Son of Night and Daughter of Stars

Chapter 38: The Sent

Artemis followed Delilah down, down, down into the cave. "Why are we here, Delilah?" 

"This is the last place we know for certain he was," Delilah said as she carefully maneuvered the stairs, her skirt clutched in one hand and the other on the wall. "We're looking for clues." 

Artemis didn't reply until they reached the bottom. Until the smell of Nyx's blood stuffed itself up her nostrils, so strong she put a hand over her mouth to cover her gag. "Don't see how we'll find anything new now." 

Delilah seemed unbothered by her comment, and the smell. She started forward into the cave, a fae-light held before her. Upon reaching the center, she kneeled and began dusting at the ground with her pale fingers. Artemis walked to stand beside her, curiously watching as Delilah carefully picked at the dirt. "What are you doing?" 

"Looking for... ah." Delilah sat back on her heels, smirking. "These." 

Artemis felt her eyebrow go up. "The Wyrdmarks? We've already seen those." 

"Must you be so unpleasant?" Delilah hissed, turning to glare at her. The emerald earrings dangling from her ears swayed against her neck.  Artemis hated seeing Delilah in such finery. It usually meant her father had been parading her around the court all day. 

"Sorry," She amended. "Why are you looking at the Wyrdmarks?" 

Delilah turned back to her work. "These marks are covered in Nyx's blood, his scent. Right?" Not waiting for her answer, Delilah pushed on, scooting on her knees to uncover more marks. "But I don't think they were written in his blood." 

"Why would you think that?" Artemis asked, finally joining her to help uncover the marks. She saw Delilah's cheeks darken out of the corner of her eye.

"I can... smell someone else," She admitted. "Something that's smothered by him, but not hidden completely." 

Artemis knew Delilah hated talking about her more animalistic traits. A side effect of her father's shape-shifting power and her mother's raw, untamed Autumn court magic combining. Artemis didn't know who Delilah's mother had been. The female had died not long after having Delilah, and Artemis had never had the pleasure of meeting the woman who'd turned Tamlin away from his hate. She imagined she'd been quite the beauty, to catch the High Lord's eye. But there were no pictures. No paintings, no memory of her anywhere in the Spring Court. As if Tamlin wanted to forget her entirely. 

Delilah insisted that this was not the case. Though she and her father often fought over Delilah's future, he was still her father, and she loved him. She often told them that Tamlin had no memories of her in the court simply because they had so little time together. Artemis didn't know what to believe, but she knew the Spring Court was worse off once the Autumn female had died. 

Through the combination of her parent's powers, Delilah had inherited something... different. She couldn't shapeshift, but from an early age, she'd always been able to hear more, smell more, see more than anyone else her age. Not even to mention her wild temper that often ended in brawls. The nearest Artemis could figure, Delilah held more power than even she might know. A raw, unchecked power that, if she wished it, could be used for anything she could imagine. 

It reminded Artemis of what she'd been told of Erilea's raw magic, actually. Though Delilah's power had never manifested as anything concrete, Artemis thought she saw her eyes glow when she got angry sometimes. Thought a flicker of flame danced on her fingertips when she shouted. Perhaps if Tamlin had listened to Feyre and Rhysand, he would have trained Delilah when she was young. Sadly, it seemed he had not learned from some of his past mistakes. 

Delilah brushed aside another mark, her nose flaring slightly. "It smells vaguely familiar, but I can't place it. Can you smell it?" 

Artemis leaned forward far as she could without pressing her nose to the ground. She sniffed, trying not to inhale dirt. After a moment, she thought she detected a faint scent. Something sharp and wet that left an odd tang in her throat. "Yes. It smells sort of like... snow?" 

Delilah's eyes sparked. "That's what it is. I knew I recognized it." She stood, dusting off her clothes as she did. "Illyrian, maybe?" 

"No," Artemis snapped. "Delilah, I don't think this was the work of the Illyrians anymore. Skilled as they may be, none of them possess the knowledge or ability to use Wyrdmarks. And what reason would they have to send Nyx away?" 

"The who doesn't really matter right now, anyway." Delilah turned away, rubbing her hands together against the chilled air in the cave. "It's the why we need to worry about. The how."

"Alright. So what do we do now?" Artemis asked, annoyed. She fidgeted with the white ribbon tied around her forehead, the ends braided into her hair. The stiff, burnt edges scraped over her callused fingertips. Artemis's heart ached as she remembered the day she'd earned that ribbon. Amandla had burned those edges herself, then tied the strip across her brow with unnerving gentleness. 

"You are truly a Valkyrie, now," She'd said, kissing Artemis's forehead and squeezing her hand. Artemis had never felt more pride than that moment, surrounded by her sisters-in-arms with her lover beside her and Katra and Nyx behind her. She would do anything to bring that feeling back. 

"Now... I want to try something." Delilah drew the knife sheathed at her waist, clutching it in her hand. Artemis felt a brow raise as Delilah extended a hand. "Give me your arm, Artemis." 

"Why?" Artemis asked, suspicious. "You need my blood? For what?" 

Delilah beckoned her impatiently. "If someone used Nyx's blood to open a gate, I see no reason we can't do the same thing. Give me your arm."