Rage
My friend is hurt. Someone is hurting her. I cannot reach her. She cannot escape them. Who dares hurt her? Who has the ability to trap her? Someone is keeping her from me. How can they separate us?
Rage boils.
I reach out to my oldest friend and ask her, What shall I do? How do I find my new friend? Someone is keeping me from her. How is this possible?
Other friend says she is too far away to help. I do not understand distance, but she speaks to me of this often. I trust her, so I know she cannot help. She would help if she could. She suggests I ask my friend's mate. Oh, yes, her lovely mate that I made for her. I will ask him.
Where is he? He is also hurt. I think he is also hurt badly. He has never reached me properly before, and I cannot reach him now. He is not as strong as her. I cannot touch him. He is also beyond my reach. Who dares keep her lovely mate from her? Who dares hurt them both? Who do I ask now?
I go back to my oldest friend. She says to ask my new friend's kin. Oh, this is good. I reach for the boy.
This boy is strong, for a fae, I think. We have never spoken before. Will he recognize me? Does he know me? I reach for him. It is a long reach. He can barely hear me. But he is full of concern and rage and love. He is a good boy. He listens. He listens carefully. He tries hard to listen. He does not understand, but he loves her and he is a good boy so he will try.
He is so slow. He's strong for a fae, and he tries so hard, but he is still so slow. This good boy trusts me and follows where I lead. He listens carefully. He can barely hear me. He brings more fae with him. My fae.
They find her. He speaks to me in terms of rage. He is a good boy. He is full of rage.
He tells me how much they have hurt her. He asks me to heal her. Of course I will help heal her.
He takes her to some safe place. Water maybe? Oh yes. Smart boy. Good boy. My brother will also help her to reach me.
Finally, there she is! She reaches out to me. She answers me. I've missed her. She is hurt. She is hurt badly. Someone has hurt her badly. Someone has taken her lovely mate of shadows from her.
Rage fills me.
Rage fills her.
Rage building…
Rage…
Rage…
I reach the surface. She encourages me. We rage together.
Rage erupts.
Found
Devlin was freezing. He did not understand why he was doing this, but he was not going to question an order, certainly not from General Cassian, and most certainly not in front of the other warriors. He was sitting in a small pool under a small waterfall holding Sidra, who was nearly destroyed when they had found her. Her wings had been ripped off near the base and shredded. That was the least of the horrible things they had done to her.
They had been searching for Sidra and the Shadowsinger for nearly a week. The Shadowsinger had disappeared first, and then Sidra, along with her entire unit of Illyrians went missing also. A few days ago, General Cassian had argued with the High Lord. Devlin did not think this was appropriate, but to his surprise, the High Lord allowed General Cassian to take a small group of warriors in a new direction for no apparent reason.
The General and his unit had wandered for two days. Cassian mostly seemed to understand which approximate direction he wanted to go, but swerved back and forth across a wide swath of unfamiliar territory. The warriors were losing their patience but did not dare argue with him.
Eventually we came to a small stone fort, with about one hundred fae guarding it heavily. Somehow General Cassian knew that Sidra was here, although Devlin did not understand how. They did indeed find her in a high tower, far away from the earth. No wind. No sun. No warmth.
When we broke in, she was suspended from the ceiling in chains that reeked with magic. They held her so that she was not allowed to touch any of the cold floors or walls. She was covered in blood and torn flesh. They had been doing horrible things to her for almost a week and she was barely recognizable under the filth, blood and wounds. Cassian nearly threw up the sight of her. Devlin did not blame him, for he nearly did the same. Cassian and the other warriors immediately cleared the room of the enemy males and cut her bonds.
She had spoken to Cassian very softly. "Water."
Cassian seemed to understand that she didn't want water to actually drink, because he picked her up and flew her to this small pool and dunked her in it.
"Catch them. No killing. Keep ours out of the fort," she told Cassian in a voice so soft he could barely hear her above the water. Again, Devlin didn't understand why on earth she asked for no killing, but again Cassian seemed to understand. Cassian had ordered Devlin to remain in the pool under the waterfall with Sidra and stationed two other experienced warriors to stand guard before he flew off with the remaining warriors.
She was completely nude and Devlin was certain she would freeze to death. It was early spring and this was snowmelt so the water was barely above freezing. In fact, it probably wasn't above freezing. It had just hadn't frozen because it was moving fast. She didn't seem as cold, though. The color seemed to be coming back into her and she started to stir.
Cassian apparently called to the High Lord, who showed up with more warriors. They surrounded the castle and followed her request. They killed only who they needed to, caught who they could, and they stayed out of the castle. After thirty minutes or so Sidra softly asked Devlin to move her closer to the fort. Devlin picked her up, trying to retain some modesty for her by covering her with his wings but it was useless.
He extended his wings and flew her to the spot where she requested, which was closer to the castle but still a few hundred yards away. When he landed, she sat down roughly on the grass, staring at the castle with rage. Silent. She was only there a few moments when the earth started to vibrate, and then it began to shake more violently. Devlin had heard about this. Of course she had heard about this. Everyone had heard what she had done in the cove of northern Illyria, but how was she doing this? She could barely sit up on her own. How could she shake the earth?
