She brushed Lilith's hair back, singing a soft song that she used to sing for Madalyn when she was younger and would cry. But the girl did not cry; she stayed quiet, as if she'd been trained not to make a sound. Her wings fluttered across the bed as she drifted into a silent, squirming sleep. She had a feeling the girl had never been sung to sleep before.
Feyre inspected her cuts in the quiet of dewy morning, the world outside the window wet and cool. She seemed to have a firm set to her lips, her shoulders strong.
"Are you okay?" she murmured, shifting slightly. Lilith clutched her loose shirt.
Feyre didn't glance up. "I'm fine." Eblis's fingers continued to brush the girl's hair, though she quieted her humming. Feyre proceeded to pull her tunic over her head. "What's going to happen today?"
She sighed. Right. Because she'd broken a prisoner free of their cell, without the Queen's permission. To Hybern, the High Lady of Night had gone missing. And she'd done it.
"Nothing good," she settled on. Lilith butted her head against her chest at that moment, and Eblis had to wonder after the girl. It seemed Lilith had been so touch-starved that she had yet to release Eblis, as if she understood and accepted that Eblis was to be her mother figure by the Queen's command and was too young to fear growing attached to people. Her heart throbbed, then, and she kissed the girl's forehead.
She continued, "I will probably be punished."
"But how could they know it was you who freed me?" Feyre asked, sheathing a few choice knives into her outfit.
"They don't need to know," she replied, "they just need an excuse. A reason to point a finger at me-and I'm sure they'll find it." Eblis wrapped Lilith in a blanket and extricated herself from the girl's grasp, similarly beginning to clothe and armor herself as Feyre did. Her Spymaster's armor slipped over her like a second skin, the metal monochrome black, the cape an even darker shade. Her hair had grown just long enough over her month in Velaris that she pulled as much as she could into a short puff of a ponytail. She covered the darkness beneath her eyes with a fine powder, masking her sleepless night of staring at Lilith and questioning how this day was going to pan out.
"I'm most likely going to be whipped," Eblis said into the quiet.
Feyre nodded with a grimace, as if realizing the full implications of her words. "And I will have to watch."
"You will have to do nothing," she added. She checked her weapons. "Stay in the shadows and do not break free of them no matter what. A prisoner going missing is one thing, but to allow that prisoner into her throne room is a completely different situation."
Feyre's eyes closed, but she nodded again nonetheless.
Eblis sighed, turning to watch Lilith sleep fitfully. She added, after a few moments, "A few of my spies have made it back to Hybern. Imillion and Requeza are already aware of the basics. Are you sure you want the rest of them to know?"
"You can trust them, Eblis." Feyre placed a hand on her shoulder-the first time they'd touched since...since they'd shook hands, picking a gift out for Elain. "From what I've seen, they're all incredibly loyal to you."
"Yes." She mulled over the words, but both her shadows and Imillion chose that moment to warn her of someone coming to her room. Eblis pushed the Peregryn away before waving a hand to Feyre with a silent warning. The female was thus whipped into darkness.
Eblis picked up Lilith, careful of her wings, and set her upon her High Lady's cot the same moment her door popped open. She stood and faced the newcomer.
"Anastasia."
"General-Spymaster."
They both stared at the other, one dressed in armor, and the other in a fine green mess of tulle and chiffon. Far too grand for a handmaiden's gown.
She casually stepped to her desk and sat down, pulling a book forward to scan. A blatant show of disinterest. "What has the lap dog come to yap?"
Anastasia's painted lips twitched with a snarl. "Your prisoner has gone missing, General-Spymaster."
Eblis made a show of pausing, sliding a scathing glance to the female. "Missing?"
"Yes," the handmaiden replied, shoulders straightening, "the Queen requires your attention." An ugly sneer split her perfect face, red-gold curls swaying with movement. "Something about the guards falling asleep," she added tauntingly. As if she were to be frightened by the words.
Eblis turned back to her book, actually taking a moment to read it's words as she thought hard on what to say. Distracted, she recognized the words and dialogue of a fictional character, before remembering what the book was about. She stared at the pages in a rare moment of forlornness. Azriel would've liked the book, she realized.
Eblis snapped it shut. "Why are you still here?"
