Azriel

Azriel's PoV:

She was his mate.

He knew that the moment he saw her.

He felt the unnerving urge to move closer to her than to observe her from the distance like he was trained to do.

Thank you so much, Az.

The words echoed in his head.

The first time she had called him 'Az'.

As if she knew him.

As if she cared.

The naga screamed as Azriel dug his blade deeper into its skin, shredding tendons and muscles in its wake.

"Who are you reporting to?" asked Azriel calmly, as the naga's blood splattered across his face.

"No one!" screamed the creature. "No one, now. We used to- to Amarantha. Your High Lord betrayed her before she died. We just wanted to see him."

"See him and what?" The naga stayed silent and Azriel dug his blade out and then wedged it between the naga's scaled fingers. He twisted it and the naga screamed again. "See him and what?"

"Kill him!"

With a smile, Azriel removed the knife and cleaned the blade.

Truth-Teller indeed.

He needed to report this to Rhys, why scum like the naga were running around the borders.

He let his thoughts flit to Cal.

Calypso.

Snowflake, he planned to call her someday, if she ever allowed it. She reminded him of snowflakes, unique and ethereal.

It has been two days since she left with Feyre for Spring Court. And then she would go back to her mortal world.

With his common sense, Az knew he would probably never see her again.

He also knew that even if he did, he shouldn't tell her that she was his mate. She didn't need that.

She didn't deserve that.

She had been tortured for five years and now she is free. She doesn't need to mate with someone whose entire life becomes a question mark if he even makes a small mistake.

Is there a limit to how many eclairs I can buy?

The question had made him laugh so hard. She had a sweet-tooth and she had tried almost every sweet thing at the shops.

Even though Rhys had asked her to buy whatever she wanted to and put it on the house credit, Az wanted to buy something for her.

He had bought her an entire box which contained six chocolate eclairs. And she had devoured them.

He loved watching her happily eating them while looking in awe at the shops and the various magical things that they had to sell.

The way she drank in the sights, it was obvious that she knew that it would be her last night in Velaris.

They are beautiful.

Cal had considered his wings to be beautiful.

Az had always been proud of his wings, but he never thought that somebody would call them beautiful.

When he had taken her to the nook under the bridge, it had taken everything within him to not put his arms around her.

She was shivering from the cold. But Az suspected it was from fear as she had looked behind her at the darkness.

She had been locked up in a dark dungeon for five years, of course she would be scared of small dark spaces.

But she was brave and didn't let it show.

So brave.

Braver than he had been when-

No!

He couldn't let the memories affect his work.

When Azriel arrived at the House of Wind, he found Rhys there with Feyre.

Feyre was a taller version of Calypso, with lighter hair and sharper eyes.

Her eyes reminded him of the soft brown of Cal's, how they lit up as the rain hit the Sidra.

"You didn't abduct her, did you?" asked Azriel as Feyre left for her room and Rhys was staring lovingly after her.

"No," said Rhys simply. "That monster had locked her up. And she had a panic attack. I destroyed the wards around the house and Mor got her out. None of the guards know what happened. For all they saw, Feyre just disappeared into darkness."

"And Cal?" the question had spilled out of Azriel's mouth before he knew how to stop it.

"I wanted to bring her here too," said Mor, walking into the room. "But she said she needed to stay, something about her disappearance making it obvious that Feyre was taken. She is sure that with Feyre gone, Tamlin will send her back to her uncle and sisters. She seemed alright."

Azriel nodded but a worried thought nagged at the back of his head.

Cal had taken a special potion from him.

Did she suspect that something would happen? Was she really alright?

The next few days drawled on as Feyre got better and started to train with Cassian. Rhys' form was off when it came to sparring.

Azriel could feel some hints of fear and uncertainty and loneliness which weren't exactly his and he realised that they were from Cal.

She had gone back to her family after five years, and hearing from Feyre what their family was like, Cal wouldn't really have a good time at the beginning.

It was one month later, when Az was flying along the borders of spring court, to check on Tamlin in case he wanted war for Feyre, when he felt it.

It was a massive wave of fear, so potent and undiluted that Az almost fell right out of the air.

And then the pain started.

He felt like his innards was being ripped out by a red hot hook which twisted and turned within his stomach. The pain made it difficult for him to breathe and he clutched at his chest, feeling the unnerving thrum of his erratic heartbeat in response to the pain.

With that, he heard a scream.

Her scream.

Az sat back atop a tree and looked. His gaze locked on Tamlin's mansion within the Spring Court. He was panting, trying to breathe through the sudden pain that he had felt, even though it was gone now as suddenly as it had started. But the shadow of the pain stayed.

Disturbing thoughts plagued his mind and he was filled with anger at the thought of his mate being hurt and tortured. Since Cal was human, her feelings wouldn't hit Azriel as much as it would if she were a fae. But if he was physically close to her, and if his thought crossed her mind, he would pick up glimpses. And if one glimpse was as painful as the one he just experienced- he shuddered at the thought of the actual magnitude of pain that Cal was in.