The shaking got harder and more scary and more violent until eventually, the whole castle began to crumble and lava seeped up through the earth around the edges, like a moat from hell itself. Large chunks of stone exploded from the center, along with steam and the stench of sulfur. The Illyrians flew rapidly away from the fort, carrying whatever prisoners they could. A few were lucky to just barely escape the steam and rocks. If not for General Cassian's strict order to stay out of the fort, some of their own forces would surely have been injured or killed.
Next to Sidra, a small crack had opened in the soft earth and some lava had flowed out of it as well. She simply moved her foot and set it directly in the molten rock but otherwise didn't move her body or change her expression. She sat unmoving as the fort crumpled. Eventually Cassian and Rhys came back to her but they had to stand a significant distance away because of the heat.
In a weak but stronger voice than she could muster in the pool, she asked to see the prisoners. With some effort she stood, still nude, and walked to Cassian. A cloth appeared and wrapped around her. Cassian picked her up gently and flew her to a small clearing in the forest where they had rounded up fifty or so prisoners. There were about one hundred Illyrians guarding them - and Rhys, of course. Most of the prisoners were too wounded to put up any more resistance or were bound heavily with magic.
She appeared unsteady, but she could walk. As she slowly walked between the prisoners, the air was rapidly changing from chilly to bitter cold. The warm currents of air that flowed from the lava over them dissipated. She was unbothered by the chill. In fact, she seemed to be getting stronger by the moment.
She started talking in a cold, calm, low voice. "Where is my mate? What have you done with him?" They were commands for information. "Where is my mate? Where would I find him?"
One bold prisoner sneered at her and answered defiantly, "He is dead." The prisoner clearly relished breaking this awful news to her. She calmly took a few steps toward him.
"Incorrect," she said coldly. Then, quick as a flash, put her hand in his mouth, wrapped her fingers around his bottom teeth, put her thumb under his jaw, and yanked. It took Devlin a second to realize what had happened. His entire jaw had been ripped off, and she flung it in a high arc above the trees and into the woods. The injured captive made horrible gurgling noises as he fell to his knees. He couldn't even yell. His companion near him started trying to stop the gush of blood but had no idea how to do so. They had never seen such a wound before.
Devlin's whole body went cold with terror. She was weak and could barely walk, but was still strong enough to do this? Even more terrifying than her actions was the cold, dead expression in her eyes. He had only seen such an expression on her mate when he interrogated prisoners. Devlin had seen this expression several times over the past few months as the Shadowsinger had mercilessly tortured the prisoners captured at the fall invasion. Devlin finally understood what it meant that Azriel and Sidra were truly equals. She was physically strong and blunt where the Shadowsinger had finesse and creativity, but they were equally brutal. And powerful. Azriel commanded the shadows to talk to him and hide him whereas Sidra commanded the earth itself to do her bidding and give her strength.
She kept walking and speaking in the same cold voice. "Where is my mate? He is not dead. That was an incorrect answer. I need the correct answer."
Someone else was brave or stupid enough to answer with a little less challenge in his voice, "He is dead ma'am."
"Incorrect," she replied and did the same to him. Again, she flung his jaw, dripping with blood and torn flesh into the woods. She kept walking. "Who has dared to take my mate?"
One person reached up his hand towards her. She grabbed it, twisted and yanked. His hand and forearm up to the elbow were torn off. She threw it off into the woods. Then she began calmly explaining to the rest of the prisoners what she would do next.
"My mate is dying, but he is alive and he is very weak. I must get to him quickly." Another random body part was flung into the woods.
"I have sworn no oath of fealty to the High Lord. I do not often kill people and I behave as the High Lord asks only because my mate requests this of me. If my mate is dead, I have no reason to obey the High Lord." She backhanded someone in the head so hard his neck broke and hung limply from his torso as the dead body fell to the ground.
"I will be angry. I will break open the earth and lava will flow as wide and destructive as my anger." A belch of steam and molten rock was heard in the background.
"I will shake and destroy this entire kingdom. I will kill every single person in it. And then I will hunt down every person who has ever been here or knows anyone who has ever lived here." One prisoner was leaning on a friend, his leg at an odd angle at his side. Without provocation she leaned over, picked it up by the ankle, yanked off his leg at the hip and threw it into the woods. He was bleeding fast enough that he would die quickly.
"The name of this entire land will be wiped from the memories of every living fae and the land will remain barren for a century. Of course, the High Lord would never approve, but if my mate is dead, I don't care. The punishment for such crimes against the innocent would be death and I would welcome it."
She came to a male she recognized - Devlin could guess why - and calmly put her hands between his legs. He began screaming. His pants caught fire, and then so did the edge of the cloth she was wrapped in. Her entire cloth eventually caught fire and burned away, but she didn't seem to care. It was clear this wound between his legs would never heal. She then carefully poked out both of his eyes with her orange-hot finger. As he tried, screaming in pain, to push her away, she ripped off his right arm and threw it into the woods.
"Where is my mate? What have you done with him?" She continued walking and talking as if nothing had happened. She came across another she recognized, probably for the same reason, and that male suffered the same fate. Devlin was horrifyingly aware that both of the burned males would probably live, but would be permanently maimed in horrible ways. A few other prisoners died while a few would be maimed forever.
After about fifteen random body parts had been tossed into the woods, one prisoner, who was not wearing the clothes and armor of a warrior and not old enough to be more than a page, spoke, "Milady, I do not know where your mate is, but I know a place that you might look." He pissed himself in fear as he spoke.