Anastasia straightened in her doorway, dark eyes flashing with indignation as her hands fisted in the front of her puffy gown. One of her cats yowled, and the female didn't even try to hide her look of disgust. "Lilith must be present," she huffed finally, and then turned on a heel, exiting the room. She rolled her eyes, even though a small spike of fear ran through her.
Lilith must be present. Why?
Nothing good, she was sure.
And it was at that moment that she realized it was very likely Lilith would become a festering wound in her side that everyone in Hybern would be able to poke at. She would be Eblis's open mouth in a place full of poison. Her mouth tightened and she mentally cursed.
Still, she drew to a stand and shook the girl awake. Lilith's eyes flashed open in a glitter of twilight before relaxing when they recognized her. She dressed herself quickly in more of Madalyn's old clothes before silently walking alongside her, not questioning where Feyre had gone. But Eblis knew the female stalked them in the shadows.
She forced herself not to grip onto Lilith's hand, instead utilizing her shadowed felines to guide her and show her small bits of affection. As soon as the doors to the throne room opened, however, they slipped back and waited patiently.
Music played. It was fast and strong, the notes flying across the room far quicker than a baby Illyrian could bat their wings, people in wide dresses and finely tailored suits twirling about perfectly in time with the sound. Even the advisor's table on the right had been mostly vacated in favor of dancing, warm lights splaying across the room.
Then, and only then, did Lilith slip closer to her and grip her pant leg, eyes watching the festivities with a small inkling of fascination-as it seemed she did with all beautiful, or interesting things that might've only been Eblis's average situation. She looked away and faced the Queen in her throne, blue skin graced with a pale tangerine dress like the sun. The Queen, too, eyed her.
Eblis forced herself to nod her head in a bow before threading her way to the bottom of the dais, where she formally kneeled as people swirled around her. Lilith pressed her head to the slightly warm ground-all rugs having been removed for dancing-as the room startled into a silence.
"General-Spymaster, you may rise."
She did, her chin high and back straight. Eblis would not bely herself to the court or to young Lilith, whose mouth became a small line as she told her, mind to mind, that she was to be absolutely silent and still until they left the room.
"You would not happen to know where my daughter is, would you, General-Spymaster?" the Queen said, voice like a stagnant pond that reflected the sky with beautiful clarity. No emotion, but still a voice to be listened to. The surrounding fae seemed to sigh in agreement.
Her eyes darted to the smaller, empty throne next to the Queen's. Madalyn is out in town again. Reneau, at the throne's side, narrowed his gray eyes and stared at her hard. A bolt of fear ran through her, the realization that people might become suspicious forcing her mind into action.
She forced her gaze forward, masking herself. "I do not, your Majesty. But my spy, Imillion, is with her. I'm sure she is simply enjoying a day out in the town, getting to know her people." She prayed he was not in the room at that moment.
Reneau tapped a finger on the arm of the Queen's throne, as only he or Anastasia could do. His dark, gold embroidered tunic whispered with sound. "And what of your prisoner?"
"I do not know where she is either."
A long look meant to shatter bones trained on her. "The guards were found sleeping in the dungeons last night, too. They are under your jurisdiction, General-Spymaster."
"I'm sure," she replied with equal lethalness that made Reneau's gray eyes tighten with warning, "they were put to sleep by whoever got my prisoner out."
The Queen waved a pale blue hand, their conversation cutting off. "No need to argue. You should've put a better guard on your prisoner, General-Spymaster. I know Princess Lilith is here"-an emotionless smile to the child-"but that doesn't mean you get away unpunished."
That's why.
That was why they wanted the girl present; so that she could see Eblis be humiliated. And why a court of fae had been gathered to entertain the Queen.
"Yes, your Majesty. Of course." She didn't think twice-forced herself to-as she unclasped her cape and began unlatching her armor. "What would be my punishment, my Queen?" she said gracefully, stoically. A marionette being pulled on invisible strings.
Crushing diamond eyes landed on her, searching her face. "It is but a small incursion-the prisoner was broken as promised, so it matters not if she was retrieved." Curt, no-nonsense words. One of her too-sharp nails tapped on the arm of her throne, Anastasia barely concealing her grin at her side. "I suppose ten lashes would be enough."
