Sidra did manage to make it to the balcony of the House of Wind. Azriel didn't see her in flight, but caught her in the corner of his eye as she landed with much more grace than could be expected, although she appeared mortified that she stumbled when she landed.
The healer addressed everyone's wounds while the House supplied fresh clothes and baths for Manon and Sidra. They promised to clean up quickly and joined most of Rhys's court for dinner. Sidra sat in the first chair at the table, Azriel beside her. Petria sat across from Sidra, then Rhys and Cassian. Feyre sat next to Azriel. Nesta and Elain did not join them for dinner. Mor was out, and Amren declined the invitation because Varian was visiting.
Dinner was a large roast pheasant, with simple steamed green beans and sauteed potatoes with rosemary and garlic. The newcomers politely took a serving of everything that was offered, but Azriel got the feeling Sidra was hungrier than she let on.
How do you suggest we go about this? Asked Rhys in Azriel's mind.
I don't think they are opposed to telling us this story. Just tired. Be asking. Azriel replied.
This is the advice of my great spymaster? Rhys asked, laughing heartily in Azriels head as he rarely did in front of outsiders.
Being nice works more often than you'd think, Azriel replied wryly.
You haven't stopped staring at her. I think your mouth actually fell open when she pulled that heart out of her bag. You ask. Rhys challenged.
Azriel glared at him and ignored the implication. Sidra had finished her vegetables. Azriel reached for the serving platter, put a few more green beans on his plate and offered it to her. She took another full serving. Azriel offered her more meat and a roll, which she also gratefully accepted.
"We have questions. But then we assume you do as well. How about we trade? An answer for an answer," Azriel said, looking each of the newcomers in the eye in turn. He took a sip of wine and studied Sidras face carefully. She was beautiful. He could see Cassian's features in her. The same shaped eyes, although her hazel eyes had a bit more green in them. Similar jawline. Same color and texture hair. She had just bathed and let her hair dry naturally. I was still a bit damp and hung loose to her shoulders. She seemed completely unbothered to be sitting at the table with a High Lord and his court without taking time on her appearance.
"How are you three brothers?" Sidra opened the game with a fairly safe question. Rhys's eyes narrowed at her taking the first question so boldly. She was really pushing his buttons.
Rhys answered. "I'm the son of the High Lord and an Illyrian woman. A half-breed. Cassian was born out of wedlock to a poor Illyrian female and a brutal married asshole. Azriel was also born out of wedlock in similar circumstances. We wound up in the same camp. My mother raised us all as if we were her sons. We trained together, fought wars together, and have sacrificed a lot for each other. We are brothers because we choose to be."
Sidra opened her mouth to ask a follow-up question, but Rhys spoke first. "How do two Illyrian and one fae female wind up together on the continent?" he asked. "In an ambush of fae with faebane-tipped ash arrows." added Azriel.
Unfazed, Sidra answered. "I was born in Illyria. I ran away so I could escape having my wings clipped and being used as breeding stock by assholes such as your fathers. Much later I pulled Petria from a similar fate. We've been taking care of each other for a long time now. We came to the continent as part of our wandering centuries ago, but have been staying for the past decade or so at a manor named Silva Manor. We met Manon there." Sidra took a sip of her wine and pondered her next question.
"That didn't explain the ambush," asked Azriel. He noticed the lack of specifics in her story similar to Rhys's omissions. Even wounded, probably exhausted, and clearly still hungry - she spooned more potatoes onto her plate - she was mentally very sharp. She still had very clear in her mind what she would give away and what she wouldn't.
"It is a long story. Like all battles and wars, politics is ultimately the reason. I'm not opposed to explaining the situation, but it's irrelevant to you all. I can explain later if you're interested but not tonight." replied Sidra, not coldly. She looked Azriel in the eyes apologetically, asking him to move on.
"How did you come to be there?" Sidra asked Azriel.
"As a shadowsinger, I am the High Lord's Spymaster. Cassian is General of his armies. I was seeking some specific intelligence when I came across you by accident. I heard the scream and came to see what had happened," Azriel answered, holding her gaze steadily.