"Where," she turned to him said with a ferocity that made Devlin shudder. The young fae shivered with fear. He could barely talk, but he told her the name of another fort that she did not recognize and described it for her.
She was standing directly in front of him, but had not touched him. "Describe how one might get there if one were to fly." Her voice was still calm and stone cold. He told her that she would need to go south and then southeast for an undetermined period of time.
"How far," she asked.
"I'm sorry milady I do not know how fast you can fly." He was shaking so hard with fear that he was about to fall over, "but there is a lone peak off to the west. Once you reach the peak, you need to turn southeast. You will be able from there to see a river that flows roughly in that direction, you should follow it. The fort is on the west bank." He described it in more detail as she asked more questions.
Once she was satisfied, she asked his name and he gave it. She said, "When we leave here, you will be in charge of these people. You will serve at my pleasure. You will do what I say. If you do not, you will answer to me. These people will obey you. If they do not, they will answer to me. If you or any of these people challenge me, they will answer to me and the High Lord of the Night Court."
"Milady, I am just an apprentice. I cannot rule my people." He did fall to his knees in terror as he said that.
"Clearly, the current leaders are making poor decisions. If any remain alive, they no longer have any rank. You have the best decision-making ability of the group. You are in charge. You will not allow anyone to tend to those that I burned. No one will speak to them or provide them comfort or shelter for the remainder of their lives." She did not wait for him to acknowledge the last order and walked out from the center of the prisoners. She was nude again because her covering had burned off, but now that it was clear she wasn't intending to set anyone else on fire, another soft blanket appeared and wrapped itself around her. She didn't acknowledge the new blanket and dropped to her hands and knees. At first Devlin thought she'd collapsed with exhaustion, but she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
She held that position for a few moments and then looked at Rhys and said his name. Rhys seemed to understand. Devlin realized she was telling Rhys in his head where they would go. After a few minutes Rhys nodded and said, "We will go." His emphasis was on the "we" who were standing next to him and not her. She refused.
"You're taking me with you." There was no argument with her tone, so Rhys sighed and gently picked her up.
General Cassian asked the page-now-leader of the group, "How many soldiers are at this new fort?"
"I don't know for certain, but my guess is about as many as you found here," he answered with as much deference as he could muster and bowed deeply to Cassian. Cassian began debating with Devlin how many warriors would be needed here and how many they could spare for the next fort.
"You will not need them," Sidra said. "She is coming with us, and She is angry. These will do." Sidra motioned to the few male warriors closest to Rhys. It included Devlin, who had no idea who was the "she" that Sidra was speaking about.
Rhys didn't question her. "All right. I will winnow us into the air close to where Sidra showed me. Are we ready?"
Rhys winnowed the eight males and Sidra into the air. Rhys carried Sidra, who was still wrapped in the soft blanket. After they caught the air and steadied themselves, the group followed Rhys as he veered slightly to the left until they saw the river. They landed on its bank, not far from where they had winnowed in. The forest was dense here and the river wasn't very wide, so it would be difficult to follow from the air. While they discussed the best way to remain in the air to travel quickly while keeping the small, winding river in sight, Sidra sat on the ground, again on her hands and knees. Again, the ground began to shake.
Cassian asked, "How do you have energy to do this?"
"I am not doing it," she replied. "She is searching for him. I am telling Her which direction to look." A crack appeared in the dirt and began traveling away from the group in roughly the same direction the river was flowing. She motioned for them to follow it. Rhys picked her up and the group flew above the trees in that general direction. Every once in a while, one of the group would swoop down to make sure we were following the crack, which was growing in the same direction as the river, but in a more direct line. Whenever someone swooped down closer to the forest, they could tell the earth was still shaking, although now it was more of a pleasant hum than the violent shaking from before.
Soon enough, they came upon a small stone fort in the location that the page described. Like the page had guessed, there were about as many soldiers here as they had found at the first fort, which was far too many for the eight males to attack by force. Rhys was afraid to mist them because he wasn't sure where the soldiers were hiding in the forest and couldn't tell which one within the fort might be Azriel. He reached with his mind to find Azriel but didn't get a reply. If Azriel was there, he was too weak to reply.
The fort began to shake softly, then violently as the first one did. Rhys said to Sidra, "I want to question them."
She replied softly, "It's out of my hands. She will only leave Azriel alive. Do not go in." The fort crumbled and lava flowed from near the center. The heat became unbearable, even at this distance. "Take me closer, please." Rhys was clearly having trouble tolerating the heat, so he made a bubble of cooler air around them and managed to take her a little closer. She sat on the ground again, and immediately the air began to cool and the lava turned to stone.
Devlin did not understand how anyone could survive being in the center of this small volcano that had appeared from the forest. When she motioned for Rhys to pick her up again, they all took to the air and flew over the ruins, which were now little more than a rough black frozen lava flow. When they approached the center, they realized that, in one section there was a small dome of rock. The dome broke loose on its own as they approached, revealing inside what very clearly used to be a room, with the Shadowsinger inside. Most of his wings were still there, though they were shredded. They had been cut repeatedly, and he had also been tortured horribly. Rhys set Sidra down and she took the two steps to him. She wrapped her arms around him, and started speaking to him in a soft, half-sobbing voice.
