Azriel

The shadows welcomed me as I slid through the decorative oak door mere inches behind the human girl. It was the same every night in this Cauldron-forsaken manor: She slept until midday, rose only for the last meal of the evening with her sisters, and then went back to bed only to be encompassed by her night fits. I hoped hers were a far cry from my own.

Her room was large with a massive four poster bed at its focus, surrounded by an armoire stained golden-brown like the girl's hair. Velvet curtains of a deep blue hung from the windows covering the south facing wall. I'd slipped in and out through there a time or two, but she didn't know that. She didn't know I was here now as she fell into her unmade bed, covered with quilts of every size and color, still in her lavender tunic and dark pants from this evening's dinner. I slithered across the quiet space, finding some extra shadows behind her armoire. I hid there wedged between it and the entryway to her wash room.

Her sobs had stopped coming days ago, but still she dropped into bed the same way every night. Her eyes were always empty. I never heard her speak.

Her sisters - Nesta, the grouchy one, and Elain, the perky one - noticed too. Elain had tried to entice the girl to join her on a walk through the gardens or to find a paint set in town. Both times she had come back to her room and vomited.

I wondered who this girl was every day I spent here hiding in the darkness, waiting for new orders or an unforeseen threat to appear so I could finally have something interesting to do.

Feyre.

The note from Rhysand came as a wild shock. It had appeared to Amren in her kitchen in the middle of her morning… meal, you could call it. She'd spat the thick animal blood all over her counters and called us together - Rhysand's court - where I volunteered to answer Rhysand's call.

The note described a place over the wall, into the mortal lands and then merely said, Protect her. This ends soon.

We'd all felt the gravity of it - Rhysand sending a letter into Velaris, our home. If he was willing to communicate with us then either this was really coming to an end or this girl was more important to Rhys than he was to himself. We'd tried to chase him Under the Mountain, to save him or even just communicate with him, but every time his magic stood in our way. Mor had cursed her cousin's name in the wind so many times I'd lost count over the years.

Years. It had been years since we'd heard from him. Nearly fifty years without our High Lord and when he finally contacts us, it's to babysit this girl.

I had my suspicions, as I'm sure the others did too, but none of us mentioned anything. Cassian was unusually silent when I knew there was so much he would normally have blurted out with a wry smile, but even he must have felt the weight of this command from our lord, our leader, our king.

So here I was, and had been for the last two weeks.

I heard the steps down the hall - one pair marching, the other trailing behind - before the door flew open, light pouring in from the hall.

"Feyre!" the oldest girl shouted, Elain peering over her shoulder. "I am sick of this!"

Feyre didn't bother moving anything but her eyes which dragged over to her sister. The three of them were strikingly similar - all with the same golden brown hair and sharp features. Nesta and Feyre were nearly mirror images, but Elain had a softness to her that flowed through her brown eyes that was unlike her sisters' blue ones.

I was ready to kick back and possibly even let my thoughts wander to the Night Court - to Amren and Cassian, to Mor… when Nesta said, "I know you weren't off with some aunt of ours, tending to her sickbed. That beast fed us lies and I wouldn't swallow a second of it. That faerie took you Feyre," the girl bit out, "and I want to know what happened to you on the other side of that damn wall."

Elain's eyes grew wide. She hadn't known what Nesta had. Though I didn't know it either, it made sense. Where else would Rhysand have met her? Though if this girl had made it out from Under the Mountain Amarantha would be searching for her everywhere… Surely that wasn't the case. Rhysand wouldn't have sent one of us after her if he thought Amarantha knew who she was. Rhysand wouldn't have sent one of the four of us after her unless she was…

I wouldn't let myself assume. If Rhysand didn't explain it was because he didn't want to and as far as I was concerned, he had my loyalty - no explanation necessary.

"He…" the youngest sister, my charge, choked on the words. The first words I'd ever heard come out of her mouth. I stood my ground, refusing to look away when tears fell from her eyes. But if this girl was who I thought she was… I braced myself, as if her cry would bring on a sudden attack in her weakness. "He wouldn't stop," she shuddered out, and the sobs began again.

Elain lept into the bed and curled herself around her little sister, pulling the girl to her chest and wrapping thin arms around her. Nesta settled on the edge of the bed.

"Shhh," Elain whispered.

I stood frozen just feet away from them. I couldn't let myself judge her words. I wasn't sure if I knew who the he was that she spoke of. I held a breath.

"Who is he?" Nesta asked for me.

Feyre clenched. I watched her tighten every muscle in her body before sitting up, away from Elain, willing herself to normalcy. "Tamlin," she said. "He's the High Fae that took me - Lord of the Spring Court. He took me and he courted me for his own purposes and then he…" she trailed off.

I hoped she wouldn't finish her sentence. Males with no self control made me sick and if this girl was indeed whom I guessed her to be… there would be blood. But that would be Rhysand's call.

"Well, now you never have to see him again," Nesta said, stating a fact.

And then Feyre surprised me, pulling a loose hair behind her ear before she said, "But that's just it. I have to see him again. I have to go back."

"Ah!" Elain barked.

"Like hell you are," Nesta said. "I don't know what that creep did to you but there is no way you are going back to him-"

"I'm not going back to him," Feyre interrupted. "I have to go back to save my mate."

The weight of Rhysand's letter fell onto my shoulders. I felt as if the air in the room thickened at her words. Still, I refused to assume, but she was dangerously close to connecting the theory in my head.

"Your mate?" the sisters exclaimed. Nesta's face wrinkled and Elain's shined with excitement.

