05 BEACONS IN THE DARK

—BONFIRES are lit just before dusk to guide the droves of magic through the oncoming night. The sound of chirping wildlife hushes as the whooping and cheering rise up on the breeze. The violent drumbeats begin as the last speck of sun disappears on the horizon, and their pulses resonate all the way to the northern shores before fading away into the endless sky.

Every year, without fail, the rites commence on the Eve of Spring to fill the well of power for yet another year. It is a cause for joy, to usher in the new year on waves of magic. It is euphoric. Without it, ruin is sure to descend.

But upon this particular Spring Eve, there lurks a fierce sense of foreboding.

Beneath every melodic note of the lute, there exists a nervous strain in the chords.

Behind every wandering gaze, there lies a stifling restlessness.

Running rampant below the lustful skin of every being, there churns a fearful desperation.

And this tension only drives them deeper into their revelry in hopes of staving off the dread. Faeries from across Prythian, as well, traverse across the borders to share in this observance. It is a night to help them forget what looms ever closer, to help them forget that which is eating them from the inside out.

But not all who enter this land of ignorance have come for the overturning seasons.

At the toe of the northern border, concealed by the cover of tall oak trees, two such bodies appear in a flash of dark smoke.

They idle there in the shadows, wary of prying eyes and ears.

The male breathes in the crisp air, face upturned to the sky despite the canopy of leaves obstructing the stars. His eyes drift shut peacefully; pure serenity cloaks his sharp features. The female, in a similar state of amity, stares transfixed at this act of cleansing. Her violet eyes take in her companion with tender fondness, a smile floating easily onto her lips.

After a lingering moment, she looks away to offer him some privacy. Her eyes instead turn to the distance where they'd come from, smile falling away slowly when faced with the snowy mountain range in the distance. One of her hands settles upon her lower abdomen.

—TO Kazi, darkness is healing. It is untold mystery folded in a blanket of security. There is beauty in the raw midnight darkness that allows the stars to shine their brightest. Without the night sky, there is no love for the dawn. Without the moon, there is no love for the sun. The darkness holds the shadows engraved in her soul; they tempt her into the abyss with their gentle kiss.

But no matter how seductive their coaxing, she cannot give in to it, not yet.

There is work to be done.

She puts the distant painting of Mount Nathmien and the Winter Court at her back to face the expansive Spring Court. Kazi can feel the flow of power undulating from the rising festivities in the distance. Voices of jubilation reach her keen ears and she wonders how anyone can feel carefree in the blight, especially with the threat of complete tyranny on the horizon.

Don't they know what awaits them?

Looking up at the crescent moon, she determines the time to be a couple hours before midnight. Tamlin will be hunting for the White Stag within the hour.

Kazi, still frowning, turns her eyes back to Rhysand at her side. His eyes are still shut in wistful contentment, but his face is now entirely pointed deep in the wood. His eyebrows pull together slowly, confusion tugging away at him as if he's homed in on something beyond their line of sight. Oddly, his fixation with this unseen beacon feels strangely intimate, and it almost pains her to disturb him from the moment.

But they are on borrowed time.

"Rhys, are you ready?" she asks quietly so as not to disturb the stillness of infinity above them or the bubble of tranquility he's found.

After another silent second, his eyes fall open and he lowers his head back to the present with a short shake. He intakes a sharp breath, nostrils flaring when the smell of smoke and potent desire wafts toward them.

"Yes, ready," he says after clearing his throat. His deep violet eyes flicker to her stomach where she's unconsciously laid her hand. She drops it away to her side. "Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine," she waives him off. "I've had plenty of time to heal."

He does not seem fully convinced with her claims to health and recovery, but he knows after so long by her side that she will fight him on this issue until her last breath. "As you say. You know what to do."

With this, he winnows away further into the woods where he will scour the land for any sign of a human.

Speculations of an unknown female within the Spring estates began stirring four months ago, but the wards around said estates are too complex for the naga to try and investigate further. As such, Amarantha has sent both Kazi and Rhysand to bring her back a more accurate report.

Kazi, for the sake of this supposed human, hopes they are hidden safely away on this night.

Taking one last look to where she imagines her High Lord jumped to, she begins her trek west along the Summer Court's borders. For the next hour, she tracks the stag across the Spring Court.

A stray antler scratch on a maple tree where it marked its territory, a collection of lush raspberry bushes grazed to stubs where it had its last meal. Eventually, she is sneaking along fresh, crisp hoof prints in the mud, careful not to leave her own tracks behind. Tamlin is not likely to notice her presence, being so consumed in the hunt, but she won't take any risks on a night where his magic is at its highest and most primal.