"You promised, you promised," she said. She sat very still and held him. Devlin suggested they go to get a healer, but she said firmly, "Not yet. Just wait." After a few minutes, she commanded Rhys. "Take us to the hot spring."
It was understood General Cassian was going with them, and Rhys spoke to Devlin. "You will not repeat to anyone where we are going. You will never try to find it again, and you will never share its location with anyone."
"Understood, High Lord," answered Devlin immediately. Rhys winnowed the four of them to a small lake. Devlin realized that the water near them was shallow and warm. A hot spring. Sidra picked up Azriel and waded into the hot water.
Healing
Rhys left Devlin and Cassian with Sidra and Azriel. The two wounded were soaking in the hot water while Cassian and Devlin stood on watch. Rhys came back to the group a few minutes later with Nadja, who waded into the water and started doing what she could with Azriel's wounds through the water. When the healer reached out to Sidra, the wounded Illyrian said, "don't touch me." It was soft and polite, but firm, so Nadja did not touch her and instead continued working on Azriel. He was extremely weak and unresponsive, but he was alive. After about an hour in the hot spring, color began coming back to his face and Sidra seemed to relax a little.
With much effort, they got Sidra and Azriel back to the cabin and into the bedroom that the pair had used when they had first solidified their mating bond. The biggest hurdle in the transport was that Sidra couldn't fly, but she did not want to let go of Azriel even for a moment. Eventually she yielded and let Cassian carry her as Rhys winnowed Azriel. In the bedroom she curled up with her mate in a manner they had clearly done before. Sidra made no noises that she was in pain, but it was clear that she was. Rhys left them intertwined with Azriel's head on her chest and her arms around him and his wings.
Rhys and Cassian stayed at the cabin for the rest of the day to make sure food and clean bandages and whatever else they may need was brought to them. They took turns checking on their wounded family in the bedroom but mostly stayed in the main room. Later in the afternoon Feyre and Mor showed up with more food, clean bandages and clean clothes for Rhys and Cassian. Feyre coaxed Rhys to the bath, who was still filthy from the days of searching. When Cassian could no longer stand the waiting, he asked Mor to take him and Devlin back to meet up with the rest of the Illyrians who had joined him on the rescue mission.
Late in the evening, Rhys came into the bedroom and offered Sidra food, which she accepted. She didn't move from her spot intertwined with Azriel, so Rhys offered her bite-sized pieces she could eat with her fingers. She moved and ate slowly. She asked Rhys very softly, "Can you give me some energy, please?"
"Of course," he replied. "How should I?"
"Just touch me anywhere. The more skin contact, the better." She closed her eyes. Rhys couldn't tell if she was too tired to open them or didn't want to watch him touch her. Probably both, he decided. He would have asked if she was sure, but he could tell she was weakening already from her earlier surge of power.
"All right," he said. He walked around the bed, crawled gently onto it, and knelt behind her. He pulled down the cover and grimaced again at the sight of her. He couldn't decide where touching her might not hurt. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, unsurew where he could touch her.
"Everything hurts," she said. "I can't even tell the difference. Don't worry about it." Hestatingly, he put both of his hands on the side of her ribs. The ribs were clearly broken and the skin was torn underneath his hands so he tried not to move his hands once they were on her skin. He exhaled with his whole body and felt energy flowing into her slowly. He sat there for half an hour. He could feel his strength pooling in her after a few minutes. She felt empty, so he shifted a bit, leaned over and put his forehead to her arm, which was also bruised and torn.
After another fifteen minutes or so she inhaled deeply. "That is enough. Thank you." When she spoke, he sat up and removed his hands. He immediately pulled the cover back up over her.
"I can do that again whenever you need. When should I plan to do it again?"
"Come back tomorrow morning."
"Really?" he asked in surprise. She hummed a confirmation. "I don't understand," he said. He knew it was too much to ask for her to explain, so it was more of a statement that he didn't understand in case he was misunderstanding or had messed something up.
Patiently, she explained. "I'm not a healer. I do not heal with magic the way Nadja does. I simply provide the energy for his body to do it. But as the flesh and bone knit back together and shift, it hurts. So, all of the pain of the wound, plus all of the pain of the healing, would happen in a few minutes. It would be unbearable. It's enough to bear only on a small wound. With this much damage…" She sighed. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she made no sound. "So, I will let it seep into him slowly so that the pain will be no worse than it is now. At least it will be bearable."
"He can bear quite a lot," Rhys said.
"That's why I asked you to come back tomorrow rather than in three or four days."
He nodded that he understood. He started to get off of his knees and hesitated. He wanted to do something else for her. After a moment he decided there was nothing more he could do, so he left and let them sleep.
Dream
Rhys returned the following morning. He brought Sidra food and water, and helped Sidra get up to relieve herself. The bruises were the same color, if not growing, and the wounds were still oozing. While he was breathing energy into her, he magicked away the blood and ooze that had accumulated and dried overnight, but the smell of blood was still there. Azriel's wounds had healed noticeably from the day before but were still oozing. Rhys magicked away what he could and changed the bedding by magic.
"All right. Are you ready for me to touch you again?"
"Yes, please," she answered softly.
Once she was again settled in the bed next to Az, Rhys crawled into the bed as before and put his hands on her ribcage, which looked the same as the previous day.
