"Brother!" Celeste cried out giggling, her large almond eyes crinkling as she held her hands out towards Cenric, holding a small leather-bound book, beckoning him to her, "Will you read me this story?"
"Of course," he replied, his cobalt eyes shining as he plucked the book from his sister's hand replacing her empty palms with one of his own, smiling down at her, "shall we?"
"Hands up pup!" Cassian snarled, slamming his fist none too gently into Cenric's block, snapping him instantly out the memory. Grunting Cenric felt himself skid backwards from the force, his forearms shuddering in pain from the impact. His lips curled back from his teeth in annoyance, "If you rely on that guard too much you're going to be dead, so move!"
He growled in irritation, shaking his head free of the memory, why were they practicing now of all times?
Pivoting on his left foot with fluid grace he carefully avoided the well place strike from Cassian's fist. Twisting, he swung his own fist forward and connected with Cassian's thick forearms, pain shooting down his knuckles, the wrappings doing little to negate the impact of the blow.
"Stop throwing punches like a child," Cassian barked, his black hair swaying as he lunged to the left, his fists swinging, peppering Cenric's defenses, "concentrate or I'll make you."
The general's strength was overwhelming and he furiously landed hit after hit against Cenric, driving the boy backwards across the frozen ground-his leather clad feet digging deep into the mud as he tried to hold his position.
Shit, Cenric thought trying to avoid the full impact of Cassian's blows, focus.
"You know," Celeste drew, her small sweet face pulling into that infamous pucker, the one that usually ended up getting him in trouble because he could never deny what was requested after it, "you could always sneak downstairs and get me cookies before bed." She fluttered those eyelashes, "since you love me?"
"Okay fine," Cenric half-heartedly grumbled, throwing his energy out to see if his parents were still awake, "I'll be back in just a minute, hold tight."
With an unexpected twist Cassian roundhouse kicked Cenric, pulverizing his jaw and snapping his neck to the left, effectively breaking his guard and sending him tumbling backwards.
Cenric hit the ground with a loud thump, his entire form jolting as it collided with the frozen ground. For a moment his eyes only registered the blue above him, the clouds moving lazily across its surface the throb in his jaw the only sensation he felt.
You would have laughed relentlessly at me.
Groaning he rolled over onto his side, chest heaving as he looked up at the looming form of Cassian above him, scowling.
"You're not paying attention," the looming male critiqued, brows rising, "If that had been actual combat you would have been taken down in a matter of a few maneuvers. That's the worst spar we've had in months."
Cassian jerked his chin over his shoulder, indicating the rings behind him, "Get up. If you're going to act like a fledgling then you're going to train with the fledglings."
"I'm not a fledgling," Cenric muttered up at Cassian, cobalt eyes narrowing as he felt the power build beneath his skin, wanting to crack out, to be released, an ominous and unrelenting thrum, why couldn't it have manifested then? "I've earned my spot here so stop threatening to throw me back in with the grunts."
"Then quit acting like the grunts," Cassian replied matter-of-factly, his hazel eyes narrowing in understanding as he offered a hand out to boy, "you're better than that. If you don't get it together you're not going to be ready for the rite."
"You think I'm not aware of that?" Cenric snapped, swatting the hand away, his normal good nature shoved away and a rare streak of grumpiness shining through, couldn't they have done it on any day but this one? "Let's just call it quits, we can pick up where we left off tomorrow."
Cassian released a sign through his nose, running his hands through his sweat soaked locks, "Look I know today's rough on everyone, but you've only got a few weeks to get ready kid—"
It was Starfall.
She would have been 23.
"And?" Cenric shot back, launching to his feet, his body coiling and springing with cat like grace, his limbs lined with a strength few fae possessed, so much like his father in both appearance and power, "you think one day is going to make a difference on that mountain?"
His arms crossed over his chest, his leathers full of sweat, shaggy raven locks falling in his face, "One more day of getting smacked around isn't going to change the fact that they're going to be out for my blood, I can handle it, handle them."
