Azriel was hunting on the continent. He had winnowed across the small sea and soared further inland for two days, stopping often to listen in the shadows. He had come because there was a rumor of midwives who could deliver babies with a cut to the stomach. He knew such hope was foolish, but he was desperate for Rhys and Feyre and her time was coming near. He learned quickly both humans and fae alike had a great fear of his wings, so any intelligence he would gather would have to be by force or through listening in the shadows. Torturing midwives was not something he thought even he could do, so he spent much of his time in the shadows.
As soon as he had touched down on the continent, something felt different than his previous trips to this land. A tug of some sort? It was not strong, but persistent and seemed to have a clear direction, so he followed it. At dusk on the second day, he was traveling along the edge of a forest when he heard a scream of pain and anger from the forest. The voice sounded female, and fae. It even had the rough growl of an Illyrian, but that couldn't be. In any case, he ran toward the sound and within seconds he had crossed half a mile. He found two females, one with the leathery wings of an Illyrian lying still on the ground while another, fae, knelt above her. She had cast a shield and was furtively shooting arrows into the darkness. Several ash arrows returned from the darkness. They pierced the shield but were thrown off course enough that the first few missed the fighter. Three arrows sticking out of the fallen Illyrian explained the scream of pain and anger. Azriel threw his own shield around them and lept into flight in search of the source of the deadly ash arrows. From the air he realized there was a small army hidden in the forest. About fifty fae were all armed with quivers of ash arrows and were quickly encircling the females. One caught a glimpse of him in the air and sounded the alarm. Immediately a hail of arrows fell upon him. He winnowed just in time to barely avoid being hit. Strange, he thought, it was if the fae were looking for someone in the air?
He winnowed to the ground outside his shield to see that it was taking far more hits than he ever expected in such a remote place. He recognized something bigger was going on here than a local scuffle and debated if he should call his brothers. Just then the earth began shaking under his feet, as only he'd felt centuries before in an earthquake. Not sure if he called on purpose or not, but Rhys appeared with Cassian on his arm, both ready for a battle.
"Are you hurt?" Rhys yelled over the noise as Cassian threw a shield around the three of them. They had expected to meet soldiers, and turned to see where the danger was coming from. The shaking clearly worried them too. Azriel shook his head in answer and pointed to the two females, now joined by a third. The third also had wings and had taken two ash arrows into the crook of her right shoulder and chest. It was the common injury received by archers, but he saw no bow or arrows in her left hand. In moves that only come from centuries of practice together, Rhys and Cassian turned together and started returning blows into the dark. Rhys motioned his brothers closer to the females, and they unsteadily ran toward them. Azriel picked up the first injured Illyrian, Cassian grabbed the newcomer, and Rhys wrapped his arm around the waist of the one still lobbing arrows and winnowed them all to safety.
They landed on the coast near cliffs overlooking the sea. Azriel recognized it as the far south eastern coast of the Night Court. The earth, however, was still shaking. Or did it start when they landed? As the males looked at each other in confusion and then at their surroundings the fighter gathered herself.
"Sidra! Sidra!" she yelled, reaching for her friend. Cassian had sat her down on the ground so he could prepare to meet whatever was still threatening them. The wounded Illyrian groaned and shifted when her right wing touched the ground. She had an arrow sticking out of the joint between her wing and shoulder and another just below her collar bone. The fighter held her up. "You!" She yelled to Cassian. "Pull the arrows out of her!" Cassian saw no threats from around them, so whipped out his knife and knelt next to the wounded Illyrian. Neither had pierced completely through, which surprised him. It also made them much more dangerous, as any movement of her shoulder or wing caused more damage. He steadied her, cut the appropriate slit next to the one in her upper chest, and removed it cleanly. The archer held her in a sitting position and her wing at the angle he needed. Cassian made another clean cut in the sensitive wing and removed the second. He then pulled a cloth from his pocket and pressed against the wing wound and motioned for her companion to hold it on the wound. He used another cloth to press on the wound to her chest. The injured Illyrian took a deep breath and the earth quit shaking.
