Her father never came back from Spring. Well, he did, but as a corpse in Rhys's arms.

Rhiannon had already known he was dead before her brother returned. Her mother had abruptly paused mid-conversation as they sat together waiting for their return, then let out a terrible scream, face twisting in anguish. That scream would haunt her for years to come.

"What's wrong with her?" Rhiannon backed up in alarm, panicked and scared, as Cassian and Azriel, who had been giving them some privacy, sprinted outside to the veranda upon hearing it. Her mother was ordinarily so reserved and put-together. "She never cries, what happened?" 

But Cassian did not hear her, simply kneeling down beside her mother. The female was now on her knees, arms wrapped around her head as though to block out the pain. He said nothing, just wrapped a shaking, crying Aithusa in his arms. The fact her mother let him do so without even a snapping comment was disturbing.

"Come on, Rhi," Azriel placed a hand on Rhiannon's shoulder and wordlessly led her away from her mother. She was so numb that she let him guide her, furiously wiping away her silent tears with the back of her hand.

"He's dead, isn't he?" She choked out, more horrified at her mother's uncharacteristically hysterical state than the death of her father. "Father's dead. Losing your mate can make you go mad. Is mother going to go mad? What about Rhys, is he dead too?"

"Rhys is not dead," The Shadowsinger said. "Otherwise the power of the High Lord would have gone to you,"

"I'm going to kill everyone in that wretched Spring Court," Her voice was shaking, and she hated it. "I'm going to make them wish they never dared lay a hand on me or Mother. Would you help me? You know how to hurt people," 

Azriel was silent for a moment.

"The Spring Court is not the same as the High Lord's family," He said carefully. 

"I don't care," She snapped back, though that was a lie. "I want the High Lord to see all his lands burn around him, as well as all his stupid sons,"

Rhiannon was angry, lashing out in reckless, self-destructive hope, trying to hide her own weakness with spite and fury. But Azriel did not react the way she wished; no reprimand, no cuff round the head, no disapproving glare. He didn't even walk away.

"Rhys will not let any of Fachan's sons live after what they tried to do to you," 

"Tried to?" She tried to glare, but had to look away, blinking furiously. "They did - " She broke off, refusing to look at him, hand rising to her mouth to stifle a sob.

"You're allowed to cry," The Shadowsinger said quietly.

"You never cry," She accused, even as more tears streamed down her face.

"I'm a spy and assassin for the Night Court, an Illyrian warrior - a Carynthian no less - and the High Lord's pet shadowsinger. I'd never hear the end of it," He said dryly, then his expression softened slightly. "You are a ten year old girl who just went through a terrible ordeal. Not to mention there's no one else here to see,"

To her embarrassment, she burst into noisy tears at that. She threw her arms around Azriel to hide her face, burying it in his chest. To her eternal gratitude, the notoriously prickly male let her, even hugging her back, albeit hesitantly.

Her brother appeared to them half an hour later, with all the power of a High Lord at his disposal, a distant look in his eyes and fresh blood on his hands. Rhiannon's tears turned to screams of rage - a full on tantrum - when he told her Tamlin still lived. Rhys had not said anything at all, just looked sad, even as she beat at his chest with furious but ineffective fists.

The days after that were bleak. She couldn't look at grass or flowers without being reminded of her own blood dripping onto the forest floor, and the stabbing pain that came with it. Her grandmother Helene had sent her mourning flowers from Illyria; she had tried to like them, tried to be grateful, and had felt terrible for throwing them in the fire but couldn't look at them any longer.

Rhiannon now kept her wings hidden unless she needed to fly, for she cringed even when they brushed against a wall or tree, remembering Bethir's crawling hands all over her. And most irritating of all, she could not sleep without waking up screaming, haunted by nightmares of that horrifying carrion bird chasing her, catching her, tearing off her wings with its giant beak.

"Good morning,"

It was Azriel who found her sat outside the House of Wind in the first light of dawn; they had all moved to Velaris from the Moonstone Palace after Father died. Rhys liked it better, and at least here it was acceptable to hide away. She did not feel like parading before the Court of Nightmares just yet.

Rhiannon had been unable to sleep at all that night, and had spent the last half hour outside practicing with her magic. Well, it had started that way at least. Now she was using that dark power to shoot down any bird that flew within the wards of the house. Her magic was still uncontrolled and coarse, though nowhere near the powerful level it had been at in that forest clearing. Perhaps she had to be afraid to be so strong.

