A Court of Truth and Deceit

Chapter Eight - Rhysand

** Sukra pronounced as 'SOO-KRUH'

I was about to winnow to the Illyrian Steppes when Cassian called to me.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Feyre sent a message that Hybern and the Spring Court are sending troops to invade Velaris and the Summer Court. I need to get our defenses ready." Cassian was still lying on the floating bed that I'd charmed for him. The healers had said that he'd heal much faster without his wings, and they were optimistic that he'd be able to move about with little to no pain in another few days. No fighting though, they'd said. It would stretch and strain the muscles too much before they were ready.

"Let me come," he said. "You need me. I'm your army commander."

"You're on bed-rest, Cassian. You're not coming. And you're not fighting in the battle either, unless the Hybern trash has broken through our defenses, and I send you a message, during which time you may use whatever strength you have left to save as much of Velaris and our people as you can. Until then, however, you're staying in that damned bed. No excuses. Or else I'll make Azriel come by and watch you instead of Nesta," I threaten. He groaned, but didn't argue with me anymore.

Nesta and his relationship had improved significantly, to say the least. I suspected they were mates, but Nesta hadn't accepted the bond. Yet, she'd managed to keep him in a—relatively—sober mood most of the time. He hadn't stopped reminding us of his uselessness without wings, but at least he'd stopped screaming bloody murder for us to kill him.

And he'd started cracking jokes and being the vulgar, yet charismatic, Illyrian I knew again. To say that the rest of us was relieved was an understatement. What a charm Nesta, and all the Archeron sisters, had.

I winnowed to various Illyrian campsites that day, requesting a troop from each. Devlon, the bastard, sent me a half-trained women Illyrian group. Despite not being as well trained as their male counterparts, more than several of the women wore Siphons, and their bloodlust certainly rivaled the others by their snarls and wicked smiles.

By late afternoon, all of the Illyrian troops were in place. I'd sent five to the Night Court border with the sea—far enough from Velaris for them not to be affected by the wards, but close enough to protect it. I sent another three troops to fly to the border between Winter and Summer Court to hide. In the dead of the night, they'd fly over to the borders of Adriata, so that they wouldn't be captured by Tarquin, but they would be able to defend the city the next morning.

That night, I called a meeting to the House of Wind, informing my Inner Circle of the battle that was coming. Feyre had given us a warning, but not by much. There was much preparations to make.

Velaris had never been prepared for attacks. There were no safe houses, like other cities, and no underground bunkers. The best warning we could give our people was to advise them to stay in their homes until informed otherwise. No one wanted a bloodshed like the last time, and the first time, Hybern had invaded Velaris.

"I don't want the battle to be anywhere near Velaris. We start the battle at the sea, and we end it at the sea," I said. "I want you all to be at the cliffs. Leave the sky-fighting to the troops. Find a good vantage point, and get rid of any soldiers that make it past the Illyrians."

"And where will you be, Rhys?" Amren asked. I loosed a sigh.

"Summer Court. I have the feeling that even with the Illyrian reinforcements, it will not be enough. Hybern seeks to leave us with no allies, and that means scaring the other courts enough to not make them want to push back. He will strive to make an example of the Summer Court."