Again, he sat there with her for about a half an hour. He asked her if she needed anything else. She softly grunted that she did not. He decided to brave a new question and asked if she had gotten any sleep.
"No," she said.
"Not at all?"
"No." She could feel Rhys's unspoken question, so she elaborated. "Az is barely conscious, and his shields in his mind are down. I can't reach into his mind, but I can feel him reaching out, seeking comfort. I cannot bear to be asleep and not answer if he asks, or worse, for him to reach out and for me to be having a bad dream. I cannot let him experience any more pain or fear."
Rhys understood. He could also tell that Azriel's mind was a mess. He thought for a moment, and said carefully, "I have a suggestion, but it will require more trust of me than you have ever given another soul. All I ask is that you think about it before you reject it out of hand." She inhaled but didn't argue. "I won't argue with you, though, if you do think about it before you answer. This is for Azriel."
She sighed. "Tell me."
"Go to sleep. Lower your shields. Let me in. I will stay there while you dream." He paused and let the enormity of that suggestion weigh on her for a moment. "I will make sure that you answer if Az reaches out. If the dream starts to veer into a scary or dangerous place, I will do what I can to alter it. If I cannot get you to shift in your dream, I will wake you up."
He couldn't believe he had even gotten this far without her arguing, so he continued. "I realize this is a lot of faith. I promise never to speak of anything I see while you're dreaming. Ever. I will not dwell on it and I won't consider it to be any reflection of who you are. Your dreams are your own and we will never speak of them again."
She was quiet for a long moment. "All right," she said. Her exhaustion and concern for Azriel had won out.
The dreams were muddled and confusing as dreams often are. Sidra dreamed that she was speaking with someone. In her mind, the someone was not quite a fae, not quite an Illyrian, not quite a form, but very real and very friendly and bright and warm. The two spoke and chatted as old friends, even though it was not in a language Rhys would be able to describe to anyone. Rhys somehow understood what they were saying.
Her friend asked why Rhys was there. He is an intruder. He does not belong here.
Sidra tried to convince her. He is helping me with my mate. He loves my mate as much as I do. He is protecting my mate and me.
I don't trust him. Night cannot be trusted. Night is cunning and betrays those who trust him, the voice argued.
Rhys isn't Night.
Yes, he is.
No, he's not.
They were friendly and lively in Sidra's head. After much arguing, the friend decided Rhys could stay. They sat surrounded by some sort of warmth. It wasn't quite a hot spring, it wasn't quite lava, it wasn't quite real, but it was definitely warm and Sidra was content. She felt safe.
Every once in a while, the visions of what had happened started to creep in from the edges of her dream. When dark shapes came close, the dream-Rhys fought them. Sometimes he simply told them to go away, but other times he used magic in her dream as he would in real life to mist them or otherwise defeat them. She lay on a soft unfocused surface and seemed comfortable enough with her friend on one side and Rhys on the other. Azriel's presence flitted in and out, like an unseen butterfly testing flowers in a garden.
In her dream she was wearing the same short pants of natural color linen that she'd worn at the hot spring when she'd made the needles for Feyre. She wasn't wearing a top. Rhys had to remind himself this was her dream, and she could appear as she chose. Rhys noted with concern that her wounds were present on her dream-body and her wings were gone. He guessed that even in her dream she was feeling the pain of her injuries. He made a mental note not to move at all, for fear of hurting her. In her dream he did not touch her, although in the bed he was spooning with her back, doing his best not to jostle her wounded wing stubs.
A hint of fear and panic would sometimes rise in Sidra. When it did, he reassured her that she was safe. They're gone. They cannot hurt you here. I am here, dream-Rhys said.
Night lies, said the friend.
Night does not lie, Rhys responded, referring to himself in the third person, but yet also as Night.
Eventually, Sidra woke up, feeling somewhat refreshed and asking for food. She smelled of blood again. The wounds on her body were still oozing as much as they ever had, although Azriel, at least, seemed to be getting better. Rhys, as promised, did not say anything about the dream and started to leave the room but hesitated when he sensed she wanted to say something.
She did not look at him, but finally said, "I need another favor."
"Anything," Rhys said immediately.
"I cannot have this conversation with Az. I don't have the strength."
"What do you need?"
"I need a tonic to make sure that I'm not pregnant." She needed to explain nothing more.
Rhys understood and said, "I'll be right back." He went into the living room, and explained it to Feyre, who understood also, even though she was horrified and saddened at the possibility. She left to go get what was requested.
After Sidra ate some grapes and drank some water, they got Azriel awake enough to take a little broth. Rhys magically removed the blood and ooze from them both again. Azriel fell asleep right after eating. It had taken all of this strength to eat.
When she slept again, she allowed Rhys to follow her into dreams, which were similar as before. This time Sidra and Rhys were awakened when Feyre showed up with a small vial for Sidra to drink. Sidra said nothing as she drank it down without pausing to think. She handed the vial back to Feyre, closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms tighter around Azriel. Rhys could scent her tears.
Rhys stayed with her as she slept again. It was a different dream, but the same presence was there. They argued and spoke and chatted as old friends. The friend was angry. Sidra was reassuring her. They are all dead or punished. If we missed any, I will call you.
When she awoke, the scent of blood was stronger. She was bleeding, but from a new wound that was much more personal than any Rhys and the other warriors had seen at the fort. "Are you in pain?" he said.