"Oh, Feyre, you have a mate?" Elain said, a wistful look filling her eyes as she reached for Feyre's hair gathering it all in her hands. She began to weave it idly. "Tell me all about him," she chirped.

"He's being kept Under the Mountain by a faerie commander from overseas. He'll be captive to her forever if I don't go back for him."

"And what makes you think you'll be of any help against a warrior who conquered faeries, hmm?" Nesta argued, carefully observing her nails.

"It's rather complicated," Feyre said as Elain finished her sophisticated braid. "There's a spell that needs to be broken and I'm the only one who can break it."

The eldest sister huffed and stood from the bed, making for the door.

"Nesta, wait," Elain said. "If this is Feyre's mate, she has to go. She has to save him or she will live her entire life without him." Nesta ignored her. "You know the stories too. If he dies, a part of her will die with him."

Nesta's hand stopped shy of the doorknob. She let out an exasperated breath. "Fine, how do you plan on getting Under the Mountain?"

Then something happened that I'd never seen coming, that none of my centuries of training had prepared me for.

Feyre turned straight toward me, her eyes a cold gray in this light. "He's going to take me."

It had been over one hundred years since I'd been captured while spying. Though I knew the consequences of this discovery would be much less gory, it would be potentially be just as torturous.

"Who?" Elain asked as Nesta stepped away from the door into my line of sight.

"Azriel," Feyre said. I wanted to lunge at her for knowing who I was. I wanted to draw my claws at the invasion, but I knew it was only pride nudging at my fingers. If she knew who I was it was because of Rhysand.

I stepped out of the shadows and let my glamours fall. Darkness lingered in tendrils swirling through my vision, but that was unavoidable - like asking my hair to stop growing.

"Who is he?" Nesta growled, stepping toward me - leveraging herself between me and her sisters. I didn't doubt she would attack if provoked.

"My mate sent him," Feyre said. "He is of the Night Court. Rhysand sent him to make sure Tamlin didn't come after me - and to watch out for Amarantha."

"Okay, what is going on, Feyre?" Nesta snapped, her restless eyes scanning the room for weapons and exits. What a woman.

"Amarantha has Rhysand - my mate," she said, rising from the bed to approach me. "Rhysand saved me from Tamlin after… after what he did to me. Rhysand is the one who sent me home, but I have to go back to save him."

I pondered if Rhysand would really have set me up as a guide to his mate to lead her straight into Amarantha's clutches. I doubted it. The girl was staring at me, making her way past Nesta to stand face to face with me. My shadows whipped at her skin as she came near, but she did not flinch. Her eyes were still swollen from her weeping.

"Rhysand told me you would not want to lead me to her," she whispered to me. My eyes narrowed. "He's not the biggest fan of my plan either, but he knows I am the only one who can save him - who can save them all from Amarantha's curse."

I raised my chin in response.

"He said you would know I was his mate and that you'd want to protect me - keep me far away from Amarantha. But he also said that he trusted me the same way you trust Mor - the same way you trust her strength and cunning," she said.

I kept my twitch at her mention of Mor at bay. This girl, this mortal girl was to be an equal to Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, the largest court in Prythian. He was the most powerful High Lord of them all - the most powerful living being I'd ever known of and this mortal girl was his mate.

I noted the way her lip trembled before I finally said, "Well, let's go then."

I expected Elain and Nesta to resist or at least prolong their goodbye, but Feyre and I were off in a carriage within in hour. I noted the lack of a reaction from Feyre at the lack of sentimentality from her sisters. I couldn't help but think of my own family, but I stifled that train of thought immediately. The restless wings settled inside me ached for us to fly straight to the mountain but I knew that would be too dangerous. Amarantha had creatures of all kinds swarming southern Prythian. She'd always stayed away from the Night Court because she already had Rhysand.

I let a breath go. There would never be a day I didn't wish Rhysand had let us fight her, though I knew he'd sold himself for us - for our safety. I squashed the thought before it built into rage.

My siphons glowed, the magic within me pooling through me into whips of energy to lead the horse of our wagon. Feyre had told me where to go with directions from Rhysand. I wasn't sure how she'd communicated so closely with my High Lord and I wasn't sure whether that built my trust or delayed it.

"You're one of his friends," she said softly. My eyes yanked to her starry stare. She'd been watching me the entire ride. I assumed it was to distract her from her mission ahead. She didn't wait for me to respond. "He sent me through his memories once," she said, finally looking away - out the carriage window. "She uses him - Amarantha. She lets anyone grab him and curse at him…" her voice trailed off.

My muscles shook beneath my skin.

"He told me he did things he wasn't proud of, but it was all for those he loved." She looked at me again, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "For you," she whispered.

We didn't speak again until we arrived to the cave in the Spring Court lands that led Under the Mountain. She crawled from her seat, her matching black tunic and pants gleaming in the sunlight of the open door, and let herself out. When I started to move to follow her, I hit a wall. My lip curled at the invisible barrier that separated myself from Rhys' mate. She couldn't possibly have magic - in all my years I'd never heard of a mortal possessing magic.

Feyre's eyes pressed together, wrinkles pooling on her forehead. "I'm sorry, Azriel," she said, exhaling with a look off into the cave. I felt venom rise in my gut. "We can't let you endanger yourself any further. Please," she said. I cursed under my breath. "Please, go back to the others. Tell them of Rhysand's love - that he has not forgotten them."

Rhysand, dammit. With all the magic he was constantly spreading over the continent you'd think he could have just pooled it together to overthrow Amarantha. But, of course, Rhys wouldn't leave Velaris unguarded, nor would he leave his friends - or his mate - stranded without aid.

I growled as I watched her turn and walk into the darkness.