He decided to gather his network of spies that were posted deep within Spring Court.

No matter what Rhys said, he knew something was wrong.

It was only two weeks later that word came.

Azriel raced to find Rhys, he needed to tell him what was wrong.

When he found Rhys, he had to try so hard to not let the words get jumbled up with how fast he was trying to talk.

"My spies at the Spring Court have sent word, Rhys," said Az, trying to sound calm. "They have heard screaming from inside."

"Are you saying," Rhys said, his eyes darkening for a moment, "that Tamlin might still have Cal?"

"Yes. You said that she would be sent back to the mortal lands. Did you confirm it?"

"No."

"Well, something is definitely wrong. Feyre's maid, Alis, no longer works there, but she has told some people that she is worried about Feyre's human sister. According to word from the servants within the mansion, they are no longer allowed to enter the dungeon. They never entered the dungeon except for once a week to clean it, but there had never been a restriction."

"If Tamlin is keeping a human in his mansion and is torturing her, he is violating the Treaty."

"Given his history, I wouldn't hold that to be impossible."

"If Cal is in there, we need to get her out."

"The borders aren't sealed yet. But they are warded. If somebody winnows in, they will know."

"What about flying?"

"The wards will let us through, but there could be an alarm."

"I think its time to pay our floral-patterned Spring Court a visit."

Rhysand's PoV:

Azriel and Rhys prepared to visit the Spring Court the next day. Rhys hadn't told Feyre, he figured he would straighten things out a little before telling her.

Rhys winnowed Azriel right in front of Tamlin's mansion when he felt it.

The oppressive pressure on his mind.

Daematis.

More than one.

At least three.

And they had all been alarmed as an intruder had winnowed in.

"Keep the glamour on," said Rhys under his breath to Az. "And do not say a word. Keep thinking about our search for Cal. There are daematis around."

Rhys didn't even hear the confirming breath from the Shadowsinger as Az disappeared.

The door opened and Ianthe walked out, her head held high.

"What do you want?" asked Ianthe, arrogance dripping from her tone.

"I am here to see the High Lord of the Spring Court," said Rhys, walking ahead without even looking at her. He pushed her to the side and entered the threshold.

Rhys saw Tamlin sitting on a sofa with Lucien at his side. Two other women were there with them.

High Priestesses.

And as Rhys looked into their eyes, he realised that they were daematis.

But there had been a third-

"Get out!" Tamlin's voice broke the haze in Rhys' mind as he looked sharply at the golden-fleece-head.

"Now now, Tamlin," said Rhys with a particularly feline snarl. "Didn't your mother teach you manners? Is that how you greet guests?"

"You are no guest of ours."

"Well, you might be right. But you have something that is mine, that makes me a guest. Or would you rather call me a collector?"

"You have something of mine as well." Tamlin growled at Rhys and stood up. Lucien stood behind him but Rhys thought that he looked a little disturbed.

"Lets just cut to the chase, Tamlin. Where is Calypso? I got word that she wasn't returned to the mortal world."

Azriel's PoV:

Rhys was good at acting indifferent. It made sense why he was the High Lord.

Azriel could smell Cal very distinctly. And he knew Rhys could too. How he stayed so calm about it was a mystery.

"Feyre's sister," continued Tamlin, "is under my care."

"What exactly do you define as care?" asked Rhys with snarl.

"The mortal," interrupted Ianthe, standing beside Tamlin and putting a hand on him as if she was trying to calm down her golden-haired bull. The sight made Az want to vomit. "She has seen the rival court. Not to mention, she had been living with Tamlin's enemy for five years. We just want to make sure that she is ready for the outside world. Mortal minds are- you know- very fragile."

"Living with the enemy? Tamlin, she wasn't living with Amarantha. She was captured. And tortured."

"According to her," said Ianthe again. "We don't know what happened behind closed doors. And given that you are our only other witness to her accounts, I hope you understand why we have our reservations."

"Why are you letting your lapdog speak for you?" Rhys snapped and Az felt the vibration of energy around him. "Tamlin, I think you should put a leash on this mongrel."

Ianthe growled and Azriel thought he heard a chuckle from the direction of Lucien. The red-haired fae controlled his laughter much before anyone could confirm or deny.

"Feyre's sister," said Tamlin, "is safer with us than anywhere else."

"So why have you brought all these daematis here?" asked Rhys. "And why is she still here when Feyre had made it very clear that Calypso was to go home to her family?"

"Because she is not herself. She has been withholding information. Her mind has been compromised."

"By none other than you," chimed in Ianthe and a satisfied smile spread across her features. "Either Calypso is our enemy, or you have messed with that poor girl's mind to such an extent that she has no control over her thoughts. Your perversion knows no limits, Rhysand. And it has taken everything we have to try and purge her mind clear of all that you have done."

"Really?" asked Rhys, picking up an invisible speck of dust from his collar. "Is that what you have been doing? Helping her?"

"Help can look different to different people. We are helping her regain her true course in life."

"Where is she?" Rhys' question was less of a question but more of a demand.

