A Court of Storms and Ash

Chapter 1

Wind thundered through the evergreen trees and blew snow into Cassian's face as he flew between the pines. Whenever he made the trek up to this forgotten camp he made sure to test his agility in the thick forest. The course had given him an advantage over the other young warriors before Rhysand's mother took him in. He forced back the rage that threatened to surge through him as he remembered why she'd taken him in, at the fury towards the camp he'd been born in, and what they'd done to his own mother. The Illyrians might be his people, but Cassian did not have any problem punishing those who disobeyed his orders, or the orders of their High Lord. The females needed to be equal to the males. Or what happened to his mother would happen again. And again. And again.

The wind scraped against his sensitive wings, but Cassian simply clenched his teeth and tucked his great wings in to dive through two trees. The pine needles brushed his leathers as he shot between the trunks and spread his wings against the wind once more, catching a current and sailing up and over the next thicket. The mountains rose before him, and Cassian banked to the right and back towards a gaping gorge in the rock. He drew his shoulders back and prepared to dive into the crevice, where his wings would barely fit.

Cassian, I need you back at the camp. Rhys muttered against Cassian's mind. The gorge would have to wait. Cassian swept his wings wide again and was soon landing with a spray of snow at Rhysand's right sides. Lord Darrow was facing his High Lord with a sneer on his face, one that sent Cassian into a murderous calm beside his equally enraged brother.

"The girls cannot keep up with the boys. They are holding up training for everyone," Darrow whined with knives in his tone. This camp was the furthest along with getting girls into the training rings, but that wasn't saying much.

"Then give them more time. The boys could stand to learn a few chores. Who knows? Maybe it will help with their technique," Cassian countered, not needing to ask Rhys what he thought was best. Cassian would always be grateful to his brother for the support he gave at meetings like this. The reminder that Cassian was General, and had the blessing of the High Lord to give orders as he saw fit. Though the Illyrians still would size him up, itching for a fight with a bastard. After the females were fit to fight, that would be the next thing to change.

"The boys are still trying to heal from the horrors they've suffered in the past few years. You would ask that I insult them by asking them to do the laundry?" Darrow challenged, unfolding his wings and tucking them back in.

"Perhaps the laundry will help them work through those scars more productively than the training would," Rhys suggested, a slight frown on his face. He felt as guilty as I did about the losses suffered during the war with Hyburn. So many were lost. We had to be careful about how hard we pushed the legions, even six years after that final battle. There were still a few Illyrians who spread mistrust to those who would listen. Those who would dessert or try to mount a rebellion.

That scared the hell out of me. I knew it scared Rhys too.

"If you would rather not spend the time with the girls, send them to the Bristling Pine camp. We will train them there and have them back to you within a year." The new camp had been Azriel's idea; a place for the girls to get stronger without the sneers or males to keep them from focusing. Cassian has volunteered himself and Nesta for training the females, though Rhysand had asked what Nesta could contribute except those cruel sneers she kept plastered on her pale face. If the Illyrian females learned to get over a fear of Nesta, they would be the most fearless warriors of the legions.

The small first class to go through Bristling Pines had been from each of the camps. The camp lords had each offered one female they thought they could spare for a year and once those females came back, they were instantly put back to work as seamstresses and cooks. As soon as Cassian had discovered their treatment, he had called all the camp lords together and outright bellowed at them. Some had stood their ground as his blood red siphons flared, but most had pales as his canines flashed at their slightest snicker. So Rhysand suggested a choice for the graduating classes: stay at the Bristling Pines camp and help teach the next classes, or return to their home camps. Just over half chose to stay and continue to learn and train. Those who chose to return found time to train the youngest girls whenever the camp lords neglected to make time for them in the ring.

Lord Darrow brushed his siphoned hand through his mid length chestnut hair with an exasperated sigh. Rhysand's eyebrows crinkled together slightly. Not a fight for today. Not over formality. Not when this male had allowed them to train when others had not.

"I will offer the females the choice. Will you respect them if they choose to stay?" the camp lord offered.

"Call them here. We can ask them together," I ordered. Away from the demands of the males. Darrow nodded and sent the order through the camp.

"Good call. Giving the males a chance to make the females stay would undoubtedly sway some decisions," Rhys said quietly, not looking away from the camp before him. He kept his wings tucked against the cold, the Illyrian leathers gone in favor of more formal regalia. His eyes remained steady, even if I could see the storm of power he kept on a leash. Rhys could level this whole camp if he chose to. The Illyrians would be wise to remember that.

"Do we know how many females are in this camp? Wouldn't want Darrow to neglect to tell a few he wants to keep close."

"28 females in this camp who are able to be trained," Rhys replied quietly. So many had been clipped right after that first order had gone out that females were to be trained. The traditional families would rather risk the wrath of their High Lord than see their daughters trained. "We still have much to do to quiet the rebellion spreaders."

"Getting the females together seems to be helping a bit. Teaching them to fight will help boost the strength of the legions as well as the strength of their loyalty."

"Provided the females aren't the ones spreading the negativity. It helps to have one camp at a time up there but if we continue to grow, we will need to increase our class sizes," the High Lord reminded his General. Rhys was more suspicious than ever these days; he was just waiting for the mortal queens to make their move.

"How's Feyre been? We haven't had a family dinner in months," Cassian asked gently to change the subject.

Rhys smiled a bit. "She is doing well, her studio has a steady group of teachers and an ever-growing group of students. Their paintings are finally starting to get brighter, fewer memories from the attack six years ago." Cassian remembered seeing some of those first paintings. Many children had painted dark shadowy shapes and portraits or missing parents in the initial years. The change in tone must feel like massive progress to the High Lady. She had even opened adult classes once the children became more comfortable.

The females started trickling out of their tents and gathered around Lord Darrow. Cassian and Rhysand walked over to the growing ring of Illyrian females and took their place in the middles.

"We offer you the choice to train and become part of the legion at Bristling Pines Camp. You will learn to fight as an Illyrian in one year of intensive training. Or you can stay here and scrap for a few hours of training per day," Cassian called out, voice even and confident. The girls looked at each other around the ring, concern on their faces. They weren't used to having a choice.

Rhysand and Cassian waited for the first volunteer. And waited. And—

"I will go to Bristling Pines Camp!" called the first female, a small, dark haired female with a faded scar across her left cheek and the bridge of her nose. Cassian knew Rhys was wondering how she got that scar even as they both assumed it was from the female's father.

"And Bristling Pines Camp will be proud to host you," Rhys replied, looking around the ring for the next volunteer. At the conclusion of the meeting, 21 of the 28 girls volunteered to train at the new camp, more than Cassian or Rhysand could have even hoped for.

"Pack your things," Cassian ordered, "and be ready to fly in two hours time."