A Court of Shadows and Starlight (Azriel+OC)

by misstonii

Summary:

Lilah Vega of Dawn Court has been believed dead for over 500 years, mourned heavily by the High Lord of Night Court to whom she grew up with. Except, she was never killed...but kept in the dungeons of the Autumn Court after being sold by Tamlin's father to Beron Vanserra. When Lilah breaks free one night, and stumbles back to the Night Court, Lilah finds that she doesn't know how to live anymore until someone takes the time and patience to help as she heals old wounds.

Chapter 1: Prologue: The Fallen Star

Summary:

Azriel has kept a secret for over 500 years, still visiting the grave of a long, lost soul, the childhood friend of his High Lord. However, Azriel does not believe that she is dead and soon finds that his suspicions may just be right.

The skies were as dark as the day she died.

     The High Lord of the Night Court stood upon the lime grass hill behind the Town House, a circle of bluebells gathered around the marble headstone.

 

LILAH VEGA - THE MORNING STAR

died defending her High Lady and Princess.

 

     Shadows swarmed around the grave, enough of an alert that his Shadowsinger was nearing him. Azriel always gave him that respect of knowing that he wasn't alone, that his cries did not go unheard. Cassian would occasionally drop a red carnation at Lilah's grave whenever he made the rounds to his mother and little sister's grave. Cassian had only ever met Lilah once, but it was enough for him to drop a flower by her grave every now and then.

     For Azriel, it must've been hard for him. He'd never met the girl. He'd seen her around Velaris but they'd never once spoken. They were both as shy as each other. Still, Azriel would join him whenever he asked for company.

     "I never asked," Azriel's voice was deeper when he spoke softly. "Why do they call her the Morning Star?"

     Rhysand felt a smile tug on his lips as he remembered her light, a tear slipping down his chin. "She was an orphan from Cretea, one of the Seraphim but her mother was of Dawn Court so Lilah traveled to Prythian in hopes of learning of her lineage." Rhysand frowned, clasping his hands behind his back. "I don't know the details, only that she told me that what she found wasn't exactly what she'd hoped to hear. She was upset with what she'd learned and fled north until she landed in Night Court amidst Starfall. That's when I met her. She was crying, right here on this hill, watching the stars fall. She'd lifted her palm and cast a tiny star of her own and let it fly with the rest." Rhysand looked to Azriel, watching as his Shadowsinger's gaze was fixed on the grave before him. "Every morning, she'd come to this hill and cast a star into the dawning sky."

     Azriel was silent for a while before he drew a breath. "A beautiful soul."

     Rhysand put a hand on his brother's shoulder, a gesture he used when he planned to part ways. He'd mourned his five minutes that he'd promised himself. Five minutes -- no more, no less. He made it to the base of the hill, sending a thought down the bond to his mate, when he realised that Azriel still remained upon the hill.

     He only stayed long enough to watch as his Shadowsinger crouched before the grave and began to hum a sorrowful lament.

 

☪

 

Azriel's finger gently grazed over the bluebells, his cobalt siphons bleeding light over the Seraphim's grave. Her tale was sad, much like the tale of his own life. He'd never told Rhysand the truth as to why he joined him upon the hill, yet stayed much longer after.

     The first time he'd ever come here, he plucked a fallen leaf from the headstone and he'd felt it...the charge, the power from the stone itself. At first, he thought nothing of it but every time he touched the stone where her name was embedded, he felt it, like a chord being struck in his heart.

     He knew why, of course. Cauldron, he'd known from the minute he'd laid eyes on the girl. His shadows swarmed her grave, flooding the hill as if they were responding to her ethereal ghost.

     But she was not buried here, Azriel reminded himself.

     They never did find her body.

     Tamlin's father had returned the heads of Rhys' mother and sister but Lilah...she was still an enigma.

     "Hey, Lilah." Azriel began, praying his shadows would inform him if anyone was nearby to overhear--especially Cass. "You don't know me, so I thought I'd tell you about myself. You know, like a lost soul making a wish to a shooting star. You being the morning star, and all." He sniggered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief that he was talking to a grave. "I know what it's like to be the outsider within you're own family and sometimes I wonder what it is that you learnt in Dawn."

     Azriel swallowed, lifting his gaze to the sun struggling to break between the charcoal clouds. His shadows curled around his ear, 'you're looking in the wrong place.'

     Azriel furrowed his brow. He wasn't looking for anything, but still his shadows hissed those same words again and again.

     He ignored them.

     "Rhys blames himself for your death." He continued, as if the bluebells were listening in her stead. "Sometimes I blame myself too. That I never got to know you. I never even said hello let alone goodbye--though i don't believe I deserved a goodbye." Azriel rocked on his feet, rubbing his eyes with his thumbs. "I stayed away because I knew you were my mate. I stayed away because I was a coward and now I'm paying the price. The least I can do for you Lilah, is honour you."

     'Wrong place.' His shadows hissed again.

     "Lilah." Azriel sniffled. "They say to lose your mate is to drive you mad. What if I'm wrong?"

    'Wrong question.'

     Wrong question?

     Azriel stood up straight and ground his teeth. "Where are you Lilah? I just want to bring you back home, where you belong."

     His shadows hissed a laugh, then gave one word that would haunt him for nights to come.

     'Autumn.'

    

Chapter 2: The Wingless Bird

Summary:

Lilah Vega has been a captive in the dungeons of the Forest House for 500 years but tonight, with the help of a familiar red-head, Lilah is freed.

Notes:

Lilah's POV

There was only darkness and solitude for the last five hundred years of Lilah’s life. She scarcely remembered the warm days of Dawn nor the breezy eves of Cretea. She barely even remembered the Night Court after a while, though the memory of her High Lady and Princess’ death never departed her mind.

     Rhysand. She remembered Rhysand.

     How he must hate her for not protecting his family the way she’d sworn.

     She had failed him. Had failed her oath.

     The iron shackles around her wrist burned like ice. She was weak, her power as drained as she.

     Beron refused to let her go. He refused on the premise that unless she married one of his sons, she’d remain his prisoner until the day she died.

     Lilah had been stubborn for five hundred years and she’d continue to be so for five hundred more.

     The iron door swung open, armed guards pacing forward with their High Lord right behind them. Lilah cowered in the corner, shielding herself with her lambent, white wings. She had to be strong like her father…the father to whom she’d inherited his Seraphim wings. He fought valiantly with his aerial legion in the Continent. He’d died just as valiantly too.

     It was the story she’d grown up on. The only knowledge of him at all.

     She was her father’s daughter. She had to be…otherwise, she was no one at all.

     “Open the gate.” Beron ordered one of his guards, the metal clinking as they obeyed.

     Still, Lilah refused to look up. Perhaps she wasn’t as brave as her father after all, because all she felt was fear. It was all she’d ever felt in truth.

     “Hello, dearest Lilah.” The High Lord of Autumn coaxed, crouching before her. Lilah shifted her wing slightly, her turquoise eyes meeting those blazing, caramel set before her. He mocked her with a smile, “Today you will choose a son of mine. If not…then I have no use for you. A slave trader from Montesere has taken an interest in buying you. They’re your choices, Lilah Vega. Marry one of my sons and live lavishly in my Court under my protection, or live the rest of your life a worthless slave in a foreign land across the sea, never to marry and bear children, never to see the world and live, but to bow to a master who cares nothing for your life. Choose where you wish the band to stay, my dear. On your finger? Or cuffed around your neck?”

     “Either way I am a slave.” Lilah spat at his shoes, watching as his cheeks turned red with fury.

     “I’ve tried to give you a life of splendor but you spit on me instead?” Beron’s voice raised with every word. His fingers grasped around her arms, digging into the skin where bruises would easily attain. The High Lord dragged her out of the cell, ignoring the screams that Lilah bellowed.

     “Let me go!” Lilah shrieked, kicking with every step yet nothing would dismay the male who dragged her into the throne room.

     Her body was thrown forward onto the cold stone, amidst the mural of a three-pronged leaf. In a fit of sobs, Lilah raised her head, spying four males standing ceremoniously before her. Eris—it was the only one she’d known the name of—stood in the middle, the other three spread around the room with their hands behind their back.

     “You will pick a son.” Beron announced and a swift, humid breeze gushed through the room. Even the maids bowed their heads slightly in fear. “The one you pick shall be named my heir, Lilah. I’m giving you more than you deserve, foolish child.”

     Lilah felt exactly like a foolish child as she sobbed before them all. She wished Tamlin’s father had killed her with the rest of them—but even he’d claimed that her death would mean nothing to his power. That she was nobody—nothing.

     “Pick one!” Beron shouted, his boot meeting her side in a heavy kick.

      Lilah gasped a cough, choking on the tears that flowed harder still. “Please!” She begged. “Please just let me go. I’m nothing of importance to you.”

     “Foolish child.” Beron paced away and in his stead two guards held her down.

     Lilah drew too much of a breath, her body quivering in fear. All she heard was Beron’s curt command to ‘keep her down’ before she realized what was happening.

     At the first tear of the wing from the joint of her back, Lilah’s scream near tore at her larynx. At the second rip, she believed her head would explode in pain. There was fire, a misery, and dark decay as she screamed. Like death and the void all at the same time.

     “Father.” Eris took a step forward but his father only pushed him back with the ring of fire that rose around them as he raised his hand in command.

     Beron lowered himself so that his lips neared her ear. “Choose.”

     All that Lilah felt was pain. Such pain that she almost felt numb. She couldn’t think and all that she could say was, “Please.”

     Her response gave Beron the strength to tear the wing free from her back, the blood seeping down her sides as fast as the tears fell from her eyes. Lilah sobbed and sobbed, Beron’s hand moving to the left wing.

     Everything felt the same. There was pain when he stopped and pain when he started again. Lilah had been screaming for last twenty minutes, her throat dry and raw, her head pounding in agony. There she lay on the stone leaf, blood pooling around her lithe body with her torn wings tossed on either side like rubbish. She heard the laughter of the guards, the sniggers of the brothers. Her eyes were on Eris, who clenched his jaw as he watched her.

     “Get her out of my sight.” Beron slurred, holding high her wings in triumph. “Eris, take her away. Do what you like even if it means to kill her. I shall place these wings on my throne as a reminder of the girl who thought she was strong enough to spit on me. A reminder of what happens to those who cross the High Lord of Autumn.”

     Lilah could barely move. She didn’t even try to, as Eris neared her, tugging her arm before pulling it around his neck. It was a combination of roughness and sincerity as Eris dragged her out of the Forest House and into the orange and brown woods surrounding.

     She exchanged no words to the male as he continued to stalk his way through the woods, her feet dragging alongside him, though he occasionally tried to lift her enough in effort not to hurt her. It wasn’t until they’d been walking a good ten minutes and he’d helped her sit on the nearest log that she murmured, “Please, just kill me. Kill me first.”

     Eris breathed heavily, crouching before her. “Lilah, I’m not going to kill you.”

     Lilah inhaled a shuddering sob. “Please, I beg you.”

     “I brought you here to make a deal and that is it.” Eris said flatly. “My father plans to make whoever marries you the heir to the Court. Just marry me, Lilah. Marry me and I’ll never hurt you the way my father does. Marry me and we can make this Court better.”

     Lilah shook her head. “You’d say anything to get the throne.”

