Shadowsinger

Chapter Fifteen-The Advisor

^^imagine this, but with ink swirls rather than flowers. You'll know what I'm talking about. ;)

The fight goes on as we clear the palace, then move out into the streets. We're all covered in blood, our own and others, along with bruises and cuts from battle. Mor and I walk the streets searching for Hybern survivors to strike down while Feyre takes a rest. No other fae dare poke out their heads as I stalk the streets, but a few peek out when the sunlight glints off Mor's reddened gold hair. When we've finished with this section, I look to the skies before realizing who I'm looking for. Of course, I don't find him near us. My eyes lower as I sigh and look over to Mor approaching Feyre who looks stiff as a board.

My brows furrow at the glassy look in Feyre's eyes before I guess that she's reached out to Rhysand. And not liked what she saw. Mor and I lock eyes and she doesn't need to ask for me to flap my wings and swallow my groan at the ache as I fly up to the nearest roof to make sure there's no one around them. My eyes and shadows are sweeping as I hear Mor call Feyre's name only to receive no response. Fear surrounds her though. I can smell it.

Despite myself, I reach for Azriel just to make sure I can feel him. Nothing. Not a whisper. Worry enters my heart even as I continue scanning the area around Mor and Feyre. The ships are starting to come in while Hybern is being pushed out. Mor calls Feyre again, but instead of getting an answer, she pukes to the side. Mor quickly guides Feyre deeper into the alley while I follow on the rooftops with my blades still out and shining with blood. They speak softly while I reach for Azriel again. "Azriel." A simple word, but the silence from the other end is deafening. "Azriel, so help me—"

"Kaira." The response sends relief as strong as an ocean wave washing over me. "We're well. Don't worry. Are you—"

"We're safe. We're going to find you all soon."

"Stay safe and come fast, then." He sends before the bond quiets. Sighing, I move down into the alley when Mor waves and we winnow back into the palace. It's a sad sight. Soldiers drenched in blood limp around the grand halls or are carried by the warriors that can still walk. Moans, groans, and yelps of pain are in the air and my shadows calm as if they know that it's not the time to dance. Mor, Feyre, and I wander the halls before the two next to me stop to stare at a male at the other end of the hall. Varian, going by Azriel's description. Mor's power slides between us while I step in front of both women with my wings slightly splayed. His eyes rove over me and there's a little shock to be found there, but more exhaustion than anything.

"He's in the oak dining room." He says and I lax slightly when it seems like this male is more friend than foe. Feyre nods and we keep close to her as she leads the way through the throngs of people. We only stop when she does and I'm relatively certain this he isn't who she thought it was. He's lovely. His silver armor is flecked with blood and gore, but his dark skin still shimmers with beauty like the sun on the sea. When his eyes lift and land on the three of us, they consider the two to my left with familiarity, but widen when he sees me.

"Leave us." He says as his eyes rove over the others in the room, then return to us. Everyone leaves without looking at him before he speaks again. "I heard you cleared the palace. And helped clear the island." He speaks quietly, but not without power.

"Your soldiers fought bravely beside us," Mor responds with a tilt of her head, but the male keeps his turquoise eyes trained on Feyre. I swallow the growl in my throat.

"I thought you came to finish the job. I heard Tamlin took you. Then I heard the Spring Court fell. Collapsed from within. Its people in revolt. And you had vanished. And when I saw the Illyrian legion sweeping in...I thought you had come for me, too. To help Hybern finish us off." Tarquin, for this is assuredly the High Lord of this court, speaks low and sharp. Mor is the one who answers.