Enough was implied in that phrase. Some of their sons and cousins were still alive, alive when she was not.
She should have been home primping her curls and fretting over dresses.
Teasing him relentlessly about something, anything.
"You're lucky they're even letting you take the rite," Cassian snapped, the snarl tearing from his lips making the birds in the nearby trees flee, "You're not even half Illyrian and Delvon has been protesting from the moment we suggested you joining."
Even after everything, rebellions and all, Devlon had still remained loyal to the Court of Dreams and had even softened in some ways-one of those ways allowing a mixed blood barely Illyrian with no wings to compete in the rite, even if his protest were loud at every turn.
"Don't you think for one second I'm going to let you on Ramiel without the proper training to defend yourself," Cassian straightened his shoulders, tucking his chin as he stared his nephew down, hazel eyes flaming, "you're not ready."
"I am Uncle," Cenric replied, his brows knotted at the center of his forehead, his power dampening, its pull loosening itself. Instead a well of sorrow began opening in his chest, absorbing the anger, chiseling away at the hot red fire that was turning to smoldering ash, "but today, I can't do this today."
"She wouldn't have wanted to watch you die on that mountain," Cassian replied, his hazel eyes softening, fear lingering there as he watched his nephew carefully. The love and will to protect was endless in that gaze, something that had only solidified since the death of the Court of Dreams star, "not to mention your mother will kill me if I let you fail."
"I know," Cenric replied, his breath fogging in front of him, the temperatures still plummeted even in the early throes of springs, the sweat on his brow now starting to become frigid, she must have been so cold when she die-"I just need space."
"Then go," Cassian jerked his chin towards the mountains, unwrapping his hands, "run some laps, clear your head, then meet me back here for one more round then we'll head back to Velaris."
Cenric only nodded in reply, shaking himself before turning on his heal and jogging across the camp, intent on looping around the outskirts of the tents and letting his mind wander.
He knew Cassian meant well, knew that his uncle only wanted to watch his wallop every self-serving lord's son on that mountain and to show them exactly what blood ran through his veins. He wanted to watch him walk off that summit without a mark on him-
The guilt was near suffocating.
It had been thirteen years and still her birthday haunted him.
He picked up steady pace and moved easily around the camp, a few of the younger Illyrian females sending glances his way, their interest not so easily hidden. He scowled and ignored them, their interest and pining the last thing on his mind.
He couldn't forget the fear that had cascaded through him when he'd heard the news that she was missing, gone. Couldn't forget the lump in his throat as he'd watched his family winnow from the old townhouse, panic and horror lining their faces as they scrambled trying to find her, to get her home.
He picked up his pace, his hair bouncing as he glided around the camp outskirts, the tattered remains of former bastard's tents billowing in the cold breeze.
He'd remained with Elaine in the Riverside Estate, her warm arms pulling him close to her, her warm tears soaking his hair as he stood there helpless, useless.
Elaine had known she was gone, Cenric was certain, though she'd never voiced it. had known as she'd held him close and quietly mourned.
He'd never told her goodbye.
Had never been able to protect her.
He picked up his pace, gliding up a steep incline, rocks rolling beneath his boot clad feet.
It was why he'd chosen to fight in the rings only weeks after her death, to be trained with the Illyrians as his father, uncles and aunt all had.
He'd never wanted to be a warrior, that had been her dream, Celeste's dream, but knowing how to defend those he loved, so that that loss never happened again, he was glad to subject himself to whatever it'd take to ensure it.
He'd happily thrown himself in that cold ring, had happily allowed the bigger boys to slam him over and over again into the mud, smashing his shoulder and face, littering his body with bruises. His father had only watched in silence, knowing not to intervene. He had patched Cenric up, along with the smoothing hands of his mother, when he'd stumbled into that small cabin after that first night.
Cenric allowed himself to grow as he had, both physically and magically, so that he could protect that which he loved most, since he couldn't have protected her.
His heart stung in a way he wasn't sure would ever fade.
