my son, this is the only way to set things right."

"I'm sorry Father," Rhysand leaned back from his father, "but your wrong."

Any lesser man would have had that arm torn from the socket, and the High Lord merely turned away with an exasperated sigh. "When will you understand who we are dealing with? Tagnar's spawn are Hybern's pets if we don't send a message here, their friends will have the ammunition to come and destroy everything your mother and I hoped to give you. Is that what you want? You want Velaris to fall to the hands of the enemy, your Illyrian brothers their slaves," he dropped his voice even lower, "Mor to be taken and once again defiled by the"-

"No. Don't say that." Rhysand said, and Azriel knew the command had been for him too, the shadowsinger let go of Truth-teller, returning it back to its proper place. Would he have attacked his High Lord? Would he have landed a blow before he finished that sentence? Azriel drew his hand farther away from the blade just in case.

The reason soon became clear with every word his High Lord dared to say. "We can stop that War here Rhysand. This is your moment to choose if you can be the High Lord that is willing to sacrifice for Velaris, and for your friends…"

"I would sacrifice everything I have." Rhysand said through gritted teeth.

"Then prove it. Prove it here." Their High Lord jumped from his perch and to the forest floor below. Like a serpent in the grass he went forward, staking the land, and whatever souls dare get in his way tonight.

"We need to protect Tamlin's mother and sister," Rhysand had winnowed next to Azriel, quieter and far deadlier now that the hunt had begun, "promise me, leave the killing to us, but you must protect them while I keep him busy"-

For a moment, Azriel thought of denying him this. That he too deserved to take his own blood price for Selene and Nyx that had treated him as their own, had fed, clothed, and loved him to the point that he felt like Rhysand's brother.

"Promise me Az"-

"I promise." The words slipped out before he could stop them, echoing the ones he had said in front of a Mor and Cassian. "I will do what you ask of me. I am here for you Rhys."

"I know you are. Thank you, brother." Rhysand's violet eyes were alert and kind. "The war-bands and Cassian will be here soon, and my father doesn't want to waste much time. When they do come I am sure we will be already done here," Rhysand slapped his back, as if he wasn't going to attack the Spring Court, "are you fine Azriel?" He noticed something was off, of course he would.

"I'm fine. Just ready." Azriel brushed off the soft touch of Rhysand's mind.

Such soft talk had no place here, and it made Azriel uncomfortable for him to be so physically close to Rhys' Daemati powers. Rhys said he had never used them on them, but the shadows whirled with the betrayals Rhysand could uncover in the depths of his less than moral mind.

"Follow me brother."

Azriel nodded as Rhys jumped down from the great oak, leaving Azriel to watch the path he chose through the stalks of tall grass and trees filled with fruit.

Despite his role in the Night Court, Azriel was loyal to Rhysand first and foremost. It was he that had accepted him into his family, shared his mother and sister with him and Cassian. Had entertained the notion that they were brothers. Not only that, Rhysand had allowed Mor to stay safe in Velaris, and that was not something Azriel could easily forget or repay in this lifetime.

"I will do what is necessary." Azriel mumbled under his breath when his High Lord winnowed into the Manor, screaming, glass breaking, and fire growing in his wake.

Azriel flew into the heat of the action, and shadowed Rhysand as they neared the Manor, knowing that when the time came to choose his High Lord or Rhysand, only one decision would protect the ones he loved.