NINE: Spies

Autumn

Azriel's first full night out after the kidnapping and subsequent healing was more difficult than he'd expected it to be. He had healed more quickly than Nadja expected, and seemed to largely do it on his own, although healing the wounds hurt like hell. He had spent time testing his new powers and discovered that he had a whole new sense of the earth. Sidra guided him as he learned that he could now tell how thick was any given rock he was standing on, where water was flowing nearby or sometimes beneath him, and where magma was close to the surface. He, too, could sense hot springs and became more impervious to the cold and extreme heat.

He couldn't pull lava from the earth or control the movement of rocks in the way she could, but his shadows were deeper, stronger, and more responsive. His fae powers in general were stronger as was their mating bond, to the point that she could now open true daemati conversations with him. He could sense her much farther away, and was even more aware of her emotions at any given moment. Interestingly, and somewhat alarmingly, they discovered they could each still block the emotional connection down bond from each other completely.

He had not spoken to his spies for over a month. They still had no good answers to who funded the fall invasion of Illyria, and also had no idea who was behind the attack on Sidra and Azriel. Intelligence was critical.

When he finally felt ready to go out on his own, he sent word to his most important spy in the Autumn Court that he was coming. After a day's delay he received the signal that he would be met. Sidra was in a near panic before he left. She composed herself relatively well, but the panic scent was pervasive and strong and she didn't apologize or try to hide it. She simply held him tightly in the foyer of their home for long moments, taking deep breaths to steady herself. The breaths had started out as silent sobs, and Azriel held her silently. Tightly. Not daring to breathe lest he lose control as well.

When she had calmed and returned her breathing and heartbeat to normal, she asked him in a soft but firm voice, "Will you reach out through the bond every two hours? Just a brief flicker. Just for these first few days."

He could not refuse. He nodded his head, which was nuzzled in her neck, then pulled back to give her a long, soft kiss. He held her lips and inhaled her scent, knowing she was doing the same. Then with one last peck on the lips and a reassuring smile, he was gone from the warm foyer of his home in the Night Court and out into the brisk air above the Autumn Court.

He circled as a shadow in the sky in wide circles, narrowing with each turn to survey the landscape. After the many years this spy had been meeting him, he trusted that she had taken all the proper precautions that he'd taught her, along with a few more that they had devised later together. He searched in the area around a dilapidated shack that appeared to be one strong storm away from falling down. He could see nor sense anyone.

He winnowed to the ground about fifty yards from the shack and listened to the shadows. Nothing. He then winnowed to a place next to the empty windowsill and peered in. Nothing. They had arranged that he would always arrive last for the safety of them both. If she had been seen or followed, he would not come and she could plausibly claim to have paused here to enjoy some rare peace on her day off. If someone arrived later and found them together, Azriel would kill the intruder and winnow her to a place far removed from the site. Over the years, they had changed location a few times. This spot wasn't his favorite because it was a bit closer to a small village than he would like, but it would suffice for a few more months.

Each time they met, he entered in a different manner. Sometimes he winnowed to the center of the room, while other times he winnowed to a spot just outside and walked in through the door. He was careful to never use exactly the same steps. Before he ever touched ground in the area, he always reached to her mind to ensure it was calm and she felt safe. Or at least as safe as she ever felt in her life in the Autumn Court.

Azriel entered the shack and blacked out the windows, cracks in the walls and under the door with his shadows, allowing her to light a fae lamp so they could see each other. From the outside, it would look as if the shack was dark and deserted.

Illumination revealed the small fae sitting in a simple wooden chair. She had the green-tinted skin that betrayed her as the shameful product of two different types of fae. She had long, limp dark brown hair that was tied loosely with a shabby ribbon and large black eyes that were alert and saw everything, even though she often held them downcast and rarely was allowed to look anyone in the eye.

"Oh Azriel! I heard about what happened to you and your mate! I'm so glad you're back. Are you healed?" She spoke softly, as was her habit but she asked in a tone of concern and worry, which was a rare privilege for her.

"I am healed. Thank you. Are you well?" He asked his usual greeting.