     Eris drew an uneven breath, Lilah taking note of how short his patience seemed to run. “Just say yes, Lilah. Say yes and I’ll divert the guards who are no doubt by now searching the woods for us. You can live elsewhere and remain my bride until my father dies. This is the best option for you. I’m giving you a chance at life which is far more than anyone else will give you.”

     Lilah went to object again, but indeed, she heard the guards calling for Eris. Eris pulled her to her feet, guiding her close to the edge of the border. By the rim, he pulled her back to him, his jaw taut. “Just say it! Say yes and get your freedom, Mother damn it.”

     Lilah swallowed. “You’ll let me live anywhere?”

     Eris nodded.

     “And I don’t have to see your father again?”

     He nodded again.

     “Okay.” Lilah answered, nervously. “Since death isn’t an option…”

     Eris only smirked, tugging the necklace around his neck and placing it around her head. There was a golden ring attached, stoned with a fire opal. “Now run.”

     Running was the biggest hurdle yet. Lilah could only make a couple steps at a time, catching her breath behind the nearest tree before starting back up again. In the distance she could hear Eris’ voice.

     “The little bitch winnowed.”

     “Which way do you think she went?”

     “She can’t winnow far. She’s probably heading to Winter.”

     Lilah knew she couldn’t stop. Now not…perhaps not ever. They’d figure out soon enough that Eris lied—that the iron shackles were still on her wrists preventing her from winnowing. She didn’t even think she had the strength to concentrate on winnowing. She hadn’t winnowed in centuries.

     Yet, worst of all, Lilah realized exactly where she now stood.

     The Middle of Prythian was the most dangerous territory…and her blood had already caught somethings attention.

Chapter 3: The Stir of Shadows

Summary:

Rhysand summons a meeting with the Inner Circle with news of Beron's outrage concerning a mysterious escaped prisoner. Azriel is sent on mission with Cassian to see what they can find.

Notes:

Azriel's POV

Azriel watched the dawn rise, his elbows resting on the marble railing of his balcony. His eyes navigated the last star of the night--the Morning Star--as Rhys deemed it.

     His shadows hadn't let him rest since he stood upon that hill before his mate's grave. She had to be alive...she had to be, or else he would've gone mad in grief. Well, at least he should have. He'd theorised that he was mistaken. That Lilah could perhaps have not been his mate, but he'd felt it, like nothing he'd ever felt before. He'd felt it that day in Velaris, the day she was feeding the swans with Rhys' sister, Asteria.

     He remembered that day all too well. He'd always remember that day, of how she looked in the white, silken dress, golden hair bound with reeds and tiny bluebells. She would have thrived in the Spring Court if events had turned out differently, for Lilah appeared like sunshine--like starlight. She was pure like light...and that was why he'd stayed away.

     He was just a miserable, Illyrian bastard. He had nothing to offer her. No title. No shred of happiness. Cauldron, Az didn't even believe he could love, let alone deserve to be loved back. Yet still, she'd looked at him as she knelt by that shimmering lake and he'd felt the mate bond snap into place.

     The War broke no later than two days past...and he lost her. He'd lost the one shred of light and hope he could've had if only he'd dared to seek it.

     She owed him nothing, but he...he owed her the entire world.

     Cassian broke his thoughts with a screeching yawn, the damned bastard near making him jump.

     "Is this the first time you've actually seen the sun rise?" Azriel sniggered, pacing back into the living room of their apartment. He threw a shirt at him, and Cass tugged it over his head before Azriel could say another word.

     "Rhys woke me..." Cassian yawned. "Mentally, of course. Cauldron knows I'd beat his ass if he woke me up this early in person without breakfast in bed!"

     Az shook his head with a low laugh. "Good to see you haven't matured yet, you big baby." Cassian threw a pillow at him, though the Shadowsinger masterfully sidestepped out of its way. He sniggered once more, "If we don't hurry, Rhys will let Nesta rip us new ones."

     Cassian's face blanched. It was enough of a threat that had the General pacing through the door, following in step beside Azriel as they made their way downstairs. Seated already was Rhysand, his head in his palms as he read a letter. Feyre sat silently by his side, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. Further down sat Amren, eyes gleaming in the dim light, and Morrigan who merely rolled her eyes at Cassian's loud and obnoxious, 'good morning sunshine!"

     Azriel took a seat in between Rhys and Amren, Cassian slinking in beside Morrigan, his hand already reaching for muffin from the central tray.

     "There is news from Kallias from Winter Court." Rhysand began, speaking slowly as if calculating his words. "Beron has run amuck in his Court. He's on a rampage over a prized possession whose escaped."

     Amren scoffed. "Prized possession? The brute doesn't even prize his own sons."

     It was Morrigan who cut in next. "His prized possessions are usually stolen maids for his sons. Women with power that would benefit him."

     Azriel merely stiffened.

     Autumn, his shadows had said.

     "What else do you know?" Azriel asked, keeping his face cold and indifferent.

     Rhys shrugged. "The Winter Court sentries didn't see anyone pass their borders which means the prized possession either escaped through Spring, or north, through the Middle lands."

     Cassian whistled. "They're likely already dead if they fled north."

     "Dawn has responded to Beron's call, sending an aerial legion to fly over and take a look." Rhysand continued, taking a breath. "They claim to have not found anyone yet."

     "And Tamlin?" Feyre asked, her voice too soft in the morning.

     Rhysand gave her a small smile. "He claims that no one has entered his Court without him knowing."

     Azriel furrowed his brow. There was a long silence before he said, "I'll go. I'll fly over the Middle and if there's nothing, I'll head to Dawn and talk with Thesan. Somebody must've seen something."

     Rhys was quiet for a long while, no doubt attempting again and again to get past the block on Azriel's mind. At last, their High Lord clicked his tongue and stood from his chair. "Cassian will go with you. Fly, but don't land unless necessary in the Middle lands."

 

➵

 

It didn't take long for Cassian and Azriel to fly to the Middle Lands, the pair occasionally battling it out. Race you to that tree. Race you to that hill.

     Cassian hadn't stopped talking the entire trip. And the closer they got, it seemed the more he talked. "What sort of prized possession do you think Beron's lost? We don't even know if they're male or female. They may not even be Fae for the matter."

     Azriel remained silent, listening to his shadows who'd scattered around the Middle. They came hurling back at him, hitting him in the gut that he'd almost went hurtling down backwards.

     "Az?" Cassian called over the wind, circling back to him.

     Azriel swallowed, stewing on the thoughts of his shadows. Here. Here. Here. Here.

     "They're here." He said darkly, eyes meeting Cassian who looked as though he was in shock.

Chapter 4: Forgotten Memories

Summary:

Lilah is lost in the Middle lands of Prythian when she is met with two winged Illyrians who claim they can take her home.

Notes:

Lilah's POV

The woods were dark, the sun shining its last ember of light.

     The Middle was not the place to be at the best of times but right now, as the sun was beginning to set and the iron shackles subdued every ounce of power and strength she had, Lilah saw no light at the end of the tunnel.

     Perhaps this was her freedom—death.

     “No.” Lilah bitterly spat out to the rustling trees. “Not yet.”

     She would not die now. Not after everything she’d endured. If she were to die…there’d be meaning. There’d be purpose. Not now…forgotten and alone. Not here…where her corpse would be eaten by whatever hellish creatures dwelt amidst the forsaken Middle Lands.

     Lilah kept her eye on the snow-capped mountain, the centre of Prythian itself. She had to keep the mountain behind her, never in front. She had to make it to Dawn. To Thesan.

     Oh Mother…was he still alive? Would he even remember her? His childhood best friend…had she become nothing but another sad, forgotten memory?

     Lilah tripped over her own foot, landing hard on her knees amidst the frost-flecked soil. Her breaths were rapid and hard, her chest tightening with every inhale.

     She wasn’t going to make it.

     Her wounds were too much, the blood leaving a dark trail behind her. Her vision had already begun blurring and dotting, and the cold…she was so cold.

     “I just need to rest.” She whispered to herself, her back spiking in pain as the chilling breeze ran over her. Lilah let her forehead touch the ground, sobbing as she rocked her body slowly.

     She was Cauldron Cursed…she had to be.

     Lilah sobbed and screamed at the top of her lungs, that haunted, hoarse voice echoing through the woods like a menacing demon. “What did I do to deserve this?”

     Something snapped in the distance, a twig, perhaps, and Lilah raised her gaze as fast as she could. Dark red eyes gleaming in the night were fixed on hers, a devious growl rumbling in the wind.

     Lilah slowly got to her feet, stepping back carefully as the hound of shadow and hate and rot prowled toward her, its forked tongue running over black, cracked teeth.

     “Mother’s sake, give me a break!” Lilah muttered under her breath, raising her hands in surrender as she continued to back away.

     The creature emerged from the tree line, a second appearing by her left. Lilah’s chest heaved in panic, watching as a third naga-hound prowled out from the shadows of the trees to her right. One, she could barely handle but three…Lilah stood no chance. Not unless she could free herself of these wretched shackles.

      Her wings…what she would give to have her wings back.

     A sob broke from her, Lilah’s brow creasing as she shuddered in grief…in fear and pain and everything she didn’t deserve.

     ‘Freedom,’ she whispered to herself, kneeling before the naga-hounds that slowly stalked forward. ‘Freedom at last.’

     Something heavy slammed into the earth to her right, a gleam of red light flaring before her as she flung open her eyes. Illyrian…leather wings wide behind him, dark hair waving down to his shoulders. The first beast shrieked as his red siphons seared right through it.

     The second naga-hound fled with a yelping screech but the third…

     A flare of blue light shone to her left, another winged male landing silently beside her. His shadows bound the creature to the ground, blood spraying from its mouth as a blade slit its throat. Lilah backed away, watching as the Illyrian met her gaze, twirling a dagger in his golden-tanned hand.

     “Lilah?”

     She returned her gaze back to the red-stoned male, furrowing her brow as she examined him. He had a rough beauty to him, all rugged muscles and rich golden brown skin. His eyes bore into hers, twin blades in his hands. Her voice was breathless, “How do you know my name?”

     He tilted his head slightly. “I’m Cassian from the Night Court. Rhys’ friend, do you remember? You taught me how to braid hair.”

     Lilah drew a heavy breath. No…she didn’t remember. She didn’t remember anything apart from the day the High Lady was beheaded with her daughter—how they screamed as they tore their wings.

     A hand grazed her arm and she near stumbled back, pushing at the Illyrian to her left who’d managed to close in on her without a single noise. He let go of her instantly, his eyes wide, mouth parted.

     “I’m not going to hurt you. We’re not…” He swallowed, eyes darting to her back where her wing used to be. His golden eyes returned to hers, “You’re bleeding.”

     He went to take another step toward her but Lilah’s panic rose again. “Stay back. Both of you, just…just go away.”

     “Woah. Woah!” Cassian raised his hands. “Lilah, we’re here to help you. Rhys sent us, do you remember him? Rhysand, High Lord of Night Court?”

     Lilah blinked. High Lord…Rhysand was now High Lord.

     The world spun, Lilah sticking out a hand to the nearest tree only to miss it. Strong hands gripped her forearms, lowering her to her knees. “What did they do to you, Lilah?”

     “Az, her back.” Cassian’s voice went taut. “We need to get her to Madja.”