He was happy for the rite, for the opportunity to slaughter the sons and relatives of the traitors who'd taken his sister from him; and he'd happy slit all of their throats when he set foot on that sacred mountain, come victory or death.
"You're being unusually rough," an icy voice echoed behind Cassian, lithe footfalls falling against the frozen ground, the smell of her engulfing him, unknotting the tightness wound in his shoulders, "what's eating at you?"
Cassian turned his attention to his brassy haired mate, to Nesta, and released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Her beauty still knocked the breath from him, the power and grace that oozed from her, a queen unbendable. Especially with the site of the powerful and nearly unwieldable bow strapped across her back, a weapon she'd master in a fraction of time it should have taken her.
He'd never stood a chance against her.
"He's too distracted," Cassian replied, rubbing at his sore neck, the inkling of guilt beginning to bloom around the edges of his mind for kicking the boy so hard in the face, "He's so focused on killing all of them that he's not taking his own safety into account."
Cassian shook his head, glancing skyward, "he wants so badly to extract some sort of revenge, even if it's against those who had no part in the rebellion."
Nesta's steel eyes were as bright as they'd always been, silver flame unwavering, "Do you blame him?"
Cassian cut her a sidelong glance.
"Never."
The only reason he hadn't done it himself was to prevent another all at rebellion and war in the camps, they'd lost enough as it were.
Nesta stepped up to Cassian, her leather's hugging her lithe figure, and reach out a gloved hand, resting it on Cassian's bicep. Her acceptance and willingness to participate in small public displays of affection growing with each passing year, the connection to her mate smoothing her frayed edges, not that she'd ever admit it.
Nesta had taken to training the woman in the camps, had created her own unit in the aftermath of dealing with the trauma of her father's death and in realizing her soul bonding with Cassian. Over the last century she'd build a remarkable group of incredibly fast and skilled woman who, frankly, put the male warriors to shame.
The true pride of the Illyrian Steppes.
Cassian only wished she'd been able to help train their niece.
Cenric was right to be as upset as he was, she should have been there in the thick of it all.
"Today would have been about her," Nesta replied, her voice unwavering, though Cassian saw the fury ripple beneath the surface, that raw energy, the embodiment of death, that she'd stolen from the cauldron, peaking out, "You can't blame the boy for his feelings. He's not the only one who feels that way."
Cassian didn't respond, his mind also wandering to a place he tried to not venture. It'd been three weeks since they'd been to the grave, since everything had halted for them to mourn, before spiraling off back into normal. That grey headstone stuck to the front of his mind, a stinging failure.
"Let him think," she stated blandly, her icy eyes locking with Cassian's own earth toned ones, "the girls are itching for a man to throw around anyway, why don't you go help them."
Cassian cut her a grin, "you just want to watch me get my ass handed to me by your girls."
"Absolutely." Nesta squeezed his shoulder before letting go, "Now make use of yourself. I'll deal with Cenric."
"Very well," Cassian pressed a light kiss to Nesta's temple before stalking off across the mud, rolling his shoulders in preparation of the hell cats fury he knew he was about to be subjected to, he glanced over a shoulder calling, "try to leave some skin on the poor kids behind."
Nesta let out one sharp snort before turning her attention away from Cassian, waiting on her nephew to come to her.
Cassian chuckled mirthlessly, his hands shoving in his pockets, rustling his wings as he stalked towards the high pitched laughter of Nesta's unit. Cassian watched as the girls flared their wings, taunting one another and for the briefest moment imagined what Celeste would have looked like amongst them.
Damnit kid, Cassian thought feeling a tingling at the corner of his eyes, I'm sorry.
Cenric wrapped back around after a couple laps to where he and Cassian had been training and was surprised to see his aunt in his uncle's spot.
"Nesta," he greeted, the run having worn some of the edge off his anger, "Where's Cassian."
"Training with the girls," She popped her neck and stepped forward, her ice eyes watching him with a predator's intent, Cenric immediately felt the blood drain from his face, "you're training with me now."
He immediately regretted his choices.