"Sidra, how badly are you hurt?" asked her friend.
"Fuuuuck." The one named Sidra groaned in reply and leaned back into her friend. "This fucking hurts, but it'll heal." Before Sidra could say anything more, the archer turned to Azriel and motioned to her unconscious friend. "Can you remove those arrows, or do we need a healer?" One had hit her wings, but two more had hit her in the gut. Based on how fast she was fading from consciousness, Azriel suspected faebane. He had cut open the lower part of her shirt enough to see that the arrows had penetrated deeply and patched over the wounds with his siphons, making two blue spider webs around the arrows. She was lucky one hadn't hit her spine.
"I can remove them now, and need to quickly since they are ash. They are in her gut, though, and will fester quickly. We need to get her to a healer immediately." Rhys has leaned down to help him position her wing to carefully remove it. It came out relatively easily, and then Azriel began working on the others.
"Thank you. I'm Manon. This is Petria." She motioned to the now unconscious Illyrian. "And the loud one is Sidra."
"What was that? The shaking?" Said Cassian.
"Sidra." Replied Manon.
Cassian misunderstood the name was an answer, and interpreted it as a command. He looked down and offered to help her up. It seemed the blood flow was already slowing. Even by fae standards this was fast. Sidra turned to check on her friends. She also removed the cloth from her shoulder and pulled her shirt down a bit to look at her wound. Her shocked face was met with Manon saying "By the Mother, Sidra, your tattoo!" There was no tattoo that Azriel could see.
"You!" said Sidra aggressively, pointing to Azriel. "Show me your chest!" Azriel was baffled but there was no arguing with that tone. Slightly bemused at the command, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt and showed her the top of his chest, which was covered in tattoos that marked his accomplishments as an Illyrian warrior.
Unsatisfied and clearly unimpressed, Sidra looked at Rhys. "Show me your chest." Rhys did not at all appreciate the tone, but magicked his shirt off, daring Sidra to comment. Most of the tattoos were the same or similar to Azriel's.
Sidra turned to Cassian, who was smirking at the bizarre series of requests. Without being asked he made a little show of untying the top of his shirt to expose his chest. "And now you're going to…" he started joking and looked down at his own chest. Cassian mostly had the same tattoos as Azriel and Rhys, except that since before Azriel and Rhys had met him, he had a rather clumsy tattoo covering a large part of his right pectoral muscle. When Azriel had asked him about it, he had said it was from his mother, but he didn't remember getting it. It was now gone. Cassian looked up at Sidra for some explanation. "How did you...?"
"Thank you for saving my life, Cassian. And you're welcome. Your debt is paid." Sidra said casually as she stood up, groaning slightly.
"What?!" Exclaimed Cassian. Azriel and Rhys looked at each other. No mind-speak needed to communicate their surprise.
Sidra made an exasperated motion with her left wing and rubbed her forehead. Then she turned and to take stock of their surroundings. "Look. It's a long story. We haven't eaten in two days, we carry no food, there is no shelter here, and my friend is sick. I have shit to do. Thank you for your help. If you'd like to either help set up camp or winnow us someplace with food, a bed, and a healer, I'll be happy to share a story later. Is there an inn close by? Where are we?" She said this in a tone that communicated she didn't really expect any more help and was hoping they would leave.
"The Night Court," answered Rhys solemnly. "I can take you to my house, give you shelter, and call for a healer if you'd like. When you are safe, we would very much like to hear this story." He stood up and held out his hand to Sidra. "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." She took his hand gingerly and shook it so that it didn't aggravate the wounds in her shoulder. "This is Azriel the Shadowsinger," he motioned, "You know Cassian." he added wryly.
She bowed to Rhys all too informally and said cautiously, "we can pay you, but don't have any payment with us now." Clearly she was wary of such a generous offer for no reason.
"I don't need a payment now, but I would like to hear how you knew my brother's name and specifics of his body." Rhys said firmly.
"Brother?" asked Sidra.