"No more than before."
"No, I meant because of the tonic."
"It is actually similar to a regular cycle. I will tell myself that's what it is."
"Would you like me to get you a cloth or a towel?"
"Yes, please," she said softly. He went to the bathing room for a towel and returned to the bed. He held up to her silently. She shifted a bit. He reached down, and put it between her legs. There was a lot of blood. He wiped her clean and then realized this cloth would never do, so he went to the bathroom, left that towel, got another one, and propped it snugly between her legs.
"Thank you," she said softly. Rhys fed her more grapes and water and then crawled back to his spot behind her in the bed. She went back to sleep, pulling Rhys with her.
Rhys stayed with her through most of the third day as she slept and healed Azriel. On the third day he got up to move around more, and she did not need to sleep as much. Anytime he sensed she was tired, though, Rhys crawled into bed with them and stayed in her dreams.
By the fourth day Azriel truly began opening his eyes and moving. He shifted enough to see her wings and just said, "Oh, gods" and started to cry and held her. Rhys left them alone.
Rhys came back later and brought food for the two of them. Azriel shifted, drank a little more broth, ate a few grapes, and then went back to sleep, crying softly, and apologizing to Sidra. At one point he urinated in his sleep. Rhys removed it with magic, and then brought a wet cloth to clean them both. It's not something he would normally do, but again, he would do anything for his brothers.
By the fifth day Sidra said she felt a little stronger. She had kept Azriel from death and could now spare some of the energy she was getting from Rhys for herself. Azriel shifted and sat up for the first time, even though he was clearly in pain. Sidra would not move away from him and was giving him energy constantly through her touch. Azriel was surprisingly amenable to having Rhys curl up behind her and sleep at night. Rhys realized this was probably a common thing for them.
In the morning of the eighth day after they had reached the cabin, Cassian came back in with a grim look on his face and spoke to Rhys.
"Devlin and some of the other Illyrian lords insist on speaking with Sidra."
"No," Rhys said flatly. "She's hurt."
"You think I didn't notice?" said Cassian. "They are insisting."
"I'll speak with them," said Rhys
Return
Rhys winnowed to Illyria and walked directly to the main building where the clan leaders gathered for formal meetings. "Sidra is wounded and she is healing both herself and Azriel. She will come up here when she pleases," Rhys said to no one in particular and without preamble. One of the older and especially ornery clan leaders answered defiantly, "We would speak with her. It is urgent."
"What is so urgent that you must call her now? Is there an impending attack or something? There are other people who can take care of this," Rhys retorted sarcastically.
"We do not wish to give the message to you, High Lord. We wish to speak to Sidra," came the response from another clan leader.
"Well, I can tell her that you would like to speak to her. And I can also tell you there is no fucking way that she is leaving Azriel, and there's no fucking way he can make it up here without enduring more pain than necessary, so there is no fucking way she's coming up here. So, if you would like me to tell her what is so important, then maybe she will deign to come up here, but I make no promises."
"No," the same clan leader replied. "We do not wish you to influence her. We have a question for her. We want her to make up her own mind."
Rhys gathered every bit of the remaining patience he could possibly muster and made a concentrated effort to keep is voice steady. "I will convey the message exactly as you state it. I promise to you on my court that I will make no commentary, say anything, or make any motion or tone that influences her. I do not, however, promise that she will determine your reasoning is important enough for her to come all the way up here."
The clan leaders debated and argued among themselves. Finally, they decided their mysterious urgent problem was important enough to share with Rhys.
"We would have her as our ruler," one said.
"What?"
"We're not expanding on it. We want to discuss it with her. All of us are here now, and we will be dispersing in two days to go back to our camps in the backcountry. It must be discussed before we leave. We would very much appreciate it if you could convey this urgency to her and ask her to come."
Rhys rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide how ridiculous he found the request. "Fine," he said, and winnowed away without another word.
When he returned to the cabin, Rhys was pleased to see Azriel and Sidra out of the bedroom and stretched out on the couch in the main room. Her legs were wrapped around Azriel, who was leaning back against her. For once he looked comfortable, although he was still very stiff and not moving much. He held his own small plate of food and was eating gingerly.
"The Illyrian clan leaders would like to speak to you," Rhys said to Sidra.
"No," she said flatly without looking at him.
"This is really important to them."
"Fine. I'll be there in a month or so," she replied in the same tone.
"They would like to speak to you today," Rhys said with some exasperation. She finally pulled her face out of Azriel's neck and looked at Rhys.
Rhys continued, "I promised them on my court I would tell you what it is they wish to speak to you about without making any commentary as to its contents. I must tell you. You will listen. Then you make your own decision if you will come or not."
"All right. I'm not going," she said to Rhys in the same flat tone. It amused the hell out of Rhys, but at the same time he was completely beyond the limit of his patience.
"They would like you to be their ruler. They would like to discuss it with you, while all of the clan leaders are at Windhaven and before they leave in two days to go back to their camps to start spring training and preparations."
She was dumb-founded. "What?"
"You heard me," he said, amused at her expression. "I'm not allowed to elaborate."
"That is interesting, but I'm not leaving my mate."
"I'll go with you." It was the first full sentence he had heard from Az in days - no - weeks. Rhys felt a warm rush of pleasure at hearing the voice again, even as he was filled with dread at the words.