     Lilah felt herself slumping into the male’s side. Az, the other had called him. A dream…this was all a dream. She hadn’t escaped the dungeons really. Eris must’ve bewitched her into believing she’d escaped…just a rouse to coerce her into saying yes to marriage.

     Her eyes fluttered, beginning to close when she felt Az’s palm touch her cheek, his voice determined. “Lilah, stay awake. You have to stay awake.”

     Lilah’s body rocked in the Illyrian’s embrace. Her voice was just a whisper, “I’m sorry Rhys.”

     She felt the Illyrian shift slightly, but it was the other one who said, “Dawn. We need to go to Thesan for help.”

     Lilah was struggling to keep her eyes open, soon closing them a second later. She felt the male’s hand grip the back of her neck, the only place he could possibly hold her without bringing her pain from the gashes down her back. He swept her up into his arms, cradling her shivering body, gently to his chest.

     She opened her eyes, enough to see shadows swallow them whole. Either death had come to her in the formed of this winged male, or…pink skies. Lilah forced her eyes open more, spying the golden clouds float amidst a lavender and rose sky.

     Dawn. She was back in the Court of Dawn.

Chapter 5: An Old Friend of Dawn

Summary:

Azriel and Cassian take Lilah to Dawn and are met before Thesan. Azriel overhears a conversation between Lilah and Thesan and when he confronts her about it, Azriel finds that Lilah may be much more difficult to crack than he’d initially thought.

Notes:

Azriel's POV

Azriel refused to let go of her.

     He'd felt it again--the mating bond. Stronger, much stronger this time, like a punch to his gut. His shadows had stilled, now seemingly at peace after many restless nights.

     Azriel landed in the shining courtyard of Dawn’s Palace, Cassian winnowing no more than a split second later. The pink skies burned into twilight, the sweeping mists of night breezing over the gilded palace. Their dawn’s were supposed to be as spectacular as nightfall in Velaris, but right now even the burning sunset made Dawn Court appear beautifully tranquil.

     A row of guards appeared from the ringed terrace, bows and arrows aimed straight toward them. Cassian threw up his hands, shifting the weight on his feet like an uneasy wild animal as he called out, “We seek the help of your High Lord, Thesan, with great urgency.”

     Azriel raised his brows at his brother, knowing full well they’d laugh at those exact words some time later. ‘You sounded like some spoilt rich High Fae, Cass.’

     Thesan appeared almost instantly, his hands leaning on the golden railing in between his armed sentries. There he stood, brown skin glowing brilliantly like his soul was made of the morning sun itself. He wore a royal blue tunic with gilded trimmings which made his brown, upswept eyes appear most lively…

     Thesan’s eyes widened as they beheld the lithe girl in Azriel’s arms and the male pushed away from the balcony railing, sweeping down the gold-flecked marble steps like wind. Azriel instinctively tilted Lilah’s body closer to him, as if afraid the minute he let go of her that’d be the end of something that hadn’t even begun.

     Thesan halted before the Shadowsinger, eyes darting between Azriel and the girl. “Lilah,” his voice was breathless, hands cupping her face as she began to sob. “My sweet little firefly, you’ve come home.”

     Azriel’s jaw stiffened, reluctantly handing her over to Thesan who reached for her. The High Lord held her, hand spread across her bloodied back as Lilah swung her arms over his shoulders, sobbing harder into his neck.

     “I thought I’d never see you again,” Lilah blubbered. “My wings…he took my wings.”

     Azriel’s heart dropped, the iciness amidst his veins turning to fire.

     “It’s okay.” Thesan whispered back, with such a warmness that Azriel believed he could never truly know. He lowered her to her feet, a hand pressed firmly against the small of her back. Thesan’s gaze met his, such determination lingered there. “Are either of you strong enough to break the shackles without hurting her any further?”

     Cassian went to take a step forward but Azriel beat him to it. His scarred fingers grazed over her shackled wrists, his chest tightening as he met her eyes briefly. His shadows circled around them, figuring out the puzzle of the lock whilst Azriel tried to concentrate. He made a short, harsh exhale, heaving apart the first cuff his shadows had unlocked. His thumb unconsciously rubbed over the skin, much colder to the rest of her body and slightly reddened from aggravation.

     His shadows slithered to the cuff on her right hand, his fingers now gently trying to tug the iron apart. He felt Lilah’s stare, his heart aching as he breathed unevenly. Azriel glanced up at the her briefly, lips twitching into a small smile as she quickly looked away. At last, his shadows picked apart the lock, Azriel breaking free the iron cuff clamped tight around her wrist.

     Lilah shuddered, drawing in a sharp breath as she slumped against Thesan who’d been quick to grab hold of her. Azriel reached for her wrist, a hand massaging the wrist as if bringing warmth back to her body.

     “Lilah?” Thesan’s hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head to meet his frightened stare. “What is it?”

     “I forgot…” Lilah breathed. “I forgot what my power felt like.”

     “Everything will be better now.” Thesan ran his hand down the back of her hair, further, further down until it met her back. His hand swept over the deep cuts of Lilah’s back, his hand turning golden, like an orb of light, and before his eyes, the wounds on her back sealed shut.

     Healing…Azriel had forgotten about Thesan’s extraordinary healing power.

     Azriel met Thesan’s eyes, the High Lord cocking his head toward the palace. “Please, come inside and dine with us.”

     Thesan didn’t bother to wait, guiding Lilah back into the golden palace, his sentries lowering their weapons as he passed them by. Cassian and Azriel stood there for a long minute of silence before Cass raised his brows at him. “I, for one, am very hungry!”

     Azriel paced after his brother, striding up the marble stairs into the heart of Dawn’s golden palace. Inside, the foyer appeared to be carved of…sunstone. Such vibrancy, such light—like the Lilah Vega, Azriel first knew.

 

-------

 

Dinner was quiet, solely between Thesan and his immediate household. Lilah, however, did not dine with them that evening and Azriel found himself spending the whole dinner in absolute silence, listening to whatever feedback his shadows gave him.

     ‘She’s weeping on the loveseat.’

     ‘She’s staring out the window.’

     ‘She’s fallen asleep on the silk canopy bed.’

     Midnight had emerged in Dawn and Azriel awoke to his shadows, singing. Cassian was still asleep, snoring as loud as usual. He tugged on a loose grey shirt, pacing silently through the gold and white trimmed baroque hallway, trying to find the source of hushed arguing nearby.

     He paused by the latticework, hidden amongst the vast pot plants and the darkness of his shadows. The first voice, rich and deep, definitely belonged to Thesan and the other…dark femininity, a harshness lay beneath that harmonious voice.

     Lilah.

     Azriel strained himself to hear, to eavesdrop.

     “Will you return to Night Court on the morrow?” Thesan huffed, the rustle of clothing echoed and Azriel spied him cross his arms.

     “No.” Lilah’s voice was slightly bitter. “I won’t be going back there.”

     Azriel furrowed his brow, the ache in his chest repeatedly tugging, like something thrashing within, attempting the escape the prison of his heart.

     “They love you, firefly.” Thesan said. “As much as I.”

     Lilah was quiet for a fraction longer than expected, until. “I see the way they look at me. The Shadowsinger and the General. They wish I were Asteria.”

     “You don’t know that.” Thesan tried to reason, a hand placed on her upper arm.

     Lilah pulled away from him, shooting him a glare. “I am the reminder of their family’s murder. I am nothing to them. Nothing but now something they must pity. I don’t want it, Thesan. You, of all people should know that I don’t want them looking at me the same way my mother did that day.”

     “They are not your mother, Lilah!” Thesan’s voice hardened. “I saw where your destiny lay, all those years ago. I sent you to the Night Court because I saw it…your destiny lies in the darkness of Night.”

     “What destiny?” Lilah spat, her voice raised slightly. “I went to the Night Court and I died. I went to find my destiny, Thesan, and I found misery instead.”

     Thesan stiffened, even the light within him seemed to dim. “Your life is not over yet, firefly.”

     Lilah shook her head with a scoff. “I damned well wish it were.”

 

------

 

Azriel found her on the balcony, the twinkling stars shining bright above. She turned, perhaps sensing another’s presence, and met his gaze with an unfamiliar coldness.

     “Shadowsinger.” She said flatly, giving a curt bow. “Do you often watch from the shadows?”

     Azriel raised a brow, still leaning against the doorframe. He wondered how far that comment ran. Had she known he was eavesdropping?

     “Not always.”

     Lilah made a short hum, almost in disagreement or disapproval, he couldn’t quite place it. “Out with it then.”

     Azriel exhaled. “You’re wrong about us, Lilah. More wrong than you could ever imagine.” Lilah raised her brows, a gesture for him to continue. “We mourned you. There’s a much loved grave marked for you upon the hill Rhys first met you on.”

     Something shifted within Lilah, whether sorrow, guilt or anger, he wasn’t sure.

     “I looked for you. We all did.” Azriel swallowed. “What did they do to you, Lilah?”

     Lilah narrowed her eyes, crossing past him slowly as a wolf does its prey. “What do you care?”

     “You’re my friend.” Azriel said carefully. “I’ll always care what happens to my friends…to my family.”

     Lilah scoffed. “Family…I have no family, so forgive me for not knowing what that truly is, but friends? You never spoke to me once, Shadowsinger, yet you name me a friend? Do not patronize me. I know, you of all people, wish it were Asteria standing before you and not me.”

     Azriel licked his lips, struggling to find the words. “If only you knew the truth of it all, Lilah, then you’d never doubt me again.”

     “Truth does not exist. Only life and death.”

     Azriel drew a breath, pushing himself off the doorframe. He reached for her, his hand clamped tight around her wrist. She hissed at him, canines dropping and spat, “Your touch is familiar, Azriel of the Shadows, like the shackles weighing me down for five hundred years.”

     He let go of her, backing away into his shadows. There was a fierce light in her eyes, as fearful as the molten quicksilver amidst Nesta Archeron’s eyes. She could hurt him a thousand times and yet he’d hold onto the shred of possibility.

     Except, she’d said his name for the first time—his full name to which no one had mentioned and must’ve come from her own dark memories—and she’d turned it into a curse.

 

 

Chapter 6: In the Darkness of my Heart

Summary:

An unexpected arrival of Rhysand and his new High Lady forces Lilah into another social gathering with many questions surrounding the truth of her escape arise.

Notes:

Lilah's POV

Dawn appeared like the gates of heaven itself. The sky was painted in satin lavenders, the clouds soft in marshmallow pinks and the sun…such warmness glowed in that gilded horizon. The Dawn Court servants coiled Lilah’s hair half-up in a crowning braid, letting the remainder fall past her shoulders in a wavy cascade of gold. Five hundred years and she’d never cut her hair once…not when she hadn’t been allowed anything sharp which could've been used as a weapon against the guards of Autumn. No—Beron had said her long, golden hair would suit Autumn just fine and he’d kept her as pretty as he could for whichever son would prize her.

     A knock on her bedroom doors diverted her thoughts before the darkness could take hold, another servant bowing their head before her. “The High Lord of Night Court awaits your attendance for breakfast.”

     Lilah furrowed her brow. “Rhysand is here? Here in Dawn?”