"What intelligence?" Asks Manon.
With some effort Azriel broke Sidra's gaze and turned to Manon. "The confidential kind," he replied simply. "I assure you it has nothing to do with local politics."
"Fair enough," replied Manon.
Sidra sighed. "And now your question. How is it I know about your tattoo?" she looked at Cassian. She took a deep sip of wine, and shifted in her chair, as if steeling herself. Azriel realized she was nervous. Much more so than she'd been when debating to winnow here with three Illyrian warriors she'd just met.
She blotted her mouth with her napkin and held it in her hands, lightly tugging it between them as she began talking. "I, too, was born a bastard. I lived with my mother on the edge of our camp high in the mountains. One day when I was six, we were out checking traps. It was barely turning into spring. It was the first day the snow had started to melt. Mother and I had left our home just after dawn - calling it a shack would be generous - and had been out all morning when we found a wolf in one of our traps. It was small, still a pup. It had probably been playing with the trap and got caught. This was really lucky for us because the pelt was still thick with its winter coat and it had enough meat that we would eat for a day or so. Mom cut it loose from the trap but didn't dress it there. We wanted to use what we could from the insides too so we took it home whole. When we got near the camp, we could tell something was wrong. I remember there was a woman wailing and some yelling in the background." At this point she paused, staring at her plate. She sighed and took another sip of wine. When she sat the glass down, she went back to working the napkin with her hands. The cloth was starting to fray. Azriel looked around the table at his family. Rhys was leaning forward, his hand on the stem of his glass of wine and slightly twirling it. Cassian had both elbows on the table, and was leaning on his hands, which together held his own cloth napkin in front of his mouth. Feyre was leaning back in the chair, her hands both across the top of her swollen belly.
Sidra continued. "A woman who was a friend of my mother - maybe her sister? I don't recall. They were close. Anyway, she came running up to us, clearly upset and thanking the gods she found us. Apparently, the man who sired me had sired yet another. His wife was angry and demanded all of his bastards be killed. A few of the Illyrian males had already killed the newborn and had come to our house looking for us. They were currently following our trail out into the forest. Mother didn't wail or scream or panic. She said for me to move fast and silent. The three of us ran straight to another woman's house and told her the story. The other woman - I'm sorry I don't remember her name either…. I was six." she broke off, anger creeping into her voice.
She took another deep breath and for the first time looked up. She looked at Cassian and quickly back down at her plate, as if it wasn't safe to look at him. "We gathered some things. Mother dressed the wolf in the tent, which we, of course, never did. The three of them made a mess of it. I didn't understand why at the time, but realize now it was deliberate. It would help hide our scent. We packed up a tiny bit of food and the wolf. Mother's friend or sister or whatever left to go do something. Maybe she was distracting or misleading the males? I don't know. I didn't really understand at the time. Mother, me, and the other woman left her shack, with the woman carrying her two-year-old son. We moved as fast and silently as we could. They couldn't fly because their wings were clipped so we trampled through the snow away from the camp. As we were walking, mother started giving me instructions. I didn't realize what she was planning yet. 'Remember to hold your wings STIFF while you soar. Ride the currents. It requires less effort. We are very high so it will be mostly downhill. Stick to the sunlight areas. There will be thermals that will help hold you aloft.'
"We got to a cliff that I hadn't been to before. Looking back I don't think either one of the females was crying, although I can still hear the heartbreak in my mother's voice. They tied the wolf to my back, between my wings. 'You'll need the pelt and the meat. You remember how to skin it? Like we practiced?'
"Then they handed me this beautiful baby boy to hold, and started tying him to me. I clearly remember the panic at that point. I could see out over the canyon that it was a thousand-foot drop ahead of me. That frightened me less than the realization I'm now completely responsible for this whole person. This BABY."
Her voice broke. She was still looking straight at the table, not at anyone's face. Her hands and whole body had frozen, as if she was remembering the panic.