The Shadowsinger had clearly been heading to the ring to train, but looked around at the dozen or so small corpses with a raised eyebrow.

"Morning Az," Rhiannon replied gloomily from where she sat on the wall. A twitch of a finger sent an unfortunate crow falling from the sky. It landed in an undignified, crumpled heap in front of him.

She was expecting a reprimand, or at least concern for her sanity, and cared for neither. Instead, Azriel laughed. A short laugh, but even they were rare coming from the spy. Spymaster, she reminded herself; he had been promoted since Rhys became High Lord. No longer her father's favourite pet to drag around to intimidate other courts.

"Stop it," She grumbled, glaring at him. "It's not funny," But she couldn't stop a grudging smile creeping onto her face, seeing the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Do you like to massacre small birds often?" His tone was mild, eyes amused. "At least murder the ones that look like Fachan's form. What did a crow ever do to you?"

"Shut up," She slid off the wall, misliking how this now made her much shorter than him. Rhiannon had always been tall for her age, but not tall enough. "I just couldn't sleep,"

He seemed to understand what she meant by that, though she liked that he didn't show any sign of guilt or pity like Rhys would have done.

"Neither could I. Though instead of terrorising the local wildlife, I'm going to train,"

"Well I can't do that, can I?" She crossed her arms. "I'm not allowed,"

"Why? Your father's hardly going to stop you," He raised an eyebrow.

That may have upset any other child, though Rhiannon had not particularly mourned her father. She mourned how her mother had been since his death more. 

She considered his words.

"I don't like getting sweaty and tired. And I've never done it, so I'd be terrible - I don't like being bad at anything,"

"Suit yourself," He shrugged, unbothered. "If you change your mind, come to me or Cassian. I'd have thought you'd want to learn how to disarm someone holding you at knifepoint, after your incident with Spring,"

That was a good point, but she didn't like how he assumed that would win her over, so did not uncross her arms, narrowing her eyes up at him as they walked towards the training ring.

"I couldn't have disarmed them even if I knew how. They were a lot bigger than me,"

"That's not an excuse. Cassian and Rhys were much bigger than me, when we were boys. I learned to disarm them,"

"You can't have been that much smaller,"

"I was,"

"But you're the same size as Rhys is now,"

"I grew. When I first came to live with your mother, I was half Cassian's size,"

"Why?"

"None of your business,"

She glared at him for that.

"You said you couldn't sleep. What could possibly scare you that much? You're one of the scariest people I know," She quickly corrected herself. "Not that I'm scared of you. I know you're a big baby who can't even sleep at night. But everyone else is,"

"Why so many questions?" He smiled faintly at her frustrated groan. "I interrogate people for a living, Rhi - your pestering won't have me spilling any secrets if I don't want to,"

"Is that what it is?" She said. "Do you dream about cutting people up?"

Azriel frowned, then spoke carefully.

"No. That's not what I dream about," She just blinked up at him expectedly, and he shook his head. "If you agree to stop being such a pest, I'll tell you, but I don't know if you'll want to hear it," Rhiannon nodded and he continued. "At your age, my father kept me in a dark cell all the time,"

"Oh," She glanced at him, for once not quite sure how to respond.

"I've never seen you lost for words, Rhi,"

"I'm not," She snapped, defensive. "I bet you deserved being locked in that cell,"

Rhiannon sensed that may have been too far the moment she said it. For once, she was about to apologise and say she hadn't meant it, when Azriel snorted, shaking his head.

"You're a little brat," The Shadowsinger didn't sound angry or upset. "Another reason you should learn to fight - someone is definitely going to hit you for that sharp tongue sooner or later,"

"Who, you?" She grinned, calling forth her dark magic and using it to shove him slightly; she wasn't strong enough to make him do more than stumble, unless she was as scared as she had been in the forest. Seeing the ordinarily smooth male trip was funny, and Rhiannon laughed.

Azriel glared at her, enough that she saw why others found him intimidating. She tried to step back on instinct, only to find her feet were stuck to the floor, held in place by two shadows. Her slight fear evaporated instantly, replaced by an indignant pout.

"You bastard! Literally!" He scoffed at her weak insult. "Let me go," She tried to use her own magic to break the shadow's hold, to not avail.

He just smiled, continuing to walk to the training ring.

*

Rhiannon did take him up on his offer to teach her to fight eventually, though it took a few weeks for her to get over her pride, along with her mother practically insisting on it. She disliked training immensely, feeling stupid to try at something she was useless at, and it just made her hot, sweaty and tired. But even she could not deny there was a certain satisfaction in doing something right for the first time, and in the ache of her muscles after a hard session.