     The servant nodded her head, a hand gesturing to the hallway. Lilah pinched the silk, rose-gold dress and took her leave toward the dining room. She halted upon the terrace that overlooked the opulent ballroom stretch, her inquisitive eyes finding a familiar dark-haired male wearing his usual Night Court suit. Beside him sat someone unfamiliar—a woman—dressed in dark navy, hair adorned with a starry tiara. There was no sign of the Morrigan, the sensual, female warrior she’d grown to be friends with long ago.

     Lilah frowned. Morrigan knew when to shut people up when their questions strayed to far and right now—considering all that she’d been through with Autumn Court—Lilah had wished Morrigan would’ve come to see her. Perhaps she wished not to.

     Lilah’s frown deepened as her eyes met the Shadowsinger, his golden-hazel eyes meeting hers from afar. How he’d noticed her, hidden behind the latticework of some high terrace, she had no idea. It seemed he knew her every move…and that frightened her. They hadn’t left last night on the best of times but she needed to push him away. The Shadowsinger was a crafty spy, that she knew and if he learnt of her engagement to Eris…

     “Are you going to join us, firefly?” Thesan’s voice called from the staircase to her left. Cassian had stopped munching on the stolen piece of honey-drizzled toast, Rhysand and the female had stopped talking to one another and Azriel…still his eyes bore into hers.

     Lilah took Thesan’s arm, gliding down the stairs beside him until she stopped before Rhysand who’d stepped to meet her. She examined him; those rich, purple eyes, sun-kissed brown skin, not a single strand of hair out of place, shimmering, faerie-dusted suit and his smile…

     “Lilah,” Rhysand breathed, smile faltering the slightest as if he’d expected she’d jump into his arms alike the old friends they once were—like the siblings they’d become. He swallowed when she didn’t answer, frame shifting into a more tense stance.

     The female raised to her feet beside him, golden-brown hair gleaming in the candle-light. She smiled as if nothing were amiss, sweet eyes entrancing her as she extended a hand. “Hello, my name is Feyre. Rhys has told me so much about you…” she gestured to the Shadowsinger and the General, “…they all have.”

     Lilah took her hand, shaking it gently. Her voice was too soft in the morning, too much like a frightened child. “There’s not much to tell about me.”

     “Please, join us for breakfast and let us become acquainted.” Feyre smiled with sincerity and a touch of apology. The woman’s arm hooked around Rhysand, the High Lord had now recoiled slightly, his face dropping into such grief…such regret.

     But Lilah couldn’t bring herself to touch him. Not when she’d failed him so greatly. His endearing mother—dead. And Asteria—never to see Starfall again.

     Lilah took a seat between Feyre and Thesan. She settled down and raised her eyes, breath caught in her throat as she was met with Azriel directly opposite her. She could’ve sworn he’d been seated to the other side of Cassian before she’d entered the dining room. Lilah immediately looked away, hearing Feyre’s voice once more.

     “Did you sleep well last night, Lady Lilah?”

     Lilah shot her a look, bloodshot eyes perhaps speaking the answer for her. Yet, instead, she mumbled, “I’m not a Lady.”

     It went silent, the scraping of metal near driving her mad for the longest five seconds of her life. Feyre cleared her throat, “Forgive me, Thesan had informed me that he’d made you a Lady upon your time here.”

     “That, I did.” Thesan joined in, his playful smile planted on his face as he took a mouthful of strawberries and cream. “Do you not remember, Lily?”

     Lilah shook her head. Remember? The only thing that ever replayed in her mind from the past was the screams of her High Lady and the thud of her daughter’s head. Lilah shut her eyes, begging the memory to leave her alone. To let her be, for once.

     Something grazed the skin of her ankle. Lilah’s eyes shot open, hard on Azriel before her. She didn’t have to look beneath the table to know his shadows were circling her. Their eyes met briefly, yet it was he who looked away first—almost instantly.

     Lilah took a mouthful of her pancakes, waiting until she swallowed the food entirely before she directed her question to Feyre. “You…You’re both…uh…”

     “Mates?” Feyre finished the sentence for her with a beaming smile.

     Lilah nodded, returning a smile much smaller. She was finding this whole interaction difficult, to say the least. Perhaps it’d been a bad idea. Perhaps she couldn’t handle facing them all too soon—if ever.

     “Feyre is also High Lady of Night Court.” Rhysand continued, meeting her eyes. His eyes begged her—begged her to say something to him, begged her to forgive him, but he was not the one who needed to beg for forgiveness.

     Lilah merely nodded and returned to her food. She could feel the tension rising, feel the way Cassian and Rhys exchanged knowing glances.

     High Lady—the words wouldn’t leave her mind. High Lady, High Lady, High Lady.

     The screams echoed within her mind once more.

     The Illyrian mother.

     ‘Run Lilah!’ she’d begged that day, but the sentry’s grip on her hair was too hard to fight off.

     “Perhaps,” Thesan began with another taunting smirk, “now that you’re free to live your life again, you’ll find a mate for yourself, too.”

     Cassian made a cooing noise—he was just as bad as her childhood friend at the head of the table. Feyre made some noise in neither agreement nor disagreement whilst Rhys watched her every movement. Thesan raised his brows at Az, who wasn’t laughing alike the two idiots to either side of him, and the Shadowsinger merely furrowed his brow at the High Lord of Dawn and returned his hard, cold gaze to the plate before him.

     “A mate is meant to compliment you,” Lilah cleared her throat, an attempt to not sound weak. Her voice turned bitter. “Who could possibly compliment someone as damaged as me?”

     Thesan’s smile disappeared.

     “Besides,” Lilah continued, refusing to look at anyone. “It’s better if I don’t ever have a mate…for they’d be hunted by Autumn Court until death.”

     The silence only grew louder.

     “Hunted by Autumn Court?” Feyre asked. “I hope it’s not too much to ask—why is Beron so adamant on having you in his Court? He kept you alive for five hundred years…there has to be some motive, some key knowledge that we’re missing.”

     Lilah shrugged. “I don’t know.”

     At last, Rhys gave Lilah an all-seeing look and asked, “Does that wedding ring around your neck have something to do with how you truly escaped?”

     …and the silence shattered like glass.

Chapter 7: Love and Death Are Two of the Same

Summary:

Azriel finds out a hard truth about Lilah and suddenly everything makes sense.

Notes:

Azriel's POV

Azriel went rigid. Even his shadows turned to ice as they monitored the tension in the room. Lilah had been caught off guard—they all had.

     “How?” Her angelic voice was heartbreakingly soft.

     Rhys pointed to her chest with his fork. “You wear it like a slave’s collar. It reeks of shame.”

     “Rhys.” Feyre scolded, her elbow nudging his side.

     Azriel didn’t think he was breathing. His mind raced, his emotions…how, after all this time of imprisonment, could she be engaged?

     Rhys sighed deeply, those violet eyes of his High Lord filled with regret as he met Lilah’s own pair filled with tears. “I…Forgive me, Lilah. I did not mean it the way it sounded.”

     “It’s the truth, though.” Lilah looked down to her plate. Az sent his shadows to scatter around her feet, to soothe her in a way he could not. Lilah’s voice broke, “Eris…He made a deal with me—a deal I could not escape. My freedom in exchange for my hand in marriage. The least he could grant me was the freedom to live wherever I pleased until the crown falls to him.”

     Azriel’s fingers tightened around his fork, so tight that his knuckles turned white. There was a nudge in his mind—Rhys. A warning.

     “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lilah.” Feyre placed a hand atop of his mate’s shaking hands. “We will help in whatever way we can. I promise you.”

     Lilah’s rosy cheeks flushed a deeper hue of red, as did the tips of her ears. He felt her embarrassment, felt her sorrow.

     “What I’d like to know,” Cassian grunted, “is what the hell those bastards did to you. Five hundred years they took you from us. Five hundred years of your life stolen.”

     Lilah swallowed, her eyes slowly rising to meet Azriel. He nodded gently, sending any sort of support he could.

     “They made me watch.” Lilah’s voice was quiet, but enough for everybody to hear. She cleared her throat—a means to push away the tears as she looked away, past Thesan toward the night. “They held me down and made me watch and after…I’d accepted my fate, too. I’d accepted that I was going to die next—I wanted to die with them.”

     Azriel tensed. Perhaps everybody else did too. Cassian was shaking his head, a forefinger and a thumb rubbing his eyes, Feyre’s hand gently rubbing Rhysand’s upper arm. Thesan had wrapped an arm around Lilah’s shoulders as the girl silently sobbed.

     “Tamlin’s father had made a deal with Beron. A spy had sold information to Beron regarding my power and the High Lord of Autumn never looked back. I was dragged all the way to the Forest Court by Tamlin’s brothers, thrown from one lot of bastards to the next.” Lilah shuddered slightly, reeling back her tears.

     “Am I missing something?” Cassian looked up from his bowed posture. “You’re telling me that Beron sought your…starlight power?”

     Lilah exchanged a quick look to Thesan, the male nodding gently. Azriel examined him—he knew something. Something the rest didn’t. Something that Lilah had hidden from them all those years ago.

     “That’s not all you can do, is it?” Azriel’s words formed before he could stop himself.

     Lilah raised her gaze to him and…shook her head. “I…mislead you all. About what I truly am.”

     There was only silence.

     “Starlight is only a portion of my power,” Lilah continued. “I have other abilities. Stronger abilities.”

     Rhys cursed. “You’re a lightsinger.”

     The words hit Azriel hard. It only made sense. His mate…his beautiful, glowing mate—a lightsinger.

     Lilah fidgeted with her hands. “I only lied because I feared what you’d do to me. The island I grew up on saw me as a monster. An enchantress or temptress. I promise you, I never meant any harm. I am the reason they killed…”

     “No, Lilah.” Rhys crouched beside the girl, tugging her into his arms. He rocked her gently, “Trust me, they are not dead because of you.”

     “You don’t know that.”

     “But, I do!” Rhysand assured her, gripping her face. His fingers wiped away her tears. “Tamlin’s father wanted to make a show of his power. He wanted to prove something to my father. That was why, not you. It was never your fault.”

     Lilah’s brow furrowed. “I could’ve stopped it.”

     “So could have I.” Rhys shook his head.

     Feyre stood from her chair, a hand placed on Rhys’ shoulder. “Perhaps it is for the best if we give Lilah a break on the questions. We can resume this another day.”

     Feyre and Rhys bowed slightly, taking leave of the dining room. Cassian leant back in his chair, still shaking his head but Az…his eyes were fixed on Lilah who paced toward the back of the palace.

     Thesan sighed deeply. “I’ve never known another soul to have lived a life as horrific as hers.” His eyes met Azriel’s, an all too knowing gaze piercing through him. “Protect her gentle heart.”

     Azriel dipped his head as Thesan took his leave. Cassian patted his back, his loud, muffled voice talking to him about something but as Azriel’s shadows swarmed around his ears, all he could hear were the weeps of his mate.

 

☪

 

He found her upon the high-rise balcony that joined two mountain faces together, a cascading waterfall falling behind her. She leant on the rail, looking down—not as if she wished to jump, but as if she wished to fly.

     “I know you’re there Shadowsinger.” Her voice was strong, but he could still tell that she’d been weeping.

     “Talk to me.” He said, stopping a safe distance of closeness behind her. He could smell the vanilla scent of her hair as the breeze swept past.

     She scoffed. “I’ve done enough talking.”