"I am. As well as I can expect." The code phrase for safety. She had no reason to expect danger tonight.

"It pleases me to hear this." His code for the same. She relaxed a bit into her chair. He sat across from her in a chair that was not made to accommodate wings, but the simple wooden chair with a low back allowed him to sit comfortably.

"What did you hear about us?" he asked, getting right to business. In her usual manner, she brilliantly recalled specific conversations, tones, expressions and key phrases between the members of the Autumn Court. They had been informed fairly accurately on the events as they had transpired on the continent, but not so accurately Azriel suspected they had a spy or any special knowledge of the plot.

Her descriptions of court member responses led him to believe they were each truly surprised, if not a little too pleased, to hear that the Shadowsinger and his mysterious mate, the Earthshaker - that was a new name - had been captured and tortured. The Autumn Court were nervous to hear about the escape and the details here were fuzzy. Azriel gave his spy some additional information - all perfectly accurate - for her to plant in the gossip mill of the court serving staff. Because the information was accurate, it would be extremely difficult to track the source. Any anonymous traveler could bring accurate news to the court to any level of rank. Azriel wanted them to fear Sidra, The Earthshaker.

Thankfully, no word of the events in Illyria had reached the Autumn Court.

After he was satisfied that he understood the full story as it was spreading through the Autumn Court, along with the usual embellishments, he moved to what would seem to an outside observer as mundane discussion. He'd trained this spy well, though, to make note of things that were important: who had visited, who was planning to visit, who from the Court had taken a trip or was planning one, who was annoyed with whom at some petty grievance, who among staff had been mistreated (again) and by whom, who among staff was being treated better than usual or outright bribed for some apparently petty reason.

Azriel kept a close eye on his watch, and was careful to send a burst of calm reassurance through the bond every two hours. After his third burst, he was finished gathering information. As he always did, he thanked his spy for her patience with his questions and her careful gathering of information. He asked if she needed anything. She replied as she always did: nothing.

Even after years of asking and receiving the same answer, it never failed to surprise faintly that she didn't ask for much. It would be tempting for a female in her position to ask for many things, big and small, to ease her life. She was a servant to the High Lord himself, and was treated abominably. She was paid poorly, and housed in a room that sounded as if it was poorly insulated and poorly furnished. She was often treated roughly by members of the court, both verbally and physically. More than once, she'd appeared for their meetings with a bruise that was a sure sign of violence. When he'd asked about the wounds, she would answer Azriel's question as to what happened, but only in the manner she spoke of everything else that happened in the Autumn Court. She never asked for his sympathy, either directly or through attempting to emotionally manipulate him. She was skinny, probably because she never got quite enough to eat.

Azriel often brought food, but always under the pretense of something for them to share, and always staples that could readily have been purchased in the Autumn Court. He regretted that tonight he hadn't had the chance to procure something to eat. She certainly deserved anything the Night Court could offer her in exchange for her bravery and diligence, although anything but the smallest trinkets or necessities would be suspicious.

After she politely refused his offer of gifts, she ended this portion of their sessions in her usual manner. "And that is all I have for tonight."

He responded in his usual way. "Thank you for your service to the Night Court. We are in your debt." He stood up, took the two steps to her chair and held out his hand. As usual, she took it and stood up. He kissed her hand. Then he kissed her cheek and led her to the bed.

Azriel

Azriel returned to the house early in the morning after he had bathed and changed clothes as was his custom. Sidra met him in the foyer with a bear hug. She was taking deep, fast breaths that showed she was near to sobbing with relief. He held her tightly and silently, wrapping his arms around her waist and his wings around her shredded stumps. Her arms were under his and holding him tightly along the inside of his wings, with her hands on his shoulders.

When she calmed down, she kissed his neck. He murmured his pleasure, so she ran her lips lightly up his neck to his lips. She kissed him deeply. She became more passionate and he responded. She pulled him into the drawing room and removed his clothes gently, as if she was worried there may still be wounds. He did the same, although she definitely still had wounds. She still had angry red scars all over her body and large patches of burns or where skin had been cut away. She'd left the scars on purpose and had yet to begin healing her wings. He tried not to think about the original injuries and kissed her wherever the skin was fresh. He knew most of the scars were very sensitive and that touching them may bring back memories of pain.