Slowly she improved, until she was at least competent with a sword, a knife and other close-range weapons, if not especially talented. She still despised hand-to-hand combat. Rhiannon would always prefer a bow; she was more than good at it, for one, and you could shoot from a long way away from any actual fight where she was likely to die or get hurt.

Even better was fighting with her magic, which was getting stronger by the day. Unfortunately that meant it was harder to control, and though Rhys attempted to find time to teach her how to use it better, as the new high lord he was very busy.

That was how Rhiannon found herself trying not to shift in her seat under the terrifying stare of her brother's silver-eyed witch; also known as Second in Command of the Night Court.

Amren scared her to death, though she would rather die than admit it. The female - or whatever she really was - had been around her father's court as a guest and advisor plenty of times, though Rhiannon had never really interacted with her at all. Now she was a permanent fixture in Velaris, in Rhys' court, and apparently now as Rhiannon's tutor.

However, despite the fact that Amren terrified her - likely because of it - Rhiannon was not going to hold back and be obedient.

"Why did you choose such a tiny form? Being so ancient and powerful, shouldn't you have picked something more impressive?" She asked, impertinent as ever, tossing her curly hair over her shoulder.

"You have a sharp tongue, youngling," Amren narrowed her eyes at her. "I sense I will either like you or despise you. Perhaps both," Despite herself, Rhiannon did like how the female did not baby her. "How did you know I chose this form?"

She shrugged.

"It makes sense,"

Amren had no reply to that and leant back slightly, observing her.

"You're nowhere near as powerful as your brother was," She said bluntly after a moment. "Not even when he was heir. Oh, get over yourself," She scoffed slightly as Rhiannon bristled, even though she knew the female's words were true. "You are a high lord's daughter nonetheless, an Illyrian's too, and have the potential to be as strong as many a high lord's heir," Amren smiled, and that was even worse than her glare. "If you listen closely to me. And get over that foolish pride, at least in here,"

The witch had been right. She and Rhiannon hated each other just as often as they delighted in each other's company. Both had too many sharp edges to not clash at times - and such occasions were nothing short of vicious - but it was for this reason that they could often be found cackling or in enthusiastic discussion. Rhiannon supposed that given her teacher's age, even Rhys and Mother were children to her, so she barely noticed that Rhiannon herself was so young.

The ancient female had been right about Rhiannon's magic too. It was the same dark power as Rhys and her father wielded, far weaker yet still deadly. She learned to winnow after a long struggle, and though she wished to be a daemati like her brother, Amren informed her that that trait was not passed through families and she was incredibly unlikely to ever develop it.

Despite her frustration with learning to fight and wield her magic, she was grateful that her friends and family had pushed her to do so. She was far stronger now than that weak little girl who had been easily restrained by the sons of the Spring Court. And even if she still woke up in a cold sweat a few nights a week - from nightmares of blood and birds, grass and wildflowers, sharp knives and grabbing hands running over her wings - no one ever had to know.

As Rhiannon got older, and her nightmares of Spring grew less frequent, she began coming to training sessions with Azriel for a different reason than to learn to fight. She had always known the Shadowsinger was handsome, in the same way she knew Cassian and Rhys were, but now she was old enough to notice. And he was never so handsome as when he was fighting.

It was just a stupid, hopeless crush, she knew that well enough. Everyone knew that he had been in love with her cousin Mor for over a century before Rhiannon was born. She was just Rhys' bratty fourteen-year-old sister, who was a five foot eight beanpole with a too-big nose and stupid curly hair.

Not to mention she was painfully aware of what Rhys, Cassian or Azriel liked to get up to on their nights in Velaris, no matter how they liked to pretend she was not.

One rather traumatic day late in the evening, Rhiannon and her mother had entered the new townhouse after flying back from Windhaven only to find her brother intimately entwined with some female on the couch, so caught up in the moment - and each other - that neither of them noticed them walk in. Aithusa had cleared her throat as Rhiannon retched dramatically and Rhys had let out a rather unlordly yelp, using magic to put his clothes back on in an instant.

The sight had been scarring, but it was almost worth seeing her brother's uncharacteristic blush, especially as their mother cackled at him.