     Azriel didn’t know how to comfort. He could barely even comfort himself—usually it ended up with various diversions of emotions. Drink too heavily to numb the pain or train so hard in the combat ring that his knuckles turned bloody and skin ripped free.

     Yet, he found himself raising a hand and letting it slide over her shoulder, down to rest on her elbow. She shuddered at the icy contact at first, yet let out a breath of relief. She sniffled as he said, “Deep down we knew that your return would not be easy, on anyone—especially you. You harbor grief. You harbor guilt. I see it…I feel it.”

     She turned to meet his face, his hands returning behind his back—a safe zone for now. Lilah’s eyes glowed in the moonlight, sorrow flashing across those beautiful orbs. “I want to go back to how things were, I do. But all I can hear is their screams. The failure of my duty. How can I go back to living normally when that will always torment me. And then there’s Eris…”

     “Let’s just deal with one thing at a time,” Azriel swallowed. “Eris can’t force you to do anything, especially not in a place where he is not in power. But if it comes down to it, I’ll take you far away from him just as we took Morrigan to safety.”

     Lilah blinked away the tears. “I just want to hide somewhere where no one can find me. To heal in peace and solitude until I’m ready to face the world once more.”

     “I know a place.” Azriel cleared his throat. “I own an estate—Rosehall. I can take you there and you’ll be safe and no one will bother you. Only Rhys knows it’s location, no one else and it’s not easy to find. I made sure of it.”

     Lilah’s reddened eyes met his once more. “You’d do that?”

     “Of course,” Azriel chuckled lightly.

     “But…I lied to you.” Lilah’s forehead creased where she drew her brows closer together.

      Azriel took a breath. “You are still, and always will be, Lilah Vega. The girl who shines like starlight. You are still you, to me.”

     “Why?” Lilah pressed. “Why do this for me?”

     Azriel paused and wet his lips. Should he tell her now? No—she wasn’t ready. She needed time to heal, she’d said it herself. Five hundred years in captivity of the Vanserra’s! The last thing she’d need right now was to be claimed by another bastard.

     “Because,” Azriel said, “I wished there was someone who could’ve done the same for me when I was at my lowest.”

Chapter 8: The City of Starlight

Summary:

Lilah makes the decision to return to Night Court with hopes of living at Rosehall. Doubts are raised further when Lilah meets Elain, who envisions a darkness within her.

Notes:

Lilah's POV

After a full half-hour of hugs and goodbyes, and a low bow before Thesan’s mate—Eos—Lilah finally took leave of Thesan’s warm embrace and left Dawn’s Palace behind her. Rhysand and Feyre were waiting amidst the dry desert lands outside the front courtyard, their two Illyrian warriors on either side.

     Lilah held her head high, her satin, white gown billowing in the morning breeze. The embers of the sun cast down upon her, hair glowing like molten gold. She dipped a curtsy before the High Lord and Lady, and raised her eyes through thick lashes as Rhys gave her a smile.

     “Come,” He held a hand to her. “Let’s take you home.”

     Lilah took his hand, straightening herself before them all. She didn’t deny the fear within her. The worry that the Night Court wouldn’t be as she remembered. Would Morrigan still be her friend? Would the Court’s people stare?

     Rhys and Feyre had winnowed before her mind could stop the thoughts, leaving her to the two Illyrians. Cassian stuck his hand out, give a hearty grin, “Choice is yours, Lil. I’m much more fun.”

     Lilah stiffened, flicking her gaze between the two. Azriel remained silent, his hands still crossed against his chest. They loosened, only slightly, hand turned upward as his fingers twitched—right, that was as much of an offer he was planning to give her. A reluctant one.

     Lilah cleared her throat and before darkness swelled around her, she said with such sweetness, “I can winnow myself.”

     Lilah vanished before them, winnowing to the one place she could remember in the Night Court—her hill. It appeared Rhysand must’ve guessed it’d be where she’d go, for the male and his mate were already there, waiting.

     “We started to believe you were lost.” Rhys laughed.

     Lilah didn’t hear him. Her eyes were drawn to the white marble headstone. Her heart struck with pain—of sorrow and guilt.

     Her grave.

     She was standing before her grave. The grave marked by the High Lord himself. The grave adorned in fresh sapphire lavender bells and scarlet roses, snowy-white lilies and buttery daffodils. A row of tea-light candles was lit in a row at the base of the marble stone, a tiny statue of the Mother pouring water from the Cauldron.

     Lilah took to her knees, a shiver running down her spine. She whipped her head round to Rhys, eyes filling with water. She hadn’t even noticed Azriel or Cassian arrive but there they were, hands behind their backs, heads almost bowed slightly as if in mourning.

     “You made it look too beautiful for me.” Lilah sniffled. She didn’t want to cry again—no more weakness. “Whose flowers?”

     Azriel looked to Rhys, throat bobbing slightly. Rhys’ voice appeared deeper as he said, “I always left you lilies, in honour of your name. Mor would leave yellow daffodils because they reminded her of your hair in the sun. Cass…” his voice broke slightly, “Cass would fluctuate between any red flower but the lavender bells, Azriel always placed a fresh wreath of lavender bells every morning.”

     Lilah looked to the Shadowsinger but she couldn’t read the coldness upon his face. She couldn’t figure him out—one minute, he was so kind, the next, he appeared cold and withdrawn.

     She swallowed, “Where’s Mor?”

     ----

     Lilah hesitated by the threshold of the living room. She could hear Morrigan’s voice, along with others—multiple feminine voices. Her breath was caught in her throat, hands fidgeting with one another. Rhys had no longer led her to the House of Wind before Nuala and Cerridwen whisked her to her bedroom suite. Her bedroom suite, still kept neat and untouched, white sheets draped over furniture, another wreath of cobalt salvias and white jasmine lay over her bed.

     A hand grazed the low of her back and she shuddered, remembering that she was still lingering in the hallway. “Lilah,” the deep voice, whispered, “Is everything okay?”

     She turned, back hitting inside the wall. She knew it was Azriel before he’d even spoken, how she did not know, but there he was with those golden eyes fixed on hers. They were like the sandy dunes of Dawn, like the honeyed sun in the morning.

     Azriel’s brows were drawn closer together, his eyes scanning over her as if he suspected there to be an injury. “Lilah?”

     “Who…” Lilah swallowed, looking toward the doorway when laughter erupted inside.

     It appeared that Azriel must’ve caught on to her unspoken question for he answered with, “Mor’s in there with Feyre’s two older sisters, Nesta and Elain. Amren’s away in Summer Court for the weekend.”

     Feyre’s sisters…

     She took a deep breath and with a final look at Az, and a short, “okay” to herself, Lilah stepped into the living room. The room fell silent, the two unfamiliar High Fae snapping their gaze to hers. Mor let out some weird noise before running—running in her heels—straight toward her.

     “Lilah!” Mor drew her into a hug. She pulled back slightly; hands planted on her cheeks. “Lilah…. it’s really you, isn’t it?”

     “Morrigan.” Lilah smiled, instinctively.

     “Who…?” The stern looking female with hair coiled in a crowning braid asked, arms crossed.

      “Nesta,” Morrigan turned to the woman, “This is Lilah Vega. She was the handmaiden of Rhys’ mother. Lilah’s a Seraphim from Cretea and Dawn Court.” Morrigan turned her gaze back as fast as possible, the realization hitting her. “Your wings?”

     Lilah’s jaw tightened. “I…I lost them.”

     “Oh, Lilah.” Morrigan tugged her back into a tight hug. “I’m dearly sorry. I know how much your prized them.”

     Lilah frowned.

      “This is Nesta Archeron, Cassian’s mate.” Morrigan pointed to the woman on her right, then to her left, “This is Elain Archeron. She’s a Seer.”

     The latter extended her hand, fragile and gentle. Lilah took hold, though before she could shake hands, Elain withdrew hastily and sucked in a harsh breath.

     “I saw…a darkness in you.”

     “What?” Lilah stepped back, hitting against someone’s well-muscled chest.

     Az.

     “Darkness in your blood.” Elain’s eyes widened, her voice becoming more powerful as she stated, “You are the one Koschei searches for.”

     Lilah stepped out of Az’s hold, looking frantically around the room—for an escape. “That’s not…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     Azriel held a hand to Elain, an order to not move. “Lilah…”

     Rhysand appeared from on the spot from the darkness of night, eyes searching the room until they met hers, as if he’d sensed something had happened—or had heard of Elain’s words, but before the High Lord could say a single word, Lilah winnowed away  where nobody would expect find her.

     The southern-most village of Winter.

Chapter 9: The Graveyard of Her Past

Summary:

Lilah misdirects her winnow, landing in a familiar graveyard of her past. When an Illyrian male saves her from the abuse of two other winged warriors, Lilah finds herself running away with him in hopes of finding her destiny.

Notes:

Lilah’s POV

P.S: This fanfic takes place in the space between ACOFAS & ACOSF!

Snow.

     Tiny flakes of snow fell around her, the trees like frozen statues, bare and dark against the white fog that swept through the mountains.

     It felt like winter…but Lilah knew this was not the Winter Court she’d hoped to winnow.

     No—this was someplace familiar. Someplace where she’d been before…where she’d died.

     Illyria.

    She could almost taste the blood in her mouth; almost smell the scent of wrath and pride…but these woods did not belong to Windhaven—the graveyard of her High Lady and Princess.

     Lilah stood, clutching her freezing frame like a little lost deer in the lonely, dark woods. There were eyes on her—she felt them. The slight flap of a wing in the near distance, a rolling snigger echoing through the wind.

     “I know you.” A dark voice rippled through the fog, a tall silhouette breaking before her—of dark wings and midnight eyes. “You were once the High Lord’s little pet, no?”

     Lilah swallowed, eyes seizing the heir of Ironcrest. Kallon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as those charcoal eyes roved over her body, from head to toe and back up again. As if he could see straight through the gown she wore. As if she were a prize gifted to him—still deciding whether to take or to discard, or both together.

     “Tell me,” Kallon continued when she didn’t respond, “Has Lord Rhysand sent you to me as an offering or has he truly lost his mind to send you to my camp as his messenger?”

     “I wasn’t sent by anyone.” Lilah furrowed her brow, watching as Kallon cocked his head like a confused dog. She drew a breath, “I was running away. I meant to winnow to Winter but…”

     “But your mind betrayed you and sent you to me, instead.” Kallon finished her sentence with his own explanation. He tucked his hands behind his back, beginning to circle her as a wolf does a lamb. He took a deep sniff, as if smelling her and scoffed, sensing something she did not. The male shook her head, “Just in time!”

     Lilah narrowed her eyes, not following his words until two heavy thuds landed to either side of her, heavy hands holding her down against the muddy snow. Lilah cried out, gritting her teeth as one male’s hand pressed her head harder into the ground, a knee pressed into her back to keep her down. The second male’s fingers crawled up her leg, slow and if waiting for a command to do as he pleased.

     Lilah forced her head up enough to meet the eyes of the heir of the Clan; pleading, begging, silently screaming.

     Yet, Kallon merely smirked. “A gift to you, sons of Erebus. Have this sweet flower, the mate of your cursed brother.”

     Lilah shuddered, eyes frantically searching the heir before he turned on his heel, form turning to shadow and mist until he was gone.

     Mate?

     Lilah had no mate.

