roses and starlight | acotar

ii. windhaven

The mountain wind sliced through the valley that sheltered Windhaven, whipping Cassian's dark hair into a frenzied halo around his head. No matter how brutal the weather got up here, he was always relieved to return to the wilds—and the skies.

He leaned against the fence that separated the training ring from the rest of the camp, observing a group of young females as they exchanged blows, footwork poor and grip on their weapons unsure. It was clear that Devlon hadn't upheld his promise to increase their training time. Cassian made a mental note to talk to the camp lord later, so he could give him a piece of his mind. 

He supposed he was lucky that Devlon had agreed to postpone the clipping of the young females' wings, at least. There was little he could do if they were unable to take flight; Illyrians weren't made to be ground troops. 

Of course, it would be far easier to wrangle the various camp lords to his will if Rhys and Az had been by his side, but his brothers always seemed to be busy with other work. 

"It's not exactly our biggest priority at the moment, Cass."

"The camp lords will come around. Just give them time."

"Let's just win the war, first."

Always the same excuses, and they never even deigned to come along.

A couple of younger males at the other end of the ring jeered at the poor show, one making a particularly unsavoury hand gesture as the others laughed. A few of the girls looked uneasy, stopping and looking to Jovian, their instructor.

The older Illyrian merely shrugged, gesturing for them to get back to work. Jovian was maybe fifty years younger than Cassian, and they'd never really spoken outside of a few good-natured grunts. Out of the males these days, he was one of the few that the general considered decent.

Which was one of the reasons why it rankled to see him do nothing. 

Cassian pushed off from the edge of the ring, scarlet Siphons glinting in the noon light as he rolled his shoulders, making eye contact with the leader of the younger Illyrians. His hazel eyes narrowed a fraction, and the hotshot—wisely—backed off, his cronies following him.

Jovian noticed him and frowned, heavy eyebrows drawing together as he folded his arms. He jerked his chin to the girls, a signal for them to pack up, and made his way over to where Cassian now waited.

"Commander. The girls have trained, just as you requested. Do you plan on staying any longer, or are you returning to the High Lord?"

To the High Lord. As if he was merely a dog, at the beck and call of an outsider. Not that Rhys wasn't Illyrian himself, but it was a common sentiment among the war-bands of the Steppes that he wasn't to be considered one.

He bared his teeth in a forced smile, leaning against the barrier once more. "Are you really that keen to see me go? I have business here yet."

Jovian's eyes slid to a point behind Cassian's head, and the general glanced back.

"You're back."

The gruff voice of camp lord Devlon matched his rugged appearance perfectly. His wavy, dark hair was tied in a low ponytail at the base of his neck, and his steely grey eyes narrowed a fraction at Cassian's dishevelled appearance.

Cassian righted himself hurriedly, gesturing to Jovian. "Altamura was just telling me about the girls' training schedule. You've marked up every session required, but what I saw there was appalling. Either you've gone soft since the old days, or you aren't training them."

A furrow formed in Devlon's olive-skinned brow, huge wings fluttering in the breeze as he barely disguised a scowl. "Training has gone ahead as time permits, General." He spat out the last word like a curse, venom lacing his tone. 

And this camp was one of the better ones. Some had refused to comply entirely. 

The camp lord nodded to Jovian. "If you have any further complaints, see Altamura. He is in charge of the females." And with that, he strode away. 

A slight smirk touched Jovian's lips. "Well-handled, Commander. You had him running for cover there." 

Cassian gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "It's like trying to drink the ocean. I've barely made any progress." It was a miracle he'd even been able to delay the wing clipping at all. Since then, nothing he'd said had resonated with any of the lords. 

Jovian shrugged, hands clasped behind his back. "These ideals have been entrenched in Illyrian society for millenia. They will not be overturned easily." 

Cassian glanced back. "If only the camp lords would hear even a fraction of what I'm trying to say. I need more Illyrians on my side." He kicked at a stone on the ground. "Not even the females seem willing to pursue this."

"If my people had suppressed me for my entire life and given me no chance of escape, I might be wary of a new chance to train too. They likely think it's a trap, meant to weed out the more lively among them."

Jovian had a point. That much, Cassian had to admit. Even if he didn't like it.

"Is there any way you could convince them otherwise?" His tone lacked hope. He already knew the answer.

"Short of bringing in the High Lord, I'm not sure much of anything you did would change their minds. Illyrians are a stubborn lot - you know that as well as I." 

Cassian looked up to the sky. It was still clear, but the scent that swept in from over the mountains told him it wouldn't remain that way for long. He turned to face Jovian.

"Smells like a storm is brewing. I might stay the night before heading back." 

Something shone in the other Illyrian's fathomless eyes. "I'm sure we can find a place for you to sleep."

As he flashed back a sharp-toothed smile, he decided that the problem with the females could wait until the morning.