She bowed her head graciously. "Thank you for being merciful, my Queen. It will not happen again."
"It better not, General-Spymaster."
A lethal promise, one that crowned her head in thorns.
As she began to strip from the waist up, she couldn't help but to note Anastasia's slightly annoyed expression. It was clear that the female thought the Queen too nice for what had happened; a glance to Reneau surmised nothing, as he remained impassive. Eblis turned-bare-chested but for the bindings around her breast-to the rest of the room so her scarred back was bare for the Queen's canvasing-eye to scope out. Cold licked at her skin, but she focused herself on the intrigued eyes of the crowd. It was kneeling there on one knee, then, that she realized how alike these people were to the entertainment-starved Court of Nightmares. They watched with hunger, awaiting her punishment.
"General-Spymaster, are you forgetting something?" Anastasia's lovely, curling voice arose. Her eyes traced the stones beneath her knee and palm, stuffing herself within a mental cage. "Your wings, Illyrian," the female then said sharply. Her palm flexed against the suddenly cold ground.
You do not need them. You do not love them. You hate them. They are useless to you. She forced herself to reach for her magic, the words a chant in her mind. From the shadows, her wings rippled into sight, torn and scarred and battered. The sunlight elongated the shadow before her, until, from her view, it appeared as if her wings were whole enough to be used for flight. She held them up high, their dark image spreading over her and stretching towards that of Lilith, who watched with sudden horror.
She touched the girl's mind quickly, telling her to be quiet, to wait. She was met with anger and fear, and questions she couldn't answer. It seemed she'd already questioned their matching violet eyes; but the wings...the same ones that twitched behind the girl's back...they were the final puzzle piece she'd needed.
Her eyes closed.
"Stephen." She heard the fae step forward. "Grab the iron-tipped whip." The Queen's chilling voice filled the room, and it was followed by a small rustle of movement-like that of a dress. "Anastasia, you're always complaining about her. Why don't you do the honors of entertaining us tonight?"
"I would love to, your Majesty." Eblis could taste the coy smile in her words. Could hear it in the soft whisper of her gown as she accepted the whip from the male-Stephen-and descended the dais towards her.
Her steps echoed in the silence.
Eblis pressed her eyes closed and tried to control her breathing. Cold air brushed against her back, and she realized her back felt sensitive already, as if it knew what was to come. One of her hands touched the bindings that hid her breasts and the bargain marking between them from view, and she clutched onto the realization that she could not, in any situation, let that binding fall and reveal the tattoo on her chest. She would have to hold on to the fabric through the pain, even when it was torn and bloodied.
Fear had her stiffening although she knew she should relax. She took precious moments to do so, waiting while the handmaiden simply viewed her back and wings as if deciding where it would hurt the worst. And the soldier female, though tamed with dresses and jewels, knew exactly how to do that.
The whip cracked against her back.
She heard it before she felt it, and when she did, the impact sang through her bones. Her breathing shuddered, hitched, and smoothed out. Already it burned as if a thousand fires had been set on her back, and she could feel the blood dripping down. Lilith, as promised, only shuddered but did not make a sound.
The crowd cheered.
The next one slanted across her wings so that her muscles shuddered and she lost her ability to hold it up, weak as they were. In a rare moment of mercy, Anastasia said nothing about it before the whip descended again.
A third time.
A fourth.
Her jaw ached from clenching it tight, from holding her screams behind her teeth. She hissed, darkness flaring unconsciously from the shadowed alcoves of walls. A murmur of surprise reached her now cotton-stuffed ears, her breathing shallow and uneven as if she'd gone for a rough run across the continent. She trapped her magic before the Queen could notice, before she could attempt to take it away with her faebane powers.
It was with one wing flared out across the floor, bloodied, and the other still raised across the room that she forced her gaze up. And found that of Requeza. The spy stood stiffly, not joining in the cheers, as she watched. Eblis did not feel embarrassed at her nudity, not as the whip sliced her back open and bathed her in red. Next to the olive-skinned female, she found the gaze of Patrasche, the spy that had infiltrated the Spring Court. And, next to her, was Yven-a hardy male with a fur-trimmed doublet and fine leather boots still cladding him from the Winter Court. He, too, stood imperiously, watching with a quiet anger only just visible in his one eye.
