Shadowsinger

Chapter Twenty-Four~War

The next day we go to war.

Mor, Feyre, and I all winnow along with the legions of Illyrian soldiers until we crest the hill we'll be on for the duration of the battle. "SHIELDS." Cassian bellows and every burst of red is him, every blue Azriel's as the army obeys his command. They land before the sweeping army from Hybern and I barely breathe as I spot the distinct helmets of my three friends at the front lines.

Hours pass as battle commences and our small group barely says anything as we stare at the bloodshed. Despite the chaos, the armies keep to their lines as they work together to slice through the enemy. I see Feyre realize it the same time that I do; we haven't learned how to fight like that. Side by side, allowing those to either side of us to help us, and for us to help them. We would have been a weakness to exploit, but it doesn't stop me from desperately wishing I was out there.

I take a step forward when Cassian charges a mounted commander, then force myself to hold firm as the two approach one another. He's beautiful. Every move is practiced, precise, a dance, as I hear Feyre call it behind me.

"For him, that's what battle is. A symphony." Something clangs in me at her word, the same as what I called the first screams of the Raven's in the library. Music. My eyes don't break away from Cassian as he dispatches three soldiers that dare step in his way easily. Feyre curses behind me as I behold the truth of the soldier that had been training us both. I want to learn that. I want to be able to bestow death that well, that gracefully, that artfully, and I don't care if I have to train every day to achieve it. The dance is over when Cassian's spear slides through the man's chest before he plunges his steel right after. Hybern begins to turn and I can feel the fear rising off them like heat from a fire.

"It's over." Mor murmurs and I'm grateful despite the death that follows. I'm afraid I would see much more death to keep those I care for safe.

Afterward, it's time to move the camp again, but this time I remain there to help tend the wounded. The others see to the rest of the camp and I shake my head at stories of Cassian. No doubt they'll go to the general's head even if the facts are true. Perhaps he deserves it after battles like we've had lately. Even with no Illyrian deaths, plenty are injured and that makes for another tireless night of bandages, holding down soldiers, and fetching whatever else the healers need. I'm surprised to find Nesta alongside Mor, Feyre, and I helping out, but I dare not comment on it. We need all the help we can gather.

That night, once the screaming has stopped, I barely realize where I'm going as I stumble into a tent. I collapse onto the bed before smelling that signature scent that has come to calm me. "I'm in your bed. Where are you?" I ask Azriel sleepily over the bond.

"Unfortunately, I'm leading teams of scouts. We have to know Hybern's next move."

"But it's so much warmer and cozier in this bed." I can't resist teasing and get a low groan for my efforts.

"If I had a choice, I would be there." He says and I can hear the annoyance in his voice that he can't be.

"I understand. Come when you can." There's a soft caress over the bond that chases me into well-deserved sleep.

Four days pass and I see nothing of my favorite shadowsinger. We talk every day, but even those conversations are brief as he focuses on his task. On the fifth day, I'm getting concerned because I haven't a word from Azriel all day. I'm about to burst and mention it to Rhysand in the middle of the war-tent when the male appears of his own accord panting like he'd just flown over the world.

"Hybern has marched past us up between Summer and Autumn heading for the Winter court border." Everyone is immediately at attention at his words as he continues. "I've already sent word to Kallias and Viviane, but none of us know why they're marching there." He reports and it's clear that everyone else doesn't have a clue either.