A Court of Shadows and Scars

• Chapter Eight •

⁌ 𝑨 𝒁 𝑹 𝑰 𝑬 𝑳 ⁍

I arrived in my old rooms at the palace. As always it was covered in dust with a chill in the air. Despite it being day, storm clouds hovered over the city, basking the Court of Nightmares like a shadowy night-thunder could be seen in the distance, following the tapper of rain.

I roamed through the castle, down to the lower levels where I did some of my best work. Usually I would've winnowed but the dungeons had wards to prevent people like me or Rhys from doing so. So the stairs it was.

Inside each cell was a person touched by my sadistic mind, all torture victims in their own unique right.

Rapists, murderers, gang leaders, and terrorists-not all of them were from Night Court either, in general, this prison hosted some of the most dangerous criminals to ever get on Rhy's bad side. And when the time came, when they had outlived their usefulness, I would be their executioner.

I made my way into the second floor down in the dungeons-I had a little office here where I kept the more gory cases of my work. Inside it was dark, just like how the shadows liked it. There were a few torches I had to light but then after that it was still dim. My office smelled of old paper, dust, and ink-since training the Valkyries and keeping tabs on our new and old enemies my trips to this place had been scarce. For months now I was thinking of setting up shop in the Townhouse since no one but Lucien occasionally uses it.

He had mentioned to me once before that Vassa's old master, Koschei, had loosened his leash on her and since then has seemed to disappear. It all seemed strange to me, but it wasn't my job to oversee affairs with the human kingdom, though the thought of Lucien trying to wrap his small head around that mystery was amusing of itself.

The young banished prince of Autumn Court had once told Feyre that he would like to show his human friends the blistering city of Velaris. I thought it was an utterly repulsive idea-Vassa, sure. She seemed quite alright herself, with a fiery spirit that reminded me Mor in the throes of war back in the day. But Jurian-I wouldn't be too sure if he would ever be welcomed over the wall. His efforts against Amarantha would be praised by some, but he was also manipulative in his ways-no fae would trust him. Brining him into Velaris might be seen as a threat, and these days Beron would do anything in order bring Rhys down a peg or two.

Though I also understood Lucien. Now a days, the only reason he came back to Night Court was to inform Rhys about his alliance with the human queen and also check up on Elain, who was always less than interested in his efforts. Other than Feyre, I don't think he had any true friends left in Prythian. After being totally kicked out by Tamlin who galavants in the woods in beast form, Lucien was like a sad mumbling twat.

I would feel pity for him but it was also partially his fault that his relationship with Elain was so sour-I sometimes wondered what would've happened if he sided with Feyre in that moment before Elain was pushed into the Cauldron. Instead, he blindly followed Tamlin and sided with Hybern instead. After that happened the Mortal Queens proceeded to want to test out the Cauldron after Nesta and that sniveling queen turned into an old hag which then in turn became a problem for me that Rhysand put in my hands.

Gwyn was right invite me to eat with her because I surely needed the energy to get through these next few hours.

I sat in my chair, roaming my eyes over file after file. Crimes as of late, missing persons and dead people left in alleys-all low-born citizens that could've been a direct result of the organized crime that the aristocrats always turn a blind eye too. At least that's what I would've thought if the mastermind behind all these acts wasn't a professional-a foreign one at that. Most of his moves are slick, his fighting style was not one I familiar with either. The people in those gutters aren't trained fighters, they just go off of instinct. But this guy, he is definitely an agent of some kind.