A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 63 - Sin and Misery

"It is better to risk saving a guilty person than to condemn an innocent one."

- Voltaire

Song: House of the Rising Sun - Audiomachine

She heard Azriel cry out for her to wait, but ignored him, rearing back her own dagger to match Graysen's. Ready to meet his obvious attack exactly like Azriel had taught her.

Graysen brought the dagger down and Gwyn brought hers up, blocking him.

Gwyn searched the archives that were her mind for what felt like minutes and found Azriel's words.

"Twist your wrist and hook the dagger around my arm..."

And Gwyn did, shifting Graysen's dagger away from her face.

"Good. Now use your whole body to pull my arm down. Twist into the movement."

She shifted her hips and brought Graysen's arm down. The lord was parallel to the ground now, his face pointed towards the earth.

"Now use your free hand to brace my shoulder..."

Gwyn pressed her palm flat against the Graysen's back

"Now shove me down. Lean all your weight into it."

With a grunt, Gwyn pushed the man further down, till he sank to a knee, head close to her thighs.

"Now, you can bring the blade to my throat."

Trying to control her shaking, Gwyn brought the blade down to the Graysen's throat.

"Alright. I'm dead."

The lord was now at her mercy.

But could she really kill him? Despite everything he'd done, could she murder this man? He was evil, but was it up to her to determine his fate—

"I'll make this offer once," Graysen panted lifting his head and drawing Gwyn's gaze to his. The expression on his face was calm, serene, a lord assessing his final options. Azriel stalked to Gwyn's side, his short sword poised on his arm. Graysen's cold blue eyes darted between the two of them. "You might have the numbers but we've got plenty of Hybern's faebane to keep you all down as long as we need to claim this court. And we've got Elain... who is predicting your every move." He dropped his dagger and placed his hand over his heart. "I will call this off now, if you both agree to serve me. You, Lightsinger, can forget about getting the High Lords to submit and instead pledge to me." He looked at Azriel. "And you, Shadowsinger, can be with her, I know what she is to you. I will let you remain at her side and forget you murdered my father if you promise your services to me."

It would be so easy to end Lord Graysen's life while he kneeled there, utterly defenseless. Gwyn found herself surprised that his men did not stop their fighting when their master was in such a state. That they did not yield or drop their weapons or even converge upon Gwyn and Azriel for having their leader at the tip of a dagger.

Instead they continued to roar and fight the fae, firing bane-tipped arrows, spears, and launching incendiary pouches that sent up clouds of blue everywhere.

Azriel picked up Graysen's fallen dagger, examining the blood on the tip. His nostrils flared and his eyes flicked to Gwyn. "It's Rhysand's blood."

Gwyn gripped her dagger tighter, fixing Graysen with a fiery look. "Did you kill him?"

Graysen's expression flickered. "No. But I got a lucky blow in before I set off to find you."

"Where's Elain?"

For a moment, Gwyn wasn't sure why she asked. Why she bothered. Elain was the cause of all this. She'd been content to see her sister enslaved to a madman just to reclaim a love that hadn't been there to start with.

But Elain was also a survivor, struggling to find her way. She was stumbling her way down a path of recovery.

No two paths were the same and perhaps Elain's was wrong and bloody and needed to be met with brutal consequences... but nobody, particularly somebody who was lost, deserved death.

"Last I saw the bitch had scrambled away from her sister," Graysen bit out.

Well, almost nobody.

Gwyn's eyes flashed. She nicked Graysen's throat with the dagger and the lord yelped. Satisfied with his brief display of fear, Gwyn twisted her wrist and rammed the hilt up into Graysen's chin. He slumped to the ground unconscious. Defenseless.

"He wasn't lying," Azriel said, tossing Graysen's dagger to the earth. "With our force's magic depleted and Elain, they have the advantage." He pointed to the limp form of Lord Graysen. "We could use him for bargaining. To make everyone leave."

Gwyn glanced around them at the battle that raged on.

On and on despite two fae standing over the fallen body of the human's leader. This battle ran deeper than Elain's desires to be with the man she loved or Graysen's ambition to have a Mortal Court. This battle was a grudge that had been temporarily mended to forge an alliance. What the humans wanted now was not equality but revenge. A revenge that couldn't be sated by negotiation or bargaining.

"I've looked at your painting, Gwyn, and it is clear that your power is great. Every choice I've seen you make, it all ends the same. You. Making them bend their knees."

Gwyn's breath caught. "Can you still fly?" she asked, facing the shadowsinger.

Azriel raised a brow. "I thought you agreed to fight with me."

Gwyn sidled up to the shadowsinger and sheathed Truth-Teller back to his leg. "I did, and I need your help."

A muscle in the shadowsinger's jaw ticked, he seethed at Graysen's prone form. "Can I kill him first?"

"This is bigger than him, Shadowsinger," Gwyn grimaced.

" Gwyn , he tried to..." her mate trailed off then exhaled sharply. He spat on the fallen lord's slumbering face. "Let's go."