A Court of Dreams and Promise

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Rhysand

Velaria kept screaming over and over again, shaking her mate's body, over and over again. Azriel couldn't be – he couldn't have.

Velaria yelled and screamed and roared, her pain world-shattering. One of Tamlin's tendrils of power had struck her, too, was sucking the life out of her, but she was shaking her mate's still body as if her life depended on it.

"AZRIEL. AZRIEL," Velaria roared, over and over, her throat thick with roaring sobs clawing to break free. "AZRIEL. AZRIEL."

The sound was unbearable, but there was nothing they could do, nothing any of them could do. They were stuck, rooted to the ground, forced to watch as each other died.

Velaria began to whisper frantically to her mate, her head now lowered to his chest.

Rhysand tried to call out for his sister, but failed, his voice gone.

Velaria froze. Her entire body went completely still. She stopped whispering, began to lift her head from her mate's chest.

Rhysand met his sister's desperate, terrified gaze. He saw five centuries' worth of emotions swimming in those violet eyes, the ones that mirrored his own. Five centuries worth of love, hatred, pain, agony, despair, all shone brighter than the stars flecked across the violet.

She mouthed, 'I'm sorry' and rose to her feet. Shakily rose to her feet, the last of her power leaching out through that tendril of Tamlin's power still wrapped around her waist.

Velaria pulled the dagger from the sheath at her side, the glint of the dagger all too familiar.

Truth-Teller.

His sister held Truth-Teller in all of its glory as she stalked towards the figure that had been Tamlin on shaking steps. How she had broken free of her bondings, or if she had even been bonded to the floor in the first place, Rhysand didn't know.

The figure didn't notice, was too busy reveling in its own glory with the power of all of the High Lords leaking into him.

Velaria looked at him one last time. He could practically see her power extending to him as it fought its way through the murky darkness.

No time, Rhys, she began, seemingly unable to complete full sentences. Tamlin has power, no power if Tamlin lives. I'm sorry. Love you so much, my brother.

And then she was gone, that opalescent bridge severed.

And Rhysand watched as Velaria shoved Truth-Teller through Tamlin's back, piercing his heart. She twisted the blade, and Tamlin collapsed. The darkness fell back, the tendrils stopped siphoning. The golden figure faded away to reveal Tamlin.

His power began to fade back as more and more of Tamlin's blood spilled onto the marble, the High Lord of Spring choking on his own blood as he coughed.

Tamlin was dying.

Rhysand ran across the marble to help Azriel stand, the Shadowsinger's knees trembling. "You're alive," he murmured, in pure shock. "You're alive."

"I was never dead," Azriel croaked. "Close to it, but never dead."

Rhysand furrowed his brow. "Then–"

He never got to finish his sentence. Azriel doubled over, shouting out in pain.

Rhysand scanned the entire surroundings. He shouldn't be in pain, couldn't be, unless–

Azriel let out a furious roar just as Rhysand's gaze caught on his sister's body, wings out, lying next to Tamlin's.

They ran over to her in a panic.