     The males began tearing at her gown, struggling against the fight she was putting up. She reached a hand up, nails sharp against the closest one’s face. She slashed at the bronzed skin, sharp cuts etching across the Illyrian’s cheek.

     They were Illyrian, no surprise…but it was hard to spot any features that could mirror anybody that she knew. Their brother was her mate—that Kallon had said as much. She had no time to ponder as their anger grew and their grips turned hard like frost.

     The earth shook as another set of feet plummeted into the ground; ice splintering around Lilah like shards of glass cutting into her exposed skin. A violent storm of wings flapped, sending the men back with a blast of magic from his yellow Siphons.

     Yellow…not fiery red nor lunar blue but yellow. Golden yellow.

     “Moros and Momus, you are certainly bold to touch the mate of one of our High Lord’s favoured.” The male clicked his tongue, arms crossed against his broad chest. He was muscular, though not as well sculpted as Cassian but closer to Azriel’s build. “Go now, I do believe I overheard some at camp say the dearest Rhysand is marching to us right now with his minions. Imagine the punishments you’ll both face when they see the marks upon her skin.”

     The two males growled and with a violent flap of their wings, they fled.

     Lilah felt a tear slide down her face…several, rather, to which she hadn’t noticed letting them fall. The winged male before her had glided toward her, extending a hand to which she took. It wasn’t until she was back on two feet, staring into the eyes of her saviour, when she wondered if she’d perhaps traded one set of evil for something far worse…

    And so the male took off into the sky, refusing to let her go.

Chapter 10: The Kidnapped Maiden

Summary:

With Lilah missing, the truth of what she is to Azriel comes out as rage and guilt overcome him. The three Illyrians travel to Ironcrest to question Kallon on what truly happened--and find that she's being taken to perhaps the most dangerous place in all of Prythian.

Notes:

Azriel’s POV

“My shadows have gone silent.” Azriel cursed, pacing up and down in the dining room. “They’ve never done this before…they should be able to find her. I should be able to find her.”

     “Az,” Cass sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.”

     Azriel whirled on him, eyes like wicked sin and deathly cold. “You want to give up on her?”

     Cassian’s jaw tensed, eyes flicking between Az and Rhys. He leant forward, balancing his elbows on the table. “I didn’t say that. Cauldron, Az…you should know I’m not someone who easily gives up—especially not on one of our own but…” he swallowed as if choosing his next words very carefully, “Lilah’s changed. She’s not…She doesn’t fit in here.”

     “I think she fits in fine.” Feyre’s voice wasn’t as soft as usual but stern, much like the voice she used when she severely disagreed.

     Azriel almost bowed before her with thanks, but his eyes turned to Cass, then Rhys then Mor then Nesta and at last…Elain. “You’ve all pushed her too far. Five hundred fucking years she’s been tortured, her wings were ripped off with Beron’s bare bloody hands and Mother knows what else they did to her. Of course, she’s not herself. She doesn’t know who she is anymore and we were supposed to help her find herself again. We were supposed to show her the light and all we’ve done is pushed her toward the dark.”

     “My Lord,” An Illyrian messenger bearing Windhaven’s crest swept through the halls, a roll of parchment in hand. He handed to Rhys, bowing slightly before stepping aside as Rhys unrolled the parchment.

     “Shit.” Rhys cursed, reading the lines silently. “Shit.”

     He threw the parchment onto the table, Mor reaching for it immediately. Rhys’s widened eyes met Az’s, and somehow, he knew. He knew the Illyrians had word about Lilah.

     “Devlon sent word that Lilah had passed through Ironcrest’s camp.” Rhysand began, and Cassian swore like a drunken bastard. Azriel wasn’t sure if he was breathing, especially as Rhys’ eyes were fixed on him, “Your half-brothers were brought in for questioning and treachery upon the clans. They…had their hands on her,” –Rhys took a breath, monitoring Az’s heartbeats…or perhaps his own forsaken mind— "But someone intervened and took her away.”

     “By the Cauldron!” Mor let out a breath. “We have to get her back.”

     “Who?” Azriel’s voice was much quieter than he expected. “Who took her?”

     “Your half-brothers don’t know, Az.” Rhys leaned on the back of his chair. “They claim to have never seen him before but identified him as Illyrian—young, like us, with yellow Siphons.”

     “Yellow?” Cass was as confused as the rest of them. There were few who needed Siphons for power, few who had such blessed strength within them. Yet, never once had they seen somebody with yellow Siphons—a new warrior-novice perhaps.

     Azriel swallowed. “Let me go, Rhys. Let me go find her.”

     “We’ll all go! Why do you act as if she’s more important to you than to any of us?” Mor asked from the other side of the table.

     Az didn’t answer, perhaps the tears welling up in his eyes said enough.

     “Azriel!” Mor snapped. “You never cared about her before. What’s changed?”

     Azriel thumped his hands on the table, the glassware shaking as he abruptly took to his feet. Everybody stared at him, enamored by his wrathful reaction. His voice broke as he looked to his High Lord, “I lost her once, I will not lose her a second time.”

    The room fell silent, if not for Az’s heavy breathing. Rhys looked at him—really looked at him as if he finally understood. At last, he nodded his head to him, “Go, Az. Bring your mate home.”

 

Az had been flying for hours, scattering his shadows and listening to their every word. Yet, not a single whisper returned of his beloved mate. Cassian had been flanking him, swooping and swerving and soaring in absolute silence apart from the occasional, ‘I don’t see anything.’

     They landed hard on the outskirts of Kallon’s tent, several Illyrian warriors taking to their feet half in fear, half ready for a fight. Kallon, himself, stood from the campfire, tucking his hands in his pockets as if the two before him were no more than children.

     “What do you both want, this time?” Kallon sneered. “Another war, perhaps?”

     “Lose the sneer, Kallon.” Cassian spoke before Az—perhaps sensing the icy rage riling up from within. “Devlon sent word to us that one of Lord Rhysand’s protected, passed through here. Before you start denying, Morus and Momus are witnesses to the encounter.”

     Azriel shuddered at the names of his half-brothers. They’d been born wicked, and so they were wicked upon him as a child. The scars upon his hands…that ere the kinds of marks they left in their wake, if not death. If they dared mark the skin of his mate…

     “Yes, I do recall a particular lovely female strolling through my camp.” Kallon raised his eyebrows quickly, as if the memory amused him. Azriel’s fists furled tight, nails breaking the skin of his palm. “She’d claimed to have intended on winnowing to Winter Court.”

     Azriel furrowed his brow. If her intention had been south, she should never had been redirected further north—not without something else…some other magical intervention. Something dark, raw and untamed. Something cursed.

     “Tell us about the male who took her.” Cassian responded, as if thinking the same as Az.

     Kallon clicked his tongue. “Ah…sorry fellows. You see, I had left before then.”

     “You mean left her to my half-brothers.” Azriel took a step, but Cass’ hand was placed firmly on his shoulder. “You’re just as guilty as they are. Rhys will ensure punishment for that, alone.”

     Kallon’s face tightened, before his eyes narrowed mockingly. “It appears you’re rather hunting her down than seeking her safety. I believe she used the words, ‘running away’ from the High Lord.”

     Azriel and Cassian exchanged a glance.

     A dark shadow appeared behind Kallon, finger gripping their temple.

     Rhys.

     “I’d like to see for myself,” Rhysand purred, “What truly happened here.”

     Kallon shook as Rhys plunged into his mind, Az hanging on to every word Rhys spoke to them within their minds.

     “I know you…” Kallon’s words echoed in their minds. “You were once the High Lord’s pet, no? Tell me, has Lord Rhysand sent you to me as an offering or has he truly lost his mind to send you to my camp as his messenger?”

     “I wasn’t sent by anyone.” Lilah’s voice came echoing back, too sweet…too soft.

     Azriel felt his heart shatter for her, he felt…was this truly the bond’s making. Did the bond feel this intense or was this truly how he felt for her…for the little, lost star? His light and hope. He should’ve damned well taken her straight to Rosehall, where he could protect her—look after her. Where he’d know she was surely safe and cared for.

     Then…her words, tore at his heart.

     “I was running away. I meant to winnow to Winter but…”

     “But your mind betrayed you and sent you to me, instead.” Kallon finished her sentence.

     Rhys’ voice boomed through their minds, through the memory. “Who redirected her to you? Who overrode her power and brought her here?”

     Kallon wheezed out a groan. “He told me…he told me to not interfere.”

     “Who?” Rhys’ voice was heavy.

     Kallon’s groans intensified as if he was trying to push away from Rhys’ power but the darkness only forced its way further. “Balthazar. His name is Balthazar.”

     “The male who took her away?” Rhys demanded answers, “The Illyrian with yellow Siphons, correct?”

     “Yes.” Kallon shook again. “He answers to the one they call Deathless.”

     Rhys pulled free from Kallon’s mind, the heir of Ironcrest falling to his knees. The High Lord swore, “Koschei. Balthazar is Koschei’s messenger? Where would he take her? Where do you think they went?”

     Kallon sneered, directing his words to Azriel. “You’ll never get her back. Just accept that she’s gone for good.”

     There was a loud smack, Azriel’s fist connecting hard against the heir’s cheekbone. Cass and Rhys were tugging him away—not indefinitely but enough to make a show of interference. Azriel growled, “Answer the damned question!”

     Kallon’s face was beginning to swell up, his nose dripping blood from the pressure of the hit. The male laughed as the blood spread over his teeth, “She did not know that you were her mate.”

     Azriel’s eyes widened, only for a moment before he completely unleashed his wrath on the male. It took a good five minutes for Rhys to break them apart, perhaps knowing all too well how deep this rage ran when it came to a male and his mate.

     At last, Kallon spat blood onto the icy dirt. “The Prison…He’s taking her to the Prison.”

Notes:

p.s. reminder this is a fanfic and although I loved how sweet Balthazzar was in ACOSF, I wanted to do something different with his character :)))) like why was he really helping the Valkyries in the Blood Rite and where did he go after?

Chapter 11: The Master of Thieves

Summary:

Lilah learns more of who Balthazar is and what he truly wants from her, but when she wishes to back down from the path she's heading, she finds it is too late to turn back.

Notes:

Lilah's POV

P.S. if you haven't read Throne of Glass, the ending of this chapter may be confusing.

The snow was sticking to her face the further north they travelled. The air was so crisp it pierced through her lungs, the call of an eagle near deafening her ears.

     One day on foot felt like a lifetime of misery. Dusk threatened upon them, leaving Balthazar no choice but the halt inside a cave high up in the mountain's peak, a small fire lit in the midst of it. Lilah sat across the blaze, munching on whatever beast Balthazar had hunted for their supper--she hadn't wanted to know what she was eating.

     The wind howled outside the cave's mouth, the night shrouding them like darkness and chaos, flickering shadows from the fire like tiny demons laughing at them.

     Lilah's eyes met the Illyrian on the other side of the fire, the side closest to the exit.

     He did not trust her...and she did not trust him.

     "I've never seen you before." Lilah broke the silence, her voice echoing slightly.

     Balthazar hushed a laugh, throwing the near-clean bone into the shadows of the corner. "They call me the Wraith, for that exact reason."

     "They?" Lilah caught the words, watching as the male didn't seem the slightest bit fazed by the information he'd let loose. Perhaps he'd wanted her to know. Perhaps...there'd be no secrets between them.