"In the dungeons," said Lucien much too fast, as if he was waiting for someone to ask. As if he wanted someone to ask.

And the look that Ianthe threw at him assured them that Lucien was saying the truth.

He wanted Rhys to know.

"She has seen the Night Court with Feyre," said Tamlin. "But unlike Feyre, she has refused to say anything. Even after her sister was taken by you."

"Feyre wasn't taken," said Rhys calmly. "I think she made that very clear in her letter."

"Bullshit! She didn't write that letter! She would never write an abomination of that sort! You have her under your control, just like you have Calypso. Which is why, even though her sister's safety was threatened, Calypso refused to utter a single word!"

Tamlin's arrogance made Az want to smash his head against the wall. The idiot was deluded enough to believe that the only reason Feyre would leave him would be if she was manipulated. As if he was so Mr. Perfect that a woman would never have a reason to leave him.

"And you have destroyed that little mortal's mind," said Ianthe. "Our daematis have only encountered darkness when they tried to pick up thoughts about you or your court. You have shrouded her mind in that dirty, tarry blackness that your own soul is made up of."

The way Ianthe kept saying 'little mortal' made Az want to impale her with the Truth-Teller. There was little concern and compassion in that name, and there was more of condescension and pride.

"I think," said Rhys, putting his hands back into his pockets, "Feyre would be very interested to know that her sister is now being kept in a dungeon."

"Maybe you should tell her," said Lucien and he again got shot that dirty look by Ianthe.

"I will release Calypso," said Tamlin calmly, "the moment Feyre walks back in through my doors. If you want your friend back, Rhysand, give me back my bride and end the bargain you have made with her. End whatever mind games you are playing with her, and then I will release Calypso."

"So, she is a hostage?" asked Rhys and the words made the hairs on Az's arms stand up.

"Maybe. But she is not a hostage for Feyre. She is a hostage for you. It is obvious that Calypso has some sensitive information on her, and she has spent some quality time with you when you were under Amarantha. I think the only reason why you could get into Feyre's mind was because Calypso helped you to it. If you want your mortal companion back, return me my bride all safe and sound."

"Where is Calypso?"

"You try to break her out of here," said Tamlin, taking a step directly into Rhys' personal space, "and you will have war at your hands. I will not have the security of my court threatened again. And if you so much as try to get word to her behind our backs, we will sell her to Hybern."

Rhys took a sharp intake of breath and Azriel could feel his heart stop at the name. A mortal at the hands of Hybern, with potential information about the Night Court, was a dreadful disaster.

"You know Hybern's daematis can break through whatever spell you have put on her," said Tamlin, a gleam of satisfaction at Rhys' uneasiness spreading across his features. "I haven't talked to Hybern in a while, neither do I intend to, but if that is what it takes to get Feyre back, I will do it."

Tamlin had played his best card and Az knew that they were defeated.

There was no way they could get Cal out of here without shedding blood. And that would lead to war.

And he knew Rhys.

Rhys would go to the ends of the world to get his friends back.

"Fine," said Rhys and the withdrawal in his voice made Az flinch. He recovered fast enough to keep the glamour in place when they heard her scream.

The scream resonated from deep within the bowels of the house, the screams echoed within Azriel's heart and he knew he had to get to her. He knew he had to get her out.

"Do you really enjoy this?" asked Rhys and Az noticed how Tamlin looked paler. "I thought you were done torturing humans."

"I will do whatever it takes to get Feyre back," said Tamlin, his lips setting into a hard line.

"I did not take Feyre," said Rhys and he held out his hand towards Tamlin. "I can swear it by my blood."

Both Lucien and Tamlin straightened up in shock and Az noticed Ianthe's brows furrowing in confusion. A blood swear was serious and faeries never lied about it. And technically speaking, Rhys did not actually take Feyre. It had been Mor.

"Our people have seen enough," said Rhys and Az knew that was the High Lord speaking. One High Lord to another. "Please, don't bring war to them. And Cal has been my friend. I would rather see her die than falling into Hybern's hands."

Az froze in place. Rhys actually meant them.

"I swear to you," said Rhys, "by my blood. I will not break her out of here. Don't bring war and destruction to the people who have just found peace."

"What does a bastard's blood swear mean to us? You are just a whore, a lying-" Ianthe spit out but was cut short by Tamlin.

"Ianthe!" Tamlin warned, and Lucien smiled smugly at how she had to shut up immediately.

"I will leave," said Rhys. "And I swear as I did before, that I will not break into your home again. And I am sure you will realise that Calypso is harmless and you will return her to her family."

"Once I am sure of that," said Tamlin, his voice serious, and Az knew that he meant every single word, "you have my word, Calypso will be safely returned to her home."

Rhys and Tamlin shook hands on this and Az wanted to scream at what this meant.

Was Rhys giving up on Cal?

"I will be going now, Tamlin," said Rhys. "I just hope you find in yourself the humanity that Feyre had fallen in love with and release Cal."

And then, Rhys, with the shadowsinger in absolute astonishment, walked out of the Spring Court and winnowed to the Illyrian war camp.