The White Stag is in a meadow clearing, head bowed low among the daylilies, when she spots it. She looks to the constellations above to try and gauge her position within the court, and lightly curses when she discovers they are closer to the Autumn Court's coast than the Summer's. She wants to be as far from Rose Hall as possible. Having the stag this close to the main estate poses a greater risk to crossing paths with Tamlin than she desires.

Taking one last look around for any sign of the beast of Spring, she steps into the clearing with a purposefully heavy foot to alert the stag. Its head whips up to see her form in the shade; she jerks another step forward to get it moving. Successfully, it bolts in the opposite direction and Kazi winnows after it, taking care to only spook it in certain directions. Whenever it tries to veer too far south or too far west, she cuts it off with another jump and directs it back on track.

After a short while, the exhaustion becomes a little too much, and she starts to jump too far off-course in her winnowing. By the third jump with her eyes closed, she lands farther inland and decides she's led the stag far enough away from where Tamlin will hopefully begin his search. Her legs almost crumple beneath her, but she reaches out a hand to stabilize herself against a large maple. Her eyes drift shut as she tries to stop the world from spinning around her.

She misses her full reservoir of power.

There is a light scuffle of brush before her back is being slammed into the tree at her side. Her nose picks up the identity of her assailant before she can even open her eyes or strike out with her daggers. Spice, earth, and...something like heat. As her eyes finally adjust back to the darkness, she can see the mask that hides most of the unfortunate scarring on his face. The golden metal in his left eye socket whirs as he takes in her disorientation.

"What are you doing here?" Lucien Vanseraa demands, forearm laid heavily against her collarbones as he holds her down against the tree trunk.

Kazi lazily rests her head back against the rough bark, giving in. "Enjoying Calanmai. They aren't exactly celebrating in the other courts anymore, unfortunately. What are you doing?"

"Don't lie to me, Snake." His arm does not relieve any pressure, even as she grimaces with a forced smile at his bony elbow. "Linden saw your tracks hours ago."

Linden, of course, the master tracker, the expert hawk. No matter how well she keeps herself hidden, he will always be able to see every step she takes and then some. His own strength is at its prime so it's no surprise that they've caught her in the act. She's planned for this.

"Where is he?" Kazi asks, wondering how the guardian is faring in his limited freedom. Her fellow Divine has always been a free spirit, following the whims of his heart.

"Tracking down the stag that you scared off," he says lowly, letting her know that they figured out exactly what she's been doing. "Is the Deceiver trying to stop the changing of seasons now? Is she planning to trap us in an eternal winter, as well?"

No, but Kazi is sure the thought has crossed the Witch's mind at least twice. Throwing the cycle off kilter would certainly disrupt the magic system put in place, sending the land into disarray.

"Just a short delay," she lies through her teeth, exacting the script she'd planned for. "She's giving Tamlin one last chance to come to her for his final rite as High Lord. Unless...he already has a lady of the evening lined up for tonight's festivities?"

She grins wolfishly as his forearm digs impossibly deeper into the hollow of her neck. His metal eye whirs quietly. Interesting.

Maybe there is some truth to the vague reports these past months.

"Kazimyrah," Linden's soft voice falls from a nearby tree, and he swiftly drops to the roots below. He approaches with a levelled expression and a hand clutching his bow.

"Linden," she greets, unable to look at him straight on as Lucien still has her pinned. She is sure, without a doubt, that she could push him off with ease, but the longer these two are distracted with her, the more time Rhysand has. "Long time, no see."

He moves politely into her line of sight so she can see the green leafed mask covering half of his young face. He does not humor her pleasantries. "The answer is the same as every year. Tamlin will not take Amarantha as his lover tonight."

"Even if it's his last chance to do so willingly before everything goes to shit?" Kazi asks, bitterness involuntarily seeping into her voice. She takes a deep breath and nestles her head farther against the bark to look at the sky. Midnight is still an hour or so off, but she wants Rhysand in her sights when the hour strikes.

"It makes no difference to him," he responds, sounding colder than she's ever heard him in his short lifespan. "Even if she made you kill every last faerie in Prythian, the answer would remain the same. Now, if you'd kindly leave the Spring Court to its celebrations and deliver his refusal."

Kazi restrains her flinch, and she is almost glad she is being restrained. Linden has every right to be harsh with her, she's done terrible things under Amarantha's rule; Nostrus and Brutius had not been the beginning nor the end of her long line of casualties. But it still is not beneath her to defend herself and her intentions.

"It makes little difference to Amarantha, you understand, considering his 49 years are almost up." She eyes the two in front of her with scrutiny, trying to catch any hint that may further betray the existence of a mortal woman.

They neither flinch nor tense, but Kazi is trained in the art of interrogation—both peaceful and less so.