     "My King." Balthazar raised his brows playfully, monitoring her own emotions. He drew a breath, "Have you ever wondered about your heritage, Lilah Vega?"

     Lilah furrowed her brows, trying not to forget his words...the King. The last person she'd known to call themselves King was Hybern. "No," she swallowed, tossing the bone in her hand into the fire. "I know all that there is to know about me."

     "Do you now?" Balthazar looked intrigued. He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Please, enlighten me."

     "My father was a Seraphim from Cretea, an honourable warrior in their aerial legion, Commander of the Fallen...but he died before I was born." Lilah drew a heavy breath, "My mother was a courtesan in Dawn, it was there that he sired me. She travelled all the way to Cretea when she learned of her pregnancy, hoped to buy her freedom from the Pleasure House and start a new life on the island."

     "But that never happened?" Balathazar asked.

     Lilah shook her head. "According to my mother, he wished to have nothing to do with me. He didn't care what became of her, that's why she didn't mourn him when he died in battle. I brought such grief to my mother in those nine months that when I was born, she tried to drown me. It was then that she saw what I was..."

     "A lightsinger."

     Lilah nodded. "She believed she was cursed, that she'd spawned a monster...a demon. She threw me into the lake, knowing I wouldn't die, but I think she hoped enough that I would and fled back to Dawn."

     Balthazar remained silent for a long while. "I overheard the pompous Lord Rhysand tell a tale to his minions one night. They believed they were alone but...I am the Wraith, after all. The Master of Thieves...and that night I was to steal information." He watched her very carefully but she kept her face neutral. "It was the following night you'd stumbled into Night Court, causing such a dilemma to them as to what to do with you. Of course, the two females wished you to stay. The other bastards were sceptical...but Rhysand made claim that you'd learned something from your mother in Dawn Court that you did not like and had run away because of it."

     Lilah ground her teeth. "What are you getting at?"

     Balthazar smirked. "The truth. What did she tell you?"

     Lilah went still.

     "Oh, come on..." Balthazar taunted. "Did you think you could fool me, or have you told that sweet, white lie for so long that you forgot it wasn't true?"

     Lilah felt herself crumble. She felt small amidst the ever-growing dark cave. The fire began to glow brighter, grow hotter. The shadows watched her. The male before her wore a smile that mocked her.

     She hadn't forgotten.

     Of course, she hadn't.

     Not a single day went by when she remembered.

     But Rhysand was Daemati. If she thought too long on it...he would've found it.

     He would've killed her for it.

     Lilah let her tears stray, "My secret could get me killed, do you understand?"

     "Understand?" Balthazar's smirk only grew into what could've been describe as a seductive smile any other day. "Baby, I've known since the day I swore an oath to your father."

     Lilah looked to her feet.

     She should've known...Her father--The King.

     "Where is he?"

     Balthazar shrugged, more out of habit than of not knowing for he answered, "The Prison."

     "Is that where you're taking me?" Lilah kept her eyes down. "To the Prison? To my father?"

     "No."

     Lilah looked up immediately, eyes burning through his. "I thought you said..."

     "Do you really believe your father stupid?" Balthazar laughed. "The High Lord believes that is where you are headed. It's a trap, sweet Lilah. Rather, the King demanded that I take you as far away from them as possible."

     "Why?" Lilah shook her head in question. "All those years in Dawn. All those years in Night. All those torturous years in Autumn. Why not then?"

     "Your father is a patient man, Princess of the Tower." Balthazar's smile vanished. "He is Deathless and he is patient."

     Koschei was not entirely Deathless, Lilah almost spat. She knew of his shattered soul, of where he hid those fragments. Only she knew...his daughter. She hadn't lied entirely about her story, only that her father was not Seraphim. It was her mother, half Seraph, half Peregryn of Dawn, an orphan shipped off into slavery in the Pleasure House of Cretea. It was there that she'd met Koschei, disguised as a lover. It was there that he'd sired her. He'd bought her mother's freedom and helped her leave Cretea back to Dawn. He promised he'd come back for her...but he never did and it was the truth behind her mother's resentment toward her.

     Yet it seemed Koschei had come back, though not for her mother...but for Lilah, herself.

     She didn't dare ask what he wanted with her.

     Her powers were unrivalled. There was no doubt he wished to wield a Lightsinger against Night Court's Shadowsinger with Balthazar against Rhys' Illyrian General.

     Her father was plotting a bloodbath.

     And Rhysand was walking straight into the trap with his Inner Circle.

     Lilah stood, "I will not take part in the downfall of my friends. Of my new family."

     Balthazar winnowed before her a hand over her mouth. She struggled against his hold, feeling something slip between his fingers, sliding down her throat.

     A potion.

     Her eyes widened, shock blaring through her.

     "You don't have a choice." Balthazar whispered, watching with glee as the potion took effect over her quickly. "Embrace the Darkness, little princess."

     Lilah's eyes turned coal black, a sheath of metal augmented around her neck from nothingness.

     Her mind had been seized, by something dark and powerful.

     She screamed into the void but her body didn't respond.

     Instead, she watched from the dark pit of her subconsciousness, as her physical form betrayed her and followed the Illyrian thief out of the cave.

Notes:

updates are slower than usual because I've begun my Masters degree at uni which is literally exhausted and on top of that I'm currently in the midst of the NSW, Australia floodings which are getting worse every day, so thanks for being patient :)

Chapter 12: Divine Intervention

Summary:

Azriel is backed by the Inner Circle as they seek out Lilah's location, however, they are met with Koschei the Deathless and find that getting Lilah back is much harder than they thought.

Notes:

Azriel's POV

Azriel's shadows could only find so much.

     North. That much they told him. North amidst the mountain ranges where very few ever stepped foot, let alone survived the harsh climate. These mountains were said to be worse than Ramiel where the Great Rite took place with no clear path, wild animals and monstrous men hiding away in the darkest nooks.

     None of them had said a word. Not Rhys, though Azriel didn't doubt he'd been speaking through the bond to his beloved mate who followed behind them with Mor and Nesta. Cassian occasionally threw snowballs at Nesta, as if an attempt to lighten up the group, only Nesta's anger grew more and more with every drawing second.

     Her rage could rival that of his own right now.

     "We should take a break." Rhys stated, planting his foot on a nearby boulder. He drew a breath, looking back to the women--to his mate. "Scatter your shadows again whilst we rest, Az. We can't go in there exhausted, it'll be a suicide mission."

     "I don't care." Azriel muttered back, but even he stopped. He furrowed his brow, an attempt not to let his emotions break free. He shook his head before swallowing, turning his attention to Rhys when the others took a squat not too close. His voice was a near whisper as he said, "What if this is all for nothing? What if..." --the dread question had been floating around his mind from the very first day-- "What if I'm missing the point? What if she doesn't want to be my mate, or anything to do with me?"

     Rhys was still staring out into the distance, as if admiring his own land or perhaps wishing to set it alight. Feyre came to his side, taking a seat on the boulder before her. He caressed her shoulder, still deep in thought. His voice was light, "I love Lilah as much as I still love my mother and my sister. She is and always will be family." His eyes met Azriel, "I used to be so arrogant, remember? I was convinced that no one would ever be deserving of my little sister, but then I met you both and I wondered if perhaps one of you would be her mate. But there was never any bond between Cass or you with Asteria."

     He swallowed. "The day I met Lilah, like a fallen star dropped out of the night sky, like an angel delivered to us from the Mother, a gift from Starfall, my first initial thought was of you, Azriel. You had gone to hell and back ever since you were born, and I believed that perhaps this girl had been gifted to us as a beacon of light for one of us, for you. I observed you, though clearly not well enough, because all the while I hoped for a bond to snap in place for you both, I believed nothing ever came. I should've known by your silent glances alone that there was something there."

     Feyre traced Rhys' hand until he locked his fingers with hers.

     His mate. Would he ever experience their love? Could Lilah ever think him worthy the way Feyre does of Rhys?

     "It didn't snap into place straight away." Azriel looked away, sensing Rhys' eyes on him. His voice broke, "She was here for three months before it snapped into place. I'd spent those first three months monitoring her, waiting for her to attack us. My shadows kept muttering her name and I thought it was danger they were warning me about but...Winter's Solstice. Your mother hosted that Solstice Soiree in the gardens, remember?"

     "I remember." Rhysand's voice was so silent he almost missed it.

     "She kept to herself, attending the High Lady as her maid but your mother dismissed her to have fun." Azriel made a small laugh, remembering the day. "I'd never seen someone so petrified of having fun. Asteria was off dancing around the garden square with Cassian like two lunatics and you were being introduced to some men with your father. She was alone, so she knelt before the massive fountain, watching the swans glide around the white rose petals. I was watching her, of course. Cauldron, I was always watching her and I didn't realise why until...she looked up and her eyes met mine. That's when I felt it...the mating bond snapped into place. It was like a kick to the gut, I thought I was going to hurl up right then and there. I thought the same must've happened to her, that both mates felt it at the same time. I'd gone this long thinking that until Feyre came along. By then, it was too late--I'd lost her. I knew deep down she wasn't dead but I didn't know what to do. I was a coward, afraid that she'd reject me. Well, she still may yet."

     "You don't know that, Az." Feyre's voice was sweet, as always--much like the virtuous tones of his own beloved. "I gave Rhys hell and still we persevered."

     Azriel clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “When I saw her in the woods…I didn’t think I just moved. It was her and I needed to touch her. To know this was real. She looked at me…and she didn’t even recognise me but I still refused to let her go. There she was, alive before me, battered and bruised and so thin, and her wings…i knew by the blood upon her back alone that they’d been ripped from her back. That my Lilah had known pain like none of us had known. That I couldn’t have saved my own mate from harm. I do not deserve her, Feyre. I do not deserve anyone.”

     "Then why are we here?" Rhys heaved a breath, moving his foot from the boulder as if he were ready to stroll away. "If you're so sure that this is all for nothing, why are we doing this Az?"

     Azriel stared at his High Lord. "Because...I love her."

     Rhysand nodded as if hoping Az's own words would sink into the Shadowsinger's head. "You love her, that is enough. That is all she needs, Az, is for you to love her."

     Darkness rippled and two others winnowed before them. Cassian and Az took to their weapons, ready to defend, until their eyes set upon Thesan with Elain.

     "We've seen something." Thesan began, "Our visions came together and we saw her."

     Azriel took a step toward him. "Where is she? Tell me."

     "They lied." Elain said, "Balthazar lied about taking her to the Prison. It's a trap, for you all to die."

     "Where. Is. She?" Azriel's voice was like a death curse, eyes solely on the High Lord of Dawn.

     Thesan didn't back down, his own stare as golden and sharp. "They made it ashore one of the northern Illyrian isles but they did something to her..." --he swallowed watching Az intently-- "I saw a metal collar around her neck, eyes turned wholly black."

     "Possession?" Cassian queried.

     "It's like nothing I've ever seen before." Thesan shook his head. "It's almost like some demon from another universe."

     Azriel was silent, his chest restricting. "They're going to use her to kill us."

     "We're not going to let that happen," Rhysand affirmed, taking his weapons out of their holds. He took one look at Thesan before turning to face the group, "Let's go bring her home."