It was on the eighth lashing that, through a mouthful of blood where she had bit her tongue, she finally screamed.
The crowd rose in a jaunting cry, and her other wing fell to the ground weakly, twitching with pain. She was shaking with it, her eyes pressing tight to prevent the tears from escaping. Her people watched her; her daughter. She needed to be strong.
Eblis quieted everything within, stowing away herself until she was only bleakly present in the throne room. She promised, in her mind, that she would not scream this next time-that no noise would escape her. Not even a whimper. She refused to give in.
The minds of her Daemati Council hesitantly touched against her in worry, at least the one's present. She even felt the soothing brush of Imillion, though she had not noticed him there, watching as she was whipped. But Eblis only had the mental facilities to warn them to blend in as she had taught them before shaking their worry off.
So, on her ninth lashing, the three spies shouted, joining the crowd in their enthusiasm.
Good, she told them. Good, she told herself, when only spittle flew from her mouth. She rocked forward, however, and her hand braced her weakly. The other still clutched the bindings to her chest.
"Where should this last one go, my Queen?" Her breath rasped out of her, the weight of her wings making her muscles scream even louder than the pain that was already there. One more.
The Queen, briefly, pointed out an area that Eblis hardly listened to. The whip cracked across the room. She shuddered beneath the pain of it, head bowing forward.
It is done.
Eblis then rose on shaking legs, her wings still slanted across the floor as she turned and bowed silently to the Queen. Anastasia's fine green gown was splattered with blood, she noted.
At least the handmaiden would never be able to wear it again.
She tightened her grip on the bindings as she carefully bent and picked up her discarded armor and cape, her back hissing in pain. She refused to let her cats, or Lilith, or her spies get it for her. So, near-stumbling with pain, she gathered her stuff and walked with as much strength from the room as possible. She was met with leers, glares, and annoyance-they did not like that she remained resilient. She did not care.
Eblis was trailed by Lilith and her shadowed felines, and it was only in the emptiness of the hallway that she snapped her fingers and let her cats triple in size and brace her as she walked. Lilith stayed a good distance away, her gaze far as if she were entrenched in her thoughts. She did not blame the girl. A lot had happened.
Her back dripped a bloody path as she walked. She swore she could feel dead skin hanging loosely, her wings dragging across stone and rug. Brief interludes of morning light were enough to send burning across her senses, and when she finally made it to her bedroom, the first thing she did was close her blue curtains over the window. When darkness settled, the faelights flickered on, and suddenly she was being supported by Feyre.
***
The High Lady helped Eblis bathe; she held her up and poured the water over her back and wings. That water, cold as ice, ran red, and the female's short gasps of pain made her heart clench. She'd been whipped; for something she couldn't have controlled given their story.
Eblis had been whipped because she had saved her.
Feyre poured the last of the water over her, careful to keep her from falling, and found stacks of bandages in a cabinet of her bathroom. As if this were normal. Planned for. Prepared for.
Feyre couldn't help but wonder how she'd survived so long by herself. How she managed to bandage herself and continue to work and serve. Tears threatened her eyes.
No wonder she'd broken.
No wonder she'd betrayed them-if only to avoid a little bit of this pain.
"I understand now, Eblis."
A hiss of pain escaped the female as she threaded the bandaging up and over a shoulder. "Understand what?" she asked, her back very nearly convulsing as the fabric spread over her wounds.
"Why," she replied softly, watching the white already bleed into red, "you gave up."
Eblis didn't say anything, her scarred and torn wings filling up the tub. After a few moments, she worked up the strength to step out and onto one the sandy colored rugs in her bathing chamber, but not without Feyre bracing her.
"It is strange."
"What?" she asked, gently guiding the female into the bedroom.
"It is strange," Eblis continued, "to have someone...bandage me."
Feyre paused to read the emotion in her eyes. There was gratitude, pain, and something else. Something closed off and tight. She took a deep breath, sadness wrapping around her once more. "You are not alone anymore, Eblis."
"No," the female said, slipping a chemise over her shoulders, "I suppose I'm not."
***
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