From behind their darkened masks, she notices their eyes flicker to the center of the Spring Court. To Rose Hall.

So it is true.

The revelation strikes her in a strange way. Tamlin would be—could be free if he plays his cards right. He can obtain the full strength of his powers, full control of his court, and take down Amarantha's rule. He could do many things with his curse broken...but would he?

No, a coward like him would never.

"I'm sure I don't have to remind you how long he has left?" Kazi assumes cheerily. "Time is ticking. There's got to be some beggar human who wants to shower your High Lord with love for his wealth."

Lucien lets his elbow press uncomfortably in her shoulder joint once more before releasing her. "Get out of here before I drag you to the altar and have Tamlin sacrifice you instead. I'm sure he'd be all too pleased."

She steps away from the trunk and brushes her leathers off casually. Lucien sniffs and wrinkles his nose in disgust, finally smelling the permanent remnants stained into them. No matter how often she soaks them in boiling, soap water, the heavy stench of iron remains. She'd accepted the constant smell long ago and no longer wants to empty her stomach whenever she puts them on.

"Enjoy the rites," she gifts them shortly before winnowing away.

She stumbles slightly, still shaky from all her previous jumping. At first, she wonders why she's appeared in one of the populated clearings with a large bonfire and heady music, but then she realizes she'd been thinking of getting to her High Lord just before she'd winnowed. Her mind had taken her directly to him.

Looking around with interest, she finds many masked figures and a small number of bare faces from foreign courts. All are lost in their cups or their lust and hardly pay her any attention as she walks among them. Some of the females are being propositioned by the drooling males, but most are stumbling down a dirt path to a nearby cave, giggling all the while.

What a vile rite.

Just as Kazi steps out of the clearing and under the treetops, she finds her High Lord bestowing a kiss to the hand of a cloaked female. Quickly veering off to the side where she can safely hide in the darkness behind a wide tree, she watches as Rhysand bows lightly and winnows away.

Kazi rolls her eyes, preparing to jump to him once more but the scent of something distinctly...mortal wafts to her nose. Peering around the bark once more, she sees the female Rhysand was just flirting with cover her head with the cloak of her hood and duck away into the night. Just before she can, however, Kazi notices the rounded tips of her ears.

The human.

Kazi takes one last look at the girl's retreating back and winnows away.

—AMARANTHA is hard to please, this is no secret.

The throne room is bare except for the Deceiver herself, the Attor, Rhysand, and Kazi come dawn.

Kazi cannot help but glare at the Attor's salivating canines as she stands dutifully beside Rhysand giving their report. The creature sneers his plain dislike for her, and she tunes back into the account.

"There is evidence of a human living on his lands. Whether they are capable of breaking the curse is unknown. It will take more investigating." Kazi recognizes a hidden tone to his voice, a reluctance to reveal more.

"There is no need," Amarantha disagrees. "Tamlin would not dare take in a mortal if they weren't able to break his curse. This human beast must feel something for him, to stay there for all these seasons. Disgusting."

"We must send a sign that we know of this treason," the Attor hisses conspiratorially. "A most gruesome one. Enough to scare the filthy mortal and the lordling."

Amarantha considers this suggestion atop her throne, fingernails tapping against her armrest. "A message."

"A threat," the Attor adds happily. "A body torn to pieces, a mangled corpse on their doorstep."

The Deciever is staring Rhysand down and Kazi resists the urge to step in front of him. He is not in danger; he is not in danger.

Amarantha's face contorts into a scheming delight framed with malice. "Tell me, Lord Rhysand, what exactly did Tamlin's brothers and father do with your mother and sister all those years ago?"

Kazi knows that she flinches visibly as the memory rattles her skull when she sees the crowned female grin.

"Rhysand, your mother and sister will be expecting us in Windhaven," Kazi says. Her arms lay crossed over the fence. "We told her we'd be back by midday."

"Just one more spar," he says, waving another eager Illyrian soldier into the ring. "Mother and Vaela just wanted to have lunch while father's busy with his council. We don't need to be punctual for lunch."

Kazi rolls her eyes as the next match commences. She looks around Camp Ghostridge, feeling the stares on her and the prince alike. There is a reason Rhysand wanted so badly to train in combat with this contingent: they're renowned for their prowess in hand-to-hand. Unfortunately, they have a reputation for disliking outsiders.

"He's going to be here a while," a voice murmurs from next to her, and she looks over to see two Illyrians have joined her at the fenced perimeter.

"'Just one more' is Illyrian for 'Until I lose,'" Cassian agrees. He brushes a particularly long lock of hair behind his ear from where it fell into his sunburned face. "I'd say he's got at least ten more in him before he drops."