She wasn't yet ready for sex, but she wanted to love him, so she focused on his wings. She brushed them with her lips and fingertips, and ran her tongue along the most sensitive areas in the seam where they met his back. He groaned in pleasure. She pulled him to the floor of the drawing room and settled him on his back with his wings splayed. She knelt on her elbows and knees between his legs and finished him with her mouth. When he had roared his climax and finished spasming, she lay down on him, with her legs straddling him and her elbows on the floor next to his head. She looked him steadily in the eye, kissed his lips gently, and said, "I love you, Azriel." She kissed him again. Pleasure bloomed in his body.

He replied, "I know." She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows at him. "You can't keep secrets from the Shadowsinger," he teased. She laughed out loud and then put her forehead on his and rubbed his nose with hers.

"I have loved you for a long time, Sidra," he said. "I've been waiting for you to decide if you want me to." She sighed deeply and nodded her forehead a bit on his. Then she lifted her head abruptly to look at him.

"Since when?"

"Since you pulled a fresh fae heart out of your satchel," he said with a mischievous smile. Then he added more seriously, "before I realized that you were my mate." She pondered this, playing with his hair and studying the lines of his face.

"It's hard for me to understand the difference between wanting to fuck you all the time and truly loving you. I guess I have to admit that I need you physically, but also, I need to know you're safe. And that you'll come home to hold me."

"I know," he said again. "There are many types of affection and need that we pathetically lump into the same word 'love.' I love Cassian and Rhys, but those feelings are entirely different than the feelings for you."

"They better be. We will have big problems if you want to invite Cassian into our bed," she teased.

"But not Rhys?" he teased. She rolled her eyes and playfully bit his nipple. He yowled.

They walked upstairs together and she lay down with him until he was asleep. When he awoke, she was beside him, but had bathed, changed clothes and probably had eaten breakfast. She left her own clothes on but loved him with the same attentions she'd given in the morning. He went to shower while she went to ensure he had lunch ready when he was dressed.

Azriel typically did not join Sidra in the afternoons because he often met with Rhys, but today was different. She couldn't fly or winnow, so he winnowed her to Adriata, under the guise that someone must take her and everyone else was busy. In truth, she didn't want anyone touching her other than Azriel or Matt. Azriel admitted to no one except Matt that it was excruciating for him to leave her for long periods. He could handle leaving her in the house at night, with its protections and Matt to ward off any nightmares, but watching her go to a distant city and be surrounded with people outside the court - males, no less, was more than he could bear. Azriel understood her terror all too well when he had left her at night.

He winnowed her to the spot she directed, and spent the rest of the day standing silently in the background as she worked. By now she had a standard group of people that she usually met. She talked easily with the lead engineer, Faber, about what they had done, to assess how well it had worked, consider their next steps, and determine the next set of priorities.

She talked easily with the rest of the team as well. She innately understood how to convey that she was considering their input carefully and address their concerns without dismissing them, even if she disagreed with their suggestions. She was the clear leader of the team, and they were all aware of her enormous power, but none were afraid to offer a candid opinion. She invited their input, criticisms, and crazy ideas. The actions taken by the group were certainly guided by her plan, but were truly a product of group discussions and decisions. In short, she was a good leader. It was yet another personality trait she shared with her brother.

She greeted people who were living in the area in which they were working with warmth and reassurances that the team was working hard to keep them safe. She patiently answered all of their questions patiently, and explained complex magic and forces of nature in a non-threatening way. A few times people she knew greeted her with familiarity and hugs. More than once Azriel noticed her grimace as someone inadvertently touched something sensitive, but she never complained to them. At such times it was difficult for Azriel not to growl.

Almost universally everyone expressed horror at seeing the damage to her wings and other visible scars. Several people commented with concern about how she wasn't healing as fast as Azriel had. She brushed off these concerns with light explanations or a joke.

