The artwork above is not mine.

•༻☾☽༺•

    "You should not be going out on official business," Madja scolded as she examined Seren. Azriel stood behind her, arms crossed and eyes glistening with approval.

    Seren merely smiled. "Elain thinks I might be able to help. It won't require me to winnow, use too much magic, or overexert myself. I'll be fine."

    "All the same. If you feel like something is wrong, you must return at once."

    "I will."

    "You should let Rhys put a shield over you," Azriel said.

    Seren frowned and shook her head. "I'll feel closed in. Feyre told me all about it. While I might not struggle so much with my scars or water..."

    "Small spaces. Especially dark ones," Azriel sighed. "I know." He tugged on the Bond gently. I know all too well.

    "You're coming along nicely," Madja said, straightening. "The baby is healthy. I can't tell if it has wings or not yet, but I should be able to soon. Oh, and you might start to feel the baby kicking." Azriel helped Seren to her feet. His excitement was evident. "Come see me the moment you get home," Madja ordered. "Unless you're tired. In that case, sleep a few hours first."

    Seren smiled as they left the office. Shadows wrapped around them, leaving the sensation of being submersed in a thick liquid. When the shadows withdrew, they were standing in the garden of the river house.

    Elain and Lucien were already waiting. Seren kissed Azriel and turned away. He held her hands tightly, refusing to let go. "Beron is planning to do something regarding Vassa, remember?" He murmured. "Be on the lookout."

    "I will, and you keep an eye on Erebus, Kallon, and your half brothers."

    Azriel leaned his forehead against hers. Seren smiled, closing her eyes briefly. This small gesture that he so often did...it was almost more meaningful to her than anything else. The first time he'd done it had been after Elain's birthday party a year ago, when they went to a small hidden valley and looked at the spring constellations.

    Seren blinked, a thought occurring to her. The anniversary of her mother's death had passed...and she had not remembered. She hadn't been plagued by buried memories fighting to be seen. She hadn't dreamed of her mother's blood wetting her cheeks. She hadn't seen the dagger in her father's hands. She had forgotten. She didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

    "I love you," Azriel whispered, drawing her out of her thoughts.

    "I love you," Seren echoed. Azriel kissed her, then stepped back. She joined Lucien and Elain near the gates. Lucien placed a hand on her arm and they winnowed away.

•༻☾☽༺•

    Seren stared up at the massive gray stone manor, built on an island in the middle of a lake. It was almost as large as the river estate. Elain hovered beside her while Lucien spoke with the guards at the door.

    "The dread lord is human. Vassa was sold to him by her fellow queens during the war with Hybern. Koschei cursed her to become a firebird by day and a woman by night," Elain explained. "After the war, she was given temporary freedom. She lived on an island with Jurian, and Lucien stayed with them quite often."

    "Koschei?" Seren arched an eyebrow. "Does this dread lord work for him?"

    Elain shrugged. "You would think so, but if he did, why would Beron be plotting something in regards to Vassa, when Koschei could just sweep in and take her himself?"

    "Odd," Seren agreed.

    Lucien beckoned them forward as the guards opened the gates to the grounds. They followed him up a pathway. More guards hovered near the manor's doors. The doors swung open and they entered.

    A tall human male met them in the hallway. Seren looked him over curiously. He was handsome for a mortal, with calculating brown eyes and shoulder length brown hair. His skin had a rich tan hue.

    "He's getting tired of us," the male said. "We have to offer him something, and fast."

    "I had an idea," Elain said. "Jurian, this is Seren Marzena."

    So this is Jurian, Seren thought. She'd heard stories of the infamous general, although she'd never met him.

    Jurian's shrewd gaze landed on her. "The Illyrian Dragon. The dread lord likes winged creatures. Maybe we can offer you in Vassa's stead."

    "That's not why she's here," Lucien said. There was a hint of warning in his tone.

    "Hm." Jurian turned on his heel and beckoned for them to follow.

    Seren eyed her surroundings as they walked. The hallways were dark and coated in dust. Paintings took the place of windows. Some were covered in thin veils. She spotted black fabric draped over several paintings. Through the gauze, she could vaguely make out a woman.

    Jurian breezed down another corridor and stopped before a set of mahogany doors. He pushed them open, revealing an office. Another man was slumped over a desk. In a tall cage beside the desk, sat a magnificent bird with flaming feathers.

    The man lifted his head. He looked much older than Seren had expected. His hair was snowy white, but there was something strangely youthful in his ancient black eyes. "Back again?" His voice was cold and dripped with darkness.

    "We'll keep coming back until we reach an agreement," Lucien said.

    A cruel smile grew on the dread lord's lips. "What have you to offer me this time?" His gaze flickered to Seren. She tensed as a look similar to recognition crossed his features. A heartbeat later, it was gone. "Something worthwhile, I hope?"

    Seren's hands grew warm as his dark eyes wandered over her again. Azriel's shadows coiled around her shoulders. The dread lord smiled, and Seren didn't like the look of it.