"You can't go," Sidra said, thankfully, before Rhys could assert the same thing.
"I didn't say it would be comfortable, but I can go. They want to speak to you. This is important. I will go." Azriel's voice was weak but firm as he leaned his head back onto Sidra to speak while looking at Rhys. Azriel knew Rhys's stance on the matter, so Rhys didn't bother to state how much he was against this. If Azriel could convince Sidra, then it wasn't up to Rhys.
"We'll let you two discuss it." Rhys motioned for the gape-mouth Feyre and Cassian to follow Rhys out the door and leave them alone.
Apparently, it was decided that they would go to Illyria.
Rhys winnowed all of them to Illyria mid-afternoon that same day. The clan leaders greeted her with more reverence than Rhys usually received, which annoyed him even more. Although scowling and at times audibly growling, Rhys helped Azriel and Sidra go into the main hall where she was offered a chair at the head of the table.
Azriel was not offered a chair next to her. Although Rhys would have preferred to try out some of Sidra's tactics in scaring the hell out of people, he wordlessly plopped a soft chair right next to Sidra. Sidra acknowledged him with a look of genuine gratitude and - affection?
My how times have changed. Rhys thought as Sidra helped Azriel into his chair and then sat at the head of the table. She slid her arm under his and interlaced their fingers as Azriel sat back and closed his eyes. The movement had taken all of his strength. She was clearly replenishing it.
Rhys plopped another chair next to Sidra at the end of the table. It was slightly grander and a bit taller than all of the others that were already present. Cassian sat at the far end of the table.
Rhys reached out to Sidra, who readily opened her mind to him and spoke first.
I'm not looking forward to this conversation any more than you are, but do me a favor and don't speak.
He growled a response but didn't answer, either in her head or aloud.
The oldest clan leader, Heikki, sat closest to Sidra and Azriel. Rhys was pretty sure he had never spoken without disgust or condescension to Rhys or his adopted brothers, but he was the most well-respected elder in all of Illyria. Heikki opened the meeting by speaking only to Sidra.
"We know, Sidra, that your mate is wounded and it was difficult for you to attend, but we feel this is important enough to warrant the trip."
Rhys noted with annoyance that he didn't thank Rhys for relaying the message, nor Sidra or Azriel for coming.
"As you probably know," Heikki began, knowing full well that she didn't know what he was about to say, "the Illyrian people were once part of the Court of Mother Earth and therefore were ruled by a High Lady of Earth. When that line of rulers died long ago, the Illyrians became part of the Night Court."
Rhys did not at all like where this was going. He had expected they were going to bestow some type of honorary military title on her for her efforts last fall in the cove, but this did not appear to be the case. Sidra's face and mind showed no reaction.
"We believe your magic is the incarnation of Mother herself, and that you have been chosen as her heir. Your actions at the cove last fall were a very strong indication to those of us who study the lore, and your actions last week convinced us that Mother has chosen you as High Lady of the Earth Court, which is to say, High Lady of Illyria." Cassian gasped. Azriel's eyes flew open. Sidra furrowed her brows as if she were expecting some sort of trick.
Sidra could not believe what she was hearing and said as much. "Since I can remember, Illyria has treated females as second-class. Why should I believe for a moment that you would submit to the rule of a female?"
Excellent question, Rhys said into her head.
Fuck off. I don't need your pandering, she said curtly. Rhys glared at her. She returned the glare, but then blinked. You want to help? she said in a milder voice, help me to figure out what is really going on here. There is no fucking way they just decided to worship a female. Rhys inclined his head toward her slightly in reply.
"We are a religious people," said another clan leader who was wearing the robes of a priest. Sidra vaguely remembered his name to be Jakki or Jakke or Jackass. "And we respect the wishes from the gods. We accepted the current High Lord because he was clearly chosen as the heir, as we accepted his father. Those same traits that presented Rhysand as the heir, we now see in you."
So, they are trying to get rid of me, Rhys said to her.
Why?
I'm a half-breed. And I keep insisting on shit they don't want - like training females and outlawing wing-clipping.
I'm a bastard. And a female. How could that possibly be better?
You're a pure-bred Illyrian bastard. And powerful enough to bring down a mountain on an invading army.
Such as an army from the Night Court?
Possibly.
Are you worried about such a possibility?
Not at the moment. Such a situation would come down to the loyalty of the General and the high-ranking officers.
So, you'd consider accepting this because you are comfortable Cassian will choose you over me?
To some extent, but I'm also fairly comfortable that you wouldn't want to put your brother, or your mate, in a situation where they would have to choose between us. For the record, I don't ever want to do that either.
By now Rhys and Sidra were staring at each other, obviously locked in an internal conversation. The clan leaders were getting restless.
"I admit my abilities are rare, but so are my mate's. Why aren't you asking him to rule you?" Sidra asked the group. She brushed Azriel's hand with her thumb.
"The regent of Earth must be a female, to honor the Earth Mother," said another leader. This one sported earrings, which was unusual for Illyrian males. Sidra had no idea what his name was.
Lovi. Rhys answered the question bubbling in her head. Not the smartest one in the room, but he's fairly young and progressive. He can be a decent ally.
"And shadows are a trait of Night," chimed another whose expression suggested he'd been constipated for a decade.