As Azriel watched silently, he realized she had yet another singular power: her way with people. Azriel watched the passion that stirred in them upon seeing her wounds and realized that she could control the flow of their loyalties, love, anger, and passion, as easily as she could control the flow of lava that she pulled from the earth. And she was being offered her own court. With its own standing army. That she could physically power herself.

And she loved him. She had threatened to destroy an entire kingdom for Azriel, regardless of Rhys's wishes. Azriel realized with dismay that he would have to include these interactions with the people of Adriata in his next intelligence briefing with Rhys. He realized, with a bit more dismay, that Rhys would not need to be told why her admission of love or why a summary of today's interactions with the people of Adriata would need to be included in the briefing. She could raise and power her own army to fight whomever she chose.

Losail

Losail was huddled into a small space with four other giggling servants. It was the place they had gathered on previous occasions to observe the arriving platform. They were giddy with the excitement of seeing so many distinguished guests winnow to the platform, but they were also giddy with their minor subordination of temporarily abandoning their duties so they could watch the arrivals. In truth there wasn't much to do at the moment, so the other servants were resting someplace where they could find some peace. Losail just happened to be resting with these four by squeezing into a small alcove and watching from this high window across the empty space with a courtyard far below. They were in the Day Palace, which was a maze of walkways and rooms and places to explore. It was a rare pleasant day for several reasons. The staff quarters were much more comfortable than the Autumn Court, and the numerous eyes of strangers ensured she was treated kindlier by her boss and the other Autumn Court staff. The leftover food was sure to be grander than her usual meals, but most of all, her one true friend would be here.

After a few minutes she saw the Shadowsinger and the General arrive on the platform. The General was easily recognizable, mostly because of his size. He was a head taller than most fae and broader than most males with huge wings that were tucked tightly behind him. He was dressed in his gleaming black armor that matched Azriel's. The General's siphons glowed red while Azriel's familiar siphons glowed blue.

She had seen the General a few times, but her eyes were on the Azriel. He was as handsome as ever with his dark shadows trailing around him. From their stiff stance she could tell both the General and Azriel were fully focused on their roles as guard to their High Lord. There was probably a very sharp, scary and serious expression on the Shadowsinger's face, but it was too far to make out the details. He spoke to the guard on the arriving platform, walked around the small platform for a moment and then went into the hallway out of sight, his shadows trailing after him. The General followed. After a few minutes she felt the familiar tap on her mind shields. They hadn't spoken this way very often but he had trained her how to use her shields and she recognized his tap. She let him into a small space in her mind, as he had taught her.

Are you well? Azriel asked in her mind. His usual greeting.

As well as I can expect. Losail answered with her common reply. It was also the code phrase to indicate she expected no danger.

I wish everyday was as pleasant for you as this one. He answered. It meant that he is on the lookout for danger and warning her to be careful.

Hello, Shadowsinger. You look well. She started the true conversation after the spy codes were over.

You can see me? He asked. He didn't seem surprised.

Yes. she answered. Me and a few other females are watching you. Or at least we were when you were on the platform. Oh, there you are. She said half to herself as he re-emerged on the platform. His stance was just as formal as before. He spoke briefly to the guard. They are giggling at how handsome you are. And terrifying.

I need you tonight. He said gently, ignoring the information about giggling females ogling him. He was looking out into the open space as if searching for snipers. He probably was.

Whatever you need. She answered. It was a casual phrase but had come to represent an additional code that she wasn't afraid to do whatever he would ask.

Please pay attention to any of the servants who seem unwilling to engage in gossip. Make sure that you yourself spread plenty. Tell them all you've heard about the kidnapping of the Shadowsinger and his mate. He said all this with no movement from the platform, other than his head swiveling slowly to observe the other towers and landscape beyond.

Those will be things that they have already heard, she said to him in her head. But that is fine because they always try to outdo each other and share something even better. There is no better way to obtain juicy gossip than to spread boring gossip.

Very good. He said, as an acknowledgement of her skill in this. Please pay attention to any new information you hear, as usual, but I'm especially interested in those who are unwilling to participate. Please keep track of their names and if you can't remember their names, at least remember which court they have come from. Azriel paused so Losail could confirm that she understood.