•༻☾☽༺•

    Windhaven was busier than usual as Azriel and Cassian wound their way through the Illyrians. From the training rings came the sound of clashing steel. They passed the last of the huts and the rings came into view.

    Jorah paced around them, calling out instructions to her pupils. Surprisingly, a few of the Ironcrest males were training with the females. Several Windhaven Illyrians were watching them. Devlon was among the group, a frown resting on his face.

    "Her bruises are almost gone," Cassian noted. Azriel glanced at Jorah's arms and nodded.

    Jorah ended the session and the males and females left the rings. She sheathed her sword and spotted the two of them. Before she could join them, Devlon ducked in front of her.

    "Your blade must be buried," he said.

    "This blade has never left my side since I claimed it," Jorah replied, lifting her chin proudly. "Your stupid superstitions won't change that."

    Azriel waited for Devlon's temper to flare. Surprisingly, the war lord only stared down at Jorah. She met his gaze, refusing to back away. "Your blade will break in battle. You will be killed," Devlon said.

    "I will die a warrior's death," she countered. "And I will die with the blood of my enemies on my blade, which will not break. I was there when it was crafted. I have known this weapon every day it has existed."

    "Have you given it a name, Little Harpy?" Devlon sneered. "A true warrior knows their blade by name."

    "Adrastos."

    Devlon looked faintly surprised. "And do you know what that means?"

    "I do not run."

    Devlon tilted his head, still watching her. "It also means inescapable."

    Jorah smiled, a cunning grin she could only have learned from watching Kallon. "I do not run from battle, and my blade is inescapable. I should think you'd be glad to have my skills around."

    We sense no hostility, the shadows said. Only curiosity. Only vague annoyance. Azriel watched the two Illyrians. Cassian had the sense to remain beside him.

    Jorah held Devlon's gaze a moment longer, then shoved past him. Devlon didn't retaliate. "I think the prick is scared of you," Cassian chuckled when she reached them.

    "Is that a good or bad thing?"

    "That depends," Azriel replied.

    "On what?"

    "If his fear grants you his loyalty and respect, or a swift death."

    Jorah looked over her shoulder. Devlon and a few of his warriors were in the training rings now. She watched him run through several forms before looking back at Cassian and Azriel. "He may try to kill me, but he will fail."

    Cassian grinned and cautiously draped an arm over her shoulders. Jorah smiled, shifting her mangled wings into a more comfortable position. "We have taught you well, Little Sister," Cassian laughed.

    "So did Seren and Elain. How are they, by the way?" Jorah asked.

    "They're both doing fine. They're in the Mortal Lands right now," Cassian replied.

    "Even Seren?"

    Azriel nodded. "Elain thought she might be able to help them with something and she agreed to try."

    "I'm amazed you let her go."

    "She makes her own decisions. I just offer my approving or disapproving opinion."

    "That's not what Kallon did," Jorah sighed.

    "Kallon was a heartless bastard who never deserved to have you as his mate," Cassian spat.

    Azriel nodded his agreement. "Speaking of Kallon, though, I should get going."

    "You're spying on them?" Jorah asked.

    "Yes. Devlon is worried they're going to attack. Hopefully, we can catch their attack before it happens."

    "Good luck," Cassian called.

    Azriel stepped through the shadows. When they unraveled themselves, he was hovering over Ironcrest. Azriel snapped his wings out, catching himself. He flew silently over the quiet camp.

    Sounds came from the training rings. Shadows crept over Azriel, muffling his wing beats and hiding him from sight. They wrapped around the flaming band on his arm. Azriel landed on the roof of a hut near the training rings.

    Osiris and Seker were overseeing the training. They hollered orders that the males were quick to obey. Erebus sat just beyond the rings, his wings limp against his back. Kallon was pacing behind him, making short jerky movements with his head and arms.

    Azriel flew closer to Erebus and Kallon. "Would you stop that?" Erebus snapped. "Your pointless mutterings aren't helping anyone."

    Kallon ignored his father and continued to pace. His wings flared out behind him and he muttered incoherently. Tell me what he's saying, Azriel instructed the shadows.

    Two of them broke away and crawled over Kallon. Azriel could hear his voice plainly now. "Get her back. Stop this. Have to find them. Have to get them. Have to get her." He ground his fingernails together and Azriel grimaced. "Mine. She's mine. They won't get away with this. Soon. How soon? Soon."

    He sounded half mad. Azriel called the shadows back to him and returned to his post on the hut. He surveyed the Illyrians, running over Kallon's words. By the Mother, he thought. Maybe he really is going mad. Jorah broke the Bond. That's been known to drive someone into madness.

    He trained his gaze on Kallon especially. The male kept pacing and muttering, running his fingers through his hair. Kallon snapped his head up and stared straight at Azriel. Shadows tucked around Azriel tighter, and he knew he was hidden from view. Still, Kallon didn't pull his gaze away. Azriel didn't break his stare.

    "I see you," Kallon whispered, pointing right at him. "I see you."