"You're forgetting I slept in the room opposite yours in Windhaven, Rhys," She said, as the High Lord of the Night Court winced. "The things I heard then were far worse than that,"

"That wasn't just me," He grumbled, still looking mortified. "Cass and Az were just as bad,"

"You weren't the worst of you three, I'll give you that," Aithusa was still very amused. "Cassian was worst in terms of how often - and how loud - whilst Azriel..." She trailed off.

Rhys snorted then.

"Az has always had acquried tastes," He finished their mother's sentence, and she nodded with a short laugh.

Part of Rhiannon wanted to ask exactly what he meant by that - something that even her mother, who was very hard to embarrass, wouldn't say - but thought better of it.

A less funny incident had happened at the House of Wind. Rhiannon had gone to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for herself one night, only to hear strange sounds coming from inside. Curious, for whatever reason, she had used her powers to cloak herself in darkness and muffle her footsteps, creeping around to peer inside.

She recognised Azriel, but not the dark-haired high fae female stood with her back against his chest, his hand sliding up her thigh and under her short dress. The Shadowsinger's other hand was fisted none-too-gently in the female's hair, pulling her head back against his chest, before he lowered his lips to her neck. The sounds his hand was making between her legs was thoroughly indecent,  as were the lewd noises from her mouth that had Rhiannon blushing.

She wanted to leave - knew she should leave - but the worst side of her won out and she remained, staring. Azriel's hand left the female's hair, gripping her throat enough to make her gasp for breath, writhing against him.

When the female had sunk to her knees before him and her hands moved to the laces of his leathers, Rhiannon had snapped out of it. Cheeks burning, she had fled and hurried back to her room. She felt slightly guilty at having witnessed such a private moment, though justified that to herself with the knowledge that Azriel had his own room here; there was no need to do such a thing in the kitchen.

She also felt an unreasonable stab of jealousy for that beautiful female, but that did not need to be admitted, even to herself.

Embarrased though she was at witnessing such an encounter, Rhiannon knew that Azriel would be more so, which would make her less so. She hated being embarrassed, and loved having the upper hand. Hence why she brought it up the next day at breakfast.

"How was Rita's last night?" She asked rather too innocently. "Your friend seemed nice,"

The Shadowsinger stopped mid-chew, as both Rhys, Cassian and her mother looked at him in question.

"What friend?" Azriel asked in a decent attempt at sounding normal.

"You don't remember her?" Rhiannon made her eyes go wide, though allowed a wicked glint to show through the innocent act. "The female with long dark hair. I only saw her for a few seconds - " Minutes. " - and she was certainly memorable to me,"

A brief flash of realisation, and horror, dawned in his expression but he stifled it quickly. She just smirked, nodding once to confirm his fears. Rhys and Cassian had caught on, and both were watching in anticipation, holding back laughter. Her mother looked on with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile.

"I don't recall," Azriel said carefully, ever the spymaster, taking a sip of water.

"That's surprising, considering you had your hand up her skirts and she was moaning your name in the middle of this very room,"

He choked on his drink at her crude words, wincing, as Rhys and Cassian burst out laughing.

"The kitchen? Really?" Aithusa pulled a face though did not seem angry. "I wouldn't put it past these two morons, but I'd have thought you were above that, Azriel,"

"We didn't stay in the kitchen," He blurted out straight away, then winced again at his own words, shaking his head. "Sorry, Rhi,"

It would be highly inappropriate to say that she didn't mind one bit, and for once Rhiannon bit her tongue.

"I should beat you bloody for making my poor innocent sister witness something so scarring," Rhys was still laughing even through delivering his threat.

"It was less scarring than when we walked in on you on the couch," She shot back at him, angered by the innocent comment, despite the fact that in this sense she really was. "At least this girl looked like she was enjoying herself,"

That set everyone off, and even Rhys smirked.

"When you're old enough, I will be sure to annoy you just as much as you've enjoyed annoying all of us, Rhiannon," He promised.

"As if anyone is going to be interested in me with you three brutes lurking around," She snorted, then glanced at Azriel with admirable disdain. "Besides, unlike some people, I have no interest in getting off with a stranger in the kitchen,"

He shot her a dark look.

"My shadows should have warned me you were lurking nearby,"

"I wasn't lurking, this is my house," She rolled her eyes. "And perhaps the shadows were a little distracted,"

*

Rhiannon is a little shit haha. I want to emphasise there is nothing between her and Azriel apart from friendship while she's still a child, aside from a one-sided schoolgirl crush (which lets face it, we all would have in her place). 

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks for reading, and special thanks to everyone who has left comments/reviews!