"They hugged us and kissed us and said they loved us. Then Mother picked me up to stand on her shoulders. She coached me for a few more minutes from her shoulders as I practiced holding out my wings and catching the breeze. She waited until I seemed steady and then… pushed. I heard them both gasp behind me but I couldn't look back. I dropped rapidly but caught the air soon enough. It was pretty windy up there, and with the sun out there were plenty of thermals to ride."
She looked at Cassian, who still had his elbows on the table, hands clasped. Napkin still in his hands in a fist in front of his face. His eyes were tearing up. He knew how this would end. It dawned on Azriel as she continued.
"You were so heavy. You must have been half my weight. And the wolf… it was hard to steady us. But I was determined. I thought it might be ok if I die but I could not let this baby die. His mommy trusted me with him. With you. I was six." Her voice was getting thicker. Every time she looked up at Cassian the tears welled up so she looked down again at the table to continue.
"We glided down. I followed the canyon to the river as mother had told me, then I followed the large river down to its sweeping left turn. Like she said there was a clearing in the crook of the bank, and another camp. Windhaven. We crashed into a snowbank. Thank the Mother it was truly snow and not a boulder. I untied you. Made a shelter out of the snow and some limbs. Then we skinned the wolf. I showed you how to hold the knife. I remember being so angry that those tiny puffy fingers should not be learning to hold a knife. You were so determined. When I started cutting meat off of it you insisted on helping with that too. So, I showed you. You did a terrible job but you were determined. We both knew learning this was life or death for you.
"I huddled us into a small nest and put the wolf pelt on top of you, fur side on you. I curled around you and made a tent with my wing to keep you warm. It must have been cold, but at the lower altitude, and with you next to me, I guess it was no colder than how I usually slept. Somehow we didn't freeze to death. The next morning, we could tell we were close enough to camp that you could walk to find people. I made a small pack for you. Told you not to give your knife or pelt to anyone. Give away the meat if you must. Find a female to take you in. You nodded solemnly through all these instructions. I explained that I had to leave, or I would be clipped and made to have babies like our moms." She continued rapidly, as if she would never be able to finish if she paused again. Azriel could scent the emotions rolling off of her. The panic of a child was strong, but anger was overwhelming. It was so strong it boiled up in him. He was ready to murder Cassian's sire again.
"You said you would save my life someday. You owed me. It was a ridiculous thing for a two-year-old to say, but I didn't dare make fun. So I agreed to it. You insisted we mark the debt 'like grown-ups.' So I marked us with the matching tattoos. I let you pick the spot. You chose that one," she pointed to just below where the arrow had been removed. "I think you'd seen something similar on the Illyrian males. It's a ridiculous spot to mark a female, but of course that logic was beyond you. Honestly, I didn't think it would be there very long so I didn't hesitate." She looked up from her plate and into Cassian's pained face. For once he didn't have a snarky comment.
"All these years I've hoped that because I still had the tattoo it meant you were still alive. Then after the war with Hybern I heard tales of the great General Cassian." she said with awe, a hint of smile creeping into her lips. "I fantasized that this hero was my baby brother, knowing it was probably a fantasy. It's beyond my dreams to find you healthy, happy, and with a family who loves you. And a hero, no less." She finally tore her gaze from Cassian and noticed tears were streaming down all of their faces. She seemed surprised. At the tears? Azriel wondered, or that they didn't bother to hide them? She looked at Rhys questioningly for a moment and turned to Azriel. The tears welled up fresh but she held his gaze.
"Thank you, sister, for saving my life. And you're welcome," said Cassian, exactly mimicking her tone from earlier. The similarities were clear. They had the same shaped eyes and face. Similar complexion. Cassian was a huge male. Sidra was beautiful but no one would call her petite or delicate. Her voice and cadence of her speech was similar to Cassian. Azriel now recognized she was already pushing Rhys's buttons as only Cassian could do. Or possibly Nesta.
Sidra let out a deep sign. She wiped her eyes with the napkin and rubbed her forehead - another gesture similar to Cassian. She downed the rest of her wine and seemed to steel herself for the next thing she wanted to say. She looked at Azriel. "So? How does this work? What are the rules these days in the Night Court for mates?"