I'll do that. Report back on our next meeting or sooner? she asked him.

We'll plan to meet sooner. Which day will be best for you?

Let's meet in five days, she said. Losail knew she and the other servants would be extra busy for the two days after they returned from the trip, but after the onslaught of chores upon return, there was often a lull as the supervisors were too exhausted to think up any menial work for the lower staff to do.

I'll plan for that, Azriel answered. He sounded pleased with her decisive answer to meet in a relatively short time. You can also engage in the giggling fantasies of what you might think sharing a bed with the Shadowsinger would be like, he said.

Was that said a bit playfully? she wondered to herself.

Are you not worried, my lord, that someone may recognize those fantasies for truth? There was a bit of playfulness in her voice. Not too much, but a little. She couldn't help but wonder if there were any other servants who had a similar arrangement with him.

Nice try. He chuckled openly in her mind. An extremely rare treat for her. He had a lovely laugh that matched his charming personality. This laugh, however, was genuine and not part of a charm scheme to obtain information.

He continued, you're really good at this. If someone does appear to recognize your comments for truth, please be sure to remember their name for me. Then he was gone from her mind and gone from the platform.

"Where did he go?" one of the newer servants asked. The one who asked had been working in the Autumn Court for over a year, but this was her first trip to a meeting of High Lords. The trips were a rare occurrence.

Losail shrugged, even though she knew he had been here scouting for safety and had winnowed back for only a moment to signal it was safe for his High Lord. Before anyone could answer, he was back. A few moments later more fae appeared on the platform. There was no mistaking the High Lord of the Night Court in his black finery. His short jet-black hair was brushed back. He slid one hand into his pocket and held out his other elbow for the High Lady of the Night Court. Losail had seen her once before. She had long brown hair which was tied into a braid and woven artfully at the base of her neck. She was dressed in a long glittering formal black gown. The pair were wearing coordinating black crowns. Although the High Lady's crown was distinctly more feminine, it was not smaller than his.

General Cassian had stepped back out of the hallway and into view. He greeted his High Lord with a bow, and said something to him. Behind the High Lord and Lady were the twin servants that often accompanied the High Lord on such trips, and a few other servants.

Between the High Lord and High Lady and the servants was an Illyrian female that Losail marked immediately as Azriel's mate. She had dark brown hair that was cut unusually short, just barely touching her shoulders. It was unbound and fell in soft waves around her face. She was also dressed unexpectedly, in a red dress made of soft shimmering fabric. It was fastened behind her neck by a thin strap and again on her lower back, leaving her entire back and arms exposed. The cloth fell to a create a very short dress that stopped mid-thigh. Was it sheer? Losail wondered. It was certainly light fabric that clung to every curve of her body as she moved and as the wind blew. The dress was scandalous for a formal occasion, but also an unusual choice for the weather. While the servants were all wearing cloaks and heavy boots out in the cold air, the Shadowsinger's mate, Sidra Earthshaker, appeared untouched by the cold.

Her hair and dress were enough of a shock to elicit the collective gasp from the females watching, but Losail knew the real shock was her wings. They were nothing more than stumps. The stumps were uneven in length, and the bones from each were less than half the length they would be to the joint. It appeared they had been amputated, but the uneven length and lumpy scabs indicated it was done in a brutal chopping. The membrane was nearly gone all along the length of them and down her back, exposing her back and ribs down to the top of her dress.

Even from this distance Losail could make out blotches of red all over her skin that appeared to be scars and barely closed wounds. While many people would assume her dress was chosen with a lack of care and indicated poor moral standards, Losail knew the Shadowsinger well enough to know that absolutely everything about the appearance of everyone in the group, including the servants, was a result of careful planning. To Losail, it was clear the dress had been chosen to expose as much of her wounds as possible, and to create as much shock as possible from observers. The color highlighted the angry scars all over her body.

Losail studied her with a critical, Shadowsinger-trained eye. Her movements were fluid. Her muscles were firm. She was not at all cold. These clues told Losail that she was physically strong, healthy enough to fight, and contained enough of her own magic to easily keep warm against the chill. She had been brutalized and violated in a way that Losail dared not dwell on, but she wasn't afraid to let eyes follow every curve of her scarred body. She was the most beautiful assassin Losail had ever seen, except, possibly, for the Shadowsinger himself.