Okko. He definitely has something stuck up his ass. Rhys said helpfully into her head.
"How much power do you intend this ruler to have?" Sidra asked.
"Equal powers as any High Lord," replied Heikki magnanimously.
"Command over the army?" she asked.
"Over an Illyrian army, yes," replied Heikki again.
They are betting Cassian will choose his bastard half-sister over me. Rhys said with an internal growl.
"And the relationship with the Night Court?" she asked.
"To be forged as any diplomatic relationship between the Night Court and equals." This time it was Lovi who replied. She studied him for a moment and got the impression that this answer was Lovi's idea.
So, we can come to an arrangement between us. Between our courts, Rhys said into her head.
You would accept this?
I can't disagree with their logic. My mother told me the legends of High Ladies of Earth, and the glorious return of them. Your powers certainly rank with those of a High Lord.
This is why you've been nervous to have me in your court all along, isn't it?
Since the earthquake in Adriata, yes.
Do Cass and Az know this?
No.
You are a cunning liar, just like She said.
I never lied. I just never told you.
Fuck you.
If you have energy remaining after Az and Matt, I'll try to figure out an arrangement with Feyre.
I will slap the shit out of you for that when we get back to the cabin. Rhys smiled at her. She considered slapping him in front of the group, then realized that it would actually help her cause, so she leaned over and slapped him.
Anger exploded into her down the bond and Cassian growled from the other end of the table. Az picked his head off the back of the chair and gave her a warning glare. Several of the clan leaders around the table smirked, smiled, or laughed outright.
Relax. If they think we are at odds they'll give me more power to negotiate, and it'll calm the naysayers in the group. Look at them. I just converted at least two.
Rhys continued glaring at her and let out a thrum of power. The earth vibrated in response.
Do not do that again. Ever, Rhys said menacingly in her head.
Not unless you come to an arrangement with Feyre, she retorted sweetly. Rhys actually barked a laugh in her head but managed to maintain his menacing stare for the group.
"I accept the title, in principle," she said to the group. Cassian gasped and Azriel streamed alarm and fear down the bond while Rhys maintained his angry exterior. Many clan leaders smiled and made exclamations with relief. Lovi actually clasped his hands as if he considered clapping. Four others, however, were decidedly unhappy with her statement.
Lunch was served and they began discussing the details of the new court. A few clan members suggested Rhys should leave, but Sidra magnanimously asked him to stay. Over lunch they agreed there would be a transition period, and her rule would begin in two years.
This tiny agreement was exhausting and Sidra was ready to go home. She was about to suggest as much when Azriel doubled over and grunted in pain. At first Sidra thought he was hurt, but then recognized what was happening.
"Really? Now? This can't wait?" she asked aloud to no one in particular. No answer came. Mother was trying to talk to her mate. "All right Az. Remember how I described connecting with Mother when I was young?" He nodded between grunts. "I think she's trying to reach you."
"Huh?" he asked with a grunt. He looked in her eyes and realized what she had meant. "What am I supposed to do?" He was afraid.
"I'll help. She won't harm you, although she doesn't really understand pain. So, this may not feel good," she said as she got out of her chair and kicked it aside.
"Rhys, get rid of the floorboards. It'll be easier if he can touch the ground directly." The floorboards at their end of the room disappeared. Sidra held onto Azriel as they dropped a few inches to the cold stone below. Sidra kept her arms around him and helped him to sit on the ground.
"Right, now please remove his boots and socks." They disappeared. "Actually, take his coat and shirt, too. It's going to get hot in here." Azriel was now bare to the waist. Several clan leaders gasped at the extensive wounds still visible on his chest and back.
"Az darling. Imagine reaching through the ground with your shadows. Exhale and reach." Azriel grunted. "Good. Again." She sat beside him, with one arm around his back and the other gripping his hand tightly. They continued like this while some of the males in the room left and others rearranged the furniture so they could sit and watch. Cassian and Rhys weren't sure how they could help, so they stayed close by, ready to do anything they were asked.
Azriel was exhausted after about twenty minutes of this, but let out a high sigh of relief when he made a connection with Mother. Sidra felt a stream of joy and couldn't help but giggle like an adolescent.
"Sorry, darling. She's really happy to meet you," Sidra said to him as he collapsed, shivering, into her arms. "You're not done though." He groaned. "Now you have to pull. Same idea. Imagine your shadows are caught on something and pull. I think I can help with this. I'll try."
He took a deep breath and concentrated. Sidra discovered she could help. She guided them both, and Mother rose to the surface as easily as if She were responding to Sidra herself.
"Back up!" she warned Rhys and Cass a few seconds before steam erupted from a small crack below Azriel's feet. Inky black shadows flowed out of the crack and a moment later the distinctive orange glow of lava could be seen beneath the shadows.
"I guess shadows are an Earth trait after all, huh darling?" Sidra giggled and hugged him. He was smiling with relief now and the joy streaming from Mother. No one else could get near them, but the steam and lava didn't bother Azriel. He realized the people closest to him were uncomfortably hot, and tentatively put his hand directly into the steam. It wrapped around his scarred hands as if it were one of his shadows. He smiled uncertainly at Sidra.
"What does this mean?" he asked her.
"I think it means she's chosen you to be High Lord of the Earth Court, with your High Lady," she said.