"It's a long story." He replied coolly, failing to elaborate.
"Manon? What do you think?" asked Sidra, biting her bottom lip and starting to gently move her right wing into a better position so that it would not drag the ground or stick out awkwardly. She was holding the cloth over the wound just below her shoulder, but the bleeding seemed to have slowed or stopped completely.
"I think we don't have a lot of options," said Manon resignedly. She sighed and looked at them each in turn, scrutinizing them. She seemed to decide that if they were going to do something horrible to them, the opportune time was before they removed the arrows.
Sidra puffed out her cheeks and sighed. "Ok. We accept your offer. Thank you."
"Shit. What a total disaster." Said Manon.
"Not entirely" said Sidra coyly. "I have something for you," she added with a bit of spark in her voice.
"No! Really?! By the Mother, Sidra you're unbelievable! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!" She said excitedly as Sidra reached for her satchel with her left hand and pulled out a bloody mass that, after a moment, Azriel recognized as a fresh fae heart.
"I hit him with a rock." Sidra said playfully. Manon cracked maniacally. "Then I cut a hole in his chest." Sidra continued, her voice suddenly turning cold. "Carefully, of course. I gently broke the ribs above it. Then I cut out the monster's heart. It had enough time to beat once in my hand. The blood spilled onto his face. It was the last thing he saw." She held out the heart to her friend who took it reverently.
"Brutal. Beautiful." Manon said. Azriel couldn't help but silently agree. It took some skill and patience to remove a heart in such a way that it would beat even after being severed. After a pause Manon added, "Matt will be annoyed and Dronan will be furious." She tossed it between one hand to the other, seeming to relish the squelching noises it made. After thinking for a second, she said, "Maybe we can tell them he fell."
"I think that's a great story," said Sidra darkly.
Manon sighed. Then casually tossed the heart a few feet away into the plain. She started wiping her hands and gathered up her bow and remaining arrows. "Are we ready? What do we need to do?"
Azriel was staring at Sidra, mesmerized. He realized Manon was asking him when Rhys answered. He'd magicked his shirt back on. The obvious way to winnow back was for Azriel to take Petria and Rhys take the rest. The females refused to be separated, however, discussed how to arrange themselves so Rhys could winnow all of them. Cassian offered to carry Sidra, at which point she flatly refused.
"We will winnow into the air and need to soar down to the house. With your hurt wing its best if you let Cassian carry you," said Rhys not too gently.
"Cassian can carry me when I'm dead. I'll soar." The ensuing staring contest between Sidra and Rhys reminded him of the many standoffs he's watched between Cassian and Rhys over the years, mostly before Rhys was High Lord. Azriel watched with appreciation how she held her ground. Surely she could feel the raw power radiating from him, but it made no difference to her.
"Suit yourself. When you crash into the cliff Cass will fly down and get you. We're already calling a healer so I guess it won't matter," said Rhys, highly annoyed. Cassian chuckled.
It took a few minutes for Az and Rhys to figure out the logistics of winnowing in such a way that they could catch the air quickly enough, while Azriel was carrying an unconscious female with wings loose in the air. While they were working this out, Sidra pointed to Cassian's siphons and asked what they were. Cassian explained. She asked a few more questions. When they had finally figured out their travel arrangements and Azriel was standing, holding a limp female Illyrian, Sidra asked Cassian, "Can I try it?"
"Really? Now?" Azriel said, exasperated.
"I'll just be a second." she replied firmly.
"Sure. Why not." Cassian was looking at her as if he'd discovered a new species. He'd clearly enjoyed the verbal sparing with Rhys. He removed the one on his left hand and held it to her. She didn't fit it over her hand as the males wore it, but simply held it in her hand. She took a few steps toward the cliff and looked out across the small beach and at cliffs on the other side of a small enclave. She concentrated for a second and motioned a short punch with her left hand. A red stream of light shot out of her hand and exploded on the cliff, starting a small avalanche of rock.
"Cool. Thank you" she said, handing it back to Cassian casually. "Let's go."