 

-----

 

They stood in strategic formation; a semi-circle of Rhys and Thesan in the centre, Nesta and Feyre to either side. Then behind them filling in the gaps, Mor and Elain quietly wait as Cassian and Azriel stand on either side with their weapons in hand.

     "You're sure?" Rhysand reaffirmed, eyes not glancing at the male beside him. "This was the spot?"

     "Yes," Thesan answered, eyes darting around the snowy plains for his childhood best friend.

     Snowflakes fell upon the terrain, like frozen tears awaiting for the Deathless to arrive. At last, the earth shuddered beneath them, a giant shadow coating the icy ground from pure white to shadowy darkness. Koschei appeared before them like a god of war and death, of bloodshed and coldness. He was not alone...beside him, holding a sharp crescent blade in hand was his little minion, his messenger and thief.

     Balthazar.

     Azriel snarled, deep and guttural. His sneer did not go reprimanded, even Cassian bared his teeth as the Illyrian traitor before them. Yet, Balthazar appeared unfazed, blaring his wings wide with a playful smirk on his mouth. He believed himself too important in a dangerous game--Azriel would wipe that damnable smirk right off his face!

     "You took one of our own," Thesan began, slow and calculated. "We demand you give her back to us or war will ensue."

     Koschei tittered, "You would go to war over a sad, little girl?"

     "She's no girl." Rhysand countered. "And yes, we would."

     Azriel held Balthazar's stare as if the bastard knew--no he did know--that Lilah was everything to him. Azriel cared less about Koschei, there'd be no doubt that the rest of them would focus on the chthonic male but Balthazar...that was his kill to make.

     But Lilah...where was she?

     He looked around the plains as if his shadows would drift toward her. Shadows formed before them and he lost believed they'd found her until...

     "Looking for me?"

     Everybody snapped their attention to Lilah, a thick collar sheathed tight around her neck, eyes a sickly black and in her hand, a sword of shadows--though perhaps not the shadows of Az's own making but...they belonged to a shadowsinger. Azriel's eyes snapped to Koschei--it made sense. The original shadowsinger standing before them, like the villain darkness seemingly possessed.

     "Lily." Thesan's voice was symphonic. As if testing to see if his theory of her being changed was correct.

     There was no recognition in her eyes, nothing but boredom and...something poisonous lay in her stare as it beheld Elain, then Mor who shifted closer to the seer. At last, her eyes landed on his, the darkness in her eyes was like a stab to the heart. If she tried to kill him...he couldn't hurt her. Not her, of her people.

     "What have you done to her?" Cassian's words were like a damn war cry themselves, a demand for their opposition to choose their words very carefully.

     Balthazar shrugged, "It's just a pretty little necklace for a pretty little woman."

     Azriel went to move but a claw plunged into his mind, hard enough to make him stall.

     Rhys--keeping control.

     "In another world, demons were let loose," Koschei explained, each word causing a rumble through the valley like thunder. "They called them the Valg, with powerful Kings and Queen and Princes that fed on humanity...but more so, power."

     "You're killing her slowly for your own gain," Azriel growled, almost fighting against Rhys' hold on his mind. Any further and Rhys would step in and paralyse him for a moment--anything to keep the peace.

     There was a long silence before Koschei laughed and said, "You are the one destined for my daughter, aren't you? Balthazar told me about you. About the Shadowinger mate."

     Daughter.

     The words hit them all like a storm.

     "You wanted war?" Koschei rumbled, "Then let's have war."

Notes:

I don't know if Koschei is a Shadowsinger but it's a fanfic and I'm sticking with it for now ahahahah

Chapter 13: Paralysed

Summary:

A short chapter seen through the eyes of Lilah, who is taken over by a Valg Prince.

Notes:

Lilah's POV

Somewhere in the depthless darkness, Lilah calls out to no end.

     Her voice is ragged and broken and tired. Her mind is drained of energy, her power eating away from her veins.

     She tries to fight the darkness that has come over her, but they are powerful...too powerful.

     Her arm is raised to cast down her sword, meeting the metallic clang of Nesta's sword. Though she recognises her, she cannot stop. She cannot turn away from the fight that is unfolding.

     Down in the depthless darkness, Lilah sobs, begging anyone for help.

     Down in the depthless darkness, a shadow strokes her cheek...

and someone's dagger pierces her shoulder, and she cries out in a voice so weak.

Chapter 14: The Call of the Bond

Summary:

The fight is underway between the Inner Circle and Koschei. When Lilah threatens to kill Azriel, he must make a choice to save her.

Notes:

Azriel's POV

Darkness wept around the isle like the shadow of Death.

     Magic bounded off each other, swords clashing against swords.

     Azriel's shadows swarmed around Koschei, seeking the weak spot as he hurled a throwing knife at the male. Rhys swept around them, the two Illyrians making blow after blow against Koschei. Nesta was somewhere in the background with Cassian, their attentions turned on saving Lilah. Azriel couldn't see from his angle, could barely see through the thick, choking darkness permeating from Koschei.

     Balthazar fell onto his back beside him, Mor holding a dagger firmly against his throat. One second, it took. One breath, for the Morrigan to take down the treacherous Illyrian. A shadowing hand swept Azriel off his feet at the slightest chance of being taken off guard. Thesan held up a wall of gold, searing light, caging the Deathless One for a flicker of time.

     "Free her from your ruse." Thesan demanded.

     Cassian grunted, Az's gaze snapping to the far left by the boulder where Lilah drove a sword through his stomach. A shrill cry let loose from Nesta's mouth before she made to move on Lilah, the golden-haired lightsinger merely smirking as her demonic black eyes fixed on her next kill.

     Time felt exaggerated.

     Azriel moved, as fast as he could. Toward--

     Koschei's darkness unfurled once more, pushing back Thesan, Rhys and Feyre until he stood alone. Stood unattended...unrivalled.

     Elain dropped to Cassian's side, a hand holding the flesh wound as she screamed for Thesan's name. Az watched as Thesan neared them, sweeping a glowing hand over his brother's stomach. Nesta's dagger hit against Lilah's shoulder, ripping free the flesh and near relishing at the sight of Lilah's blood spraying over her face.

     Azriel dove straight for her, tackling her against the ground.

     Lilah was fast, flipping them until she straddled his hips with something sharp against his throat. No...he felt for the knife at his thigh--

     Truth Teller was held against his own throat, with his beloved mate on top of him ready to kill him.

     In the distance he could hear Rhys and Feyre, could make out the way they stood side by side, hand in hand, combining powers to make a match against the great Deathless. He could hear Cassian taking a breath, Thesan telling him to take it easy...but most of all, he could see Lilah.

     He stared at the black pools of her eyes, at whatever wickedness took her place. Yet, she was hesitating. He could see himself in the dark reflection and wondered, just wondered, if perhaps she could hear him.

     Azriel’s fingers dance along her thigh, trying to get her to listen. “Lilah, if you’re in there…if you’re listening, you are stronger than you believe you are.”

     Lilah's jaw tightened...perhaps recognition.

     He damned well hoped so.

     "Lilah." He whispered. Her name had become a prayer for so long it'd become habit.

     She faltered again, only for a fraction, until whatever was inside of her grunted through her defiance and pushed the blade closer again.

     “I forgive you Lilah." Azriel whispered again, fingers gently soothing her thigh. "I forgive you…if you forgive me.”

     Lilah's eyes grew wet and just when he accepted that he was going to die, his mate stood up and backed away for a couple steps...as if stumbling away, Truth Teller still in her hand.

     Her eyes were still black. The collar was still around her throat. But perhaps...she was fighting hard to keep control.

     Azriel sat up, eyes begging her--for anything--watching as she looked from him, to the blade in her hand to the Deathless One still winning in the fight to her right, and paced through the battlefield like a Cauldron blessed warrior toward her own father with only one look on her face.

     Death.

Chapter 15: An Ember in the Darkness

Summary:

When the mating bond clicks into place for Lilah, she is able to overcome the Valg demon inside of her.

Notes:

Lilah's POV

Drums.

     Her mind was full of them.

     Diabolical drums at first but then...war drums--the steady beat of her determined heart.

     The Valg inside her was screaming, squashed down far when it had once placed her, but...

     She was in control.

     The mating bond had clicked into place. Azriel's words, or perhaps his touch, whatever it had been, it'd worked, and she'd found the strength to overthrow the demon inside.

     But Koschei didn't know that...and she had to use that to her advantage.

     As strong as the Inner Circle was, as strong as two High Lords were...none were going to overthrow her father--the one they called Deathless.

     But perhaps she could.

     She didn't say she believed she could kill him. She certainly didn't believe she'd live through this.

     But she had a plan.

     A plan that would serve well enough to save her friends, her family.

     Lilah stood beside her father, the collar still sheathed tight around her throat. He laughed at them before him as she joined his side. Mocked them for their failure.

     Azriel stood beside his High Lord, his eyes concentrated on hers, as if he knew. Maybe he did, he was the Spymaster after all, known for observing things that others couldn't.

     Her eyes met Balthazar, whose body lay unmoving and silent on the cold icy ground. Truth Teller danced in her fingers, as she spun it around and around; thinking, plotting, waiting.

     "Give up!" Koschei laughed once more. "You are no match against me."

     There was silence, a couple of them before her glancing to one another until...

     Azriel. "No, we aren't. But she is."

     His eyes were fixed on her, a silent command hidden amidst them and she understood.

     Lilah drove Truth Teller across her father's face in a deep, long slash before sliding to the opposite side of the battle, a giant wall of great white light flowing in between them. A wall of great beauty and allure, soft harmonies singing from within. The power of a lightsinger at its highest peak, the side none other lightsinger knew how to handle, to wield.

     How Azriel figured it out...she had no clue.

     "Go!" Lilah shouted atop the loud crash of her father's power against her, the blizzard of darkness swirling before her, the breeze of her own light before her. "I won't be able to hold it long. Go and save yourselves while you can."

     Thesan's voice was shouting for her and then...nothing, as if someone had winnowed him away. Another couple whizzes of winnowing before...

     A light smack, as if someones hand hit against someones shoulder. Then Rhys' voice, "Az."

     "Go." Az told him, a darkness lay beneath those words...a warning not to stop him.

     Vibrant blue power shone as bright as her own to her right, a great power joining hers against Koschei. Lilah turned her head, watching as Azriel stood at her side with one hand stretched out, blue siphons blaring as they unleashed whatever great power he possessed. It felt cold, like her own, and strong, like her own.

     "I told you to go." She shouted over the great noise.

     Azriel didn't look at her, still focusing on the fight. "You'll have to kill me if you want me to let you stand here alone."

     She paused, watching him--different to anyone other time she'd looked at him. His eyes met hers briefly and that's when she realised she was smiling at him.

     The ground shattered, as if Koschei had split the earth to win this fight. Both walls of power fell, Lilah feeling her legs sweep from beneath her but before she could hit the ground, or before Koschei's power could strike, Azriel's hands gripped waist and shadows blended around them.

     They fell to the ground, somewhere different to where they'd been before. Winnowed...Azriel had winnowed them out.

     She lay beneath him, watching as he hovered above her, his breath ragged and his eyes bewildered. 

     “You had me.” Azriel panted. “You could’ve killed me back there. Why didn’t you?”

     Lilah swallowed, still gazing up at his beauty and whispered, "Because...you are my mate."