Chapter Forty

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No one dared speak as we all stood gathered before the Town House, about to winnow to the Court of Nightmares. I hadn't seen neither Rhys or Azriel since last night. And sure enough, as he emerged silently from the shadows, Azriel's jaw had a deep purple bruise, the skin of Rhysand's knuckles also broken.

I did not give either of them a single passing glance after I made those observations. Going to the Court of Nightmares was awful enough. I didn't need to argue with either of them- or both- as well.

I could fell Azriel's eyes on me, and my body begged me to face him. But I did no such thing. Cassian, who stood beside me, leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I take you'll be flying with me tonight." He said, a grin on his lips.

I rolled my eyes. But yes, I would most definitely be flying with him. Cassian took my silence as conformation. "I hope I don't get punched in the face for carrying you," he said too loudly.

I scowled at him, and he laughed. "Please let's just get this over with." I sighed.

Cassian, surprisingly, obliged, opening his arms and crouching. I wrapped a hand around his shoulder and let him take me in his arms. Had it been anyone other than Cassian, I would have been embarrassed at the revealing dress I wore. For once, I had chosen it. A more simple gown, because I did not need to draw attention to myself tonight. It was a deep maroon, the fabric soft velvet that hugged my body. The sleeves draped below my shoulders, and the slit up to my hip revealed quite a bit as I walked. I'd left my hair to hang loosely to my waist, a crown ornate with black jewels sitting atop my head.

Half of my back was exposed, but I had gotten past the point of caring if my scars were visible. In fact, I wanted them to be. I wanted people to know that just because I was younger than all of my companions and had never fought in a war, I had endured more than meets the eye. That I was more than the High Lord's bastard younger sister, more than Amarantha's former auxiliary.

We flew behind Rhysand and Feyre, Azriel far off on our right. I relished the wind on my face, the moment of peace and clarity being in the sky provided. That is, before Cassian opened his mouth.

"Azriel won't stop giving me death stares," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "Then fly faster. »

"You know, I used to think Rhys had an attitude. Then I met you." I pinched his muscled arm, but felt a smile tugging at my lips.

I opened my mouth to shoot something back, but was cut off by a warning scream. It came from Azriel.

Surely enough, I looked up to see an arrow headed straight for my face- only a foot away. Cassian swerved harshly to the side, and I felt the arrow graze my skin. I gasped in pain, warm blood trickling down my arm. Cassian cursed. I gripped on tighter to him with my other arm, throwing up a shield around us. More arrows ricocheted off of it, the shield gleaming with vibrant violet light wherever they hit.

My head instantly turned to the side, and I leaned as far as I could, trying to see Azriel through the flapping of Cassian's wings.

"I'm going to drop you if you do that," the general said, his voice tight. Then he added, quietly, his eyes scanning the distance for the source of those arrows "he's fine. Are you?" His gaze slipped down to my bleeding arm, then back to searching for the attacker. His eyes were hard, no trace of the amusement that had been in them seconds ago. The face of the war General.

"Yes. It's just a small cut." I said. It was a small cut- but it was deep, and the arrow was covered in ash. I felt my power flicker, though my shield held perfectly, my arm burning in pain. Cassian nodded, grumbling to hold on. I did, closing my eyes as we shot for the ground.

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