The kitchens of the Day Court were a flurry of activity, as were the hallways that the servants used. There was a flurry of voices barking instructions, squealing greetings to old friends, grumbling impatient demands to move out of the way, and of course, the never-ending conversation of all things more interesting than their own dreary lives. Gossip touched on everything: which high borns were having an affair, who was pregnant, who might really be the father, and which high born children were outspending their allowance. The conversation always, however, came back around to the purpose of the meeting of the High Lords: the Shadowsinger and his mate. The servants shared what they'd heard and what they speculated in the same breaths. The key topics were much the same among the servants as they were in the formal meeting rooms. Who had orchestrated the attack? How had they come to the specific knowledge to carry it out? Where were the spies that secreted this information to the attackers? Was the goal to kill the Shadowsinger or just use him as bait for Sidra Earthshaker? Was the goal to kill Sidra or force her into compliance? Fat chance of that, Losail thought.

Losail stored the interesting facts in her head as she always did. Because so much was coming so fast, however, she was afraid of forgetting something, or worse, mixing up the information or who it came from. She realized quickly that she would never be able to make sense of the servants who were avoiding the gossip and keep track of all the possibly useful information. When she finally lay her head down on the first night to sleep, she tossed the problem over as she dozed. She didn't dare write anything down…or could she?

The next morning Losail arose with an attack plan of her own. As she went about her chores, she quickly identified a servant who was less than overly chatty and called her out.

"So, you're too good to chat with me?" she teased the servant from Winter Court whose name she had forgotten. The older female sneered at her. Losail launched her own form of attack, calling on a friendly acquaintance from the Summer Court. "Jamis, are all of the Winter Court servants so cold, or is it just this one? What's your name again, Frosty?"

Jamis jauntily joined her game. "Frosty Frida is usually not fun at all," Jamis said, "but Misha will gossip with us." Losail felt bad that this new nickname had the sound of one that would stick, but didn't let up.

"Which one is Misha? I wonder who she thinks is more handsome: the Night Court General or the Shadowsinger?" Losail teased. It was a stupid ploy, but a sure bet for Jamis, who seemed to be smitten with every third male that walked past her.

"I don't know. Let's go find Misha and ask!" Jamis said, taking Losail's bait with ridiculous enthusiasm. Losail was almost embarrassed how well this worked. She was good at this.

"And we'll start a list of the ones who don't want to chat with us. We'll rank them from least agreeable to barely tolerable." Jamis laughed uncontrollably and went about searching for pencil and paper while muttering to herself the least agreeable servants she knew here. Frida stalked off without a word. Losail smiled to herself and set off with Jamis to enlist more unknowing spies for her task.

Night

Francis was having the nightmare of being buried alive in a stone coffin. He banged on the stone walls until his fists bled and screamed until his throat was hoarse. When he was finally exhausted and sobbing quietly, he heard that terrible voice speak to him. The voice was more terrifying than the coffin, but he knew once the voice was finished speaking to him, the coffin would disappear and he would wake up.

You failed.

We tried to kill her! You didn't tell me how strong she is!

The males you used acted as if she was a toy. You knew she was strong. You should have given better instructions to kill her as quickly as possible.

They tried everything!

They could have killed the male.

We thought we could get some information out of him. He would have been dead by the end of the day if she hadn't found him. How in the name of Night did she do that?

Our bargain is broken. You failed to do your part.

Wait! No! Let me try again!

I will take care of my problem by another method. You are not to touch her. In fact, if you know of anyone trying to harm her, I expect you to protect her.

Why?

I don't need to explain myself to you.

Is there something else I can do?

There was a long silence. Francis started sobbing again.

Work as her ally. Be patient. Another opportunity may arise.

Abruptly Francis woke in his bed. He was drenched in sweat and breathing hard. He threw off the covers and checked his hip. The tattoo of the symbol of Night was still there. He relaxed and smiled. Night would give him another chance, after all.