Kazi groans and drops her head onto her arms. She's been here since just after dawn, ignoring stares and keeping watch over her prince as he challenges everyone in the camp. At first, it was okay because she had her own training to complete, but now she has little else to do than keep score of punches and kicks. Cassian and Azriel only just finished their round of fights, and they are hardly the best of company on a good day.

She just wants to eat Indira's cooking.

Just as the thought crosses her mind, a faint object is placed on the fence just beside her elbow. She looks up to find an apple balanced precariously on the wood beam.

"Thanks," Kazi mutters, picking it up without looking to the one who gave it to her.

She receives a hum.

"Did you take it from some dining hall here?" she asks after biting into it. Cassian, who'd previously been cheering for Rhysand, looks over and narrows his eyes at the sight of it. He then glances at Azriel pointedly but does not say anything.

Another hum.

Cassian scoffs around the knuckles he's brought to his mouth. Kazi thinks nothing of it, though she does think a little bit about the secretive kick Azriel delivers to Cassian's shin.

Just as she is about to boldly make a remark about it, something shifts in the air. It's small; just a change in the wind's direction, she thinks. But then, across from her, she can see Rhysand's eyes glaze over and his arms fall to his sides limply.

Taking this moment of weakness in stride, his opponent begins a powerful assault with his fists. Rhysand hits the deck with a heavy thud, yet his opponent continues to send attack after attack, bloodying his face as the prince just takes it.

"Hey!" Cassian shouts to catch the male's attention, but the bloodlust has clearly consumed him. Kazi's heart pounds as she hurdles the fence and shoves the male off of Rhysand with a powerful kick to his ribs.

"Get off him! Rhys?!" She kneels down and wipes at the blood streaming down from his forehead so it doesn't leak into his eyes and blind him. Cradling his head, she tries to keep him from choking on his bleeding tongue and gums.

Cassian and Azriel are beside her a second later. "Rhys, buddy, what's wrong?"

"Windhaven," he gurgles through a mouthful of blood. "We have to get to Windhaven."

Before Kazi even has a chance to ask why, Rhysand's grabbed her wrist and winnowed them to the camp across the steppes.

The first thing Kazi registers is the chaos.

Illyrians: males, females, and younglings are rushing around, shouting things about the river. Everyone is moving and talking so fast that Kazi can barely understand what's ensued.

She helps Rhysand to his feet when he moves, supporting one of his arms over her shoulder as he tries to hurry in a certain direction.

"What's going on?" she asks him, still worried over the wounds he sustained on his face.

But his feet just carry them all the way to the riverbank where a large crowd of winged Illyrians have gathered. They whisper amongst each other, horrified voices intermingling too much for Kazi to pick out just what they are talking about. But she sees a couple males have dragged two boxes out of the river and set them on the rocky bank for everyone to see.

Rhysand pushes himself off her and lunges at the boxes to see their contents.

The roar that emerges from his throat in the next moment is perhaps the most earth-shattering, heartbreaking thing Kazi has ever heard in all her years. It is a cry of mourning and rage, of unending despair.

Kazi walks forward, ears ringing with his howls.

Peering into the wicker boxes, she at once collapses to her knees.

Two heads, one of a loving mother, and another a young female, only eighteen years old.

Rhysand screams again, and this time, Kazi can feel her tears fall down her cheeks and to her shaking hands.

"De-winged them and tore their heads from their bodies," Rhysand replies without a hitch. Kazi knows better than to believe the unfeeling tone in his voice. The memory of that morning and what was to come that night still scars him as much as it does her.

"What a perfect time to return the favor, don't you think?"

However tempting it sounded, they both knew the favor had already been returned. Before their deaths, Danrys and Raxleon, Kazi's father, had decimated the entirety of Tamlin's family in retribution for their actions. Tamlin is the only one left.

"He has no remaining family," Kazi says pointedly, trying to dissuade Amarantha from the idea.

Amarantha licks her lips in thought for a moment. "His village subjects dwindle every day that passes. They have been migrating to the Summer and Autumn Courts to escape the conditions of his court. One of his remaining people will do the trick. Doesn't matter who."

Kazi and Rhysand bow their heads in complicity, both holding their breaths.

"Two days' time," she orders. They nod and move in sync to the grand entrance as their leave. Before they cross the threshold, Amarantha's voice pulled them back. "Oh and do let him know exactly who it's from."

There is no need to give her another nod of affirmation.

Rhysand walks Kazi to her rooms silently.

"I can take care of the message," he says without prompting before she can reach for the handle of her door. "I'll do it."

She stills and takes a deep breath. It is selfish of her, to want to accept this offer when he already goes through so much. He does not deserve it.

"And you do?" he asks, betraying the fact that he was reading her surface level thoughts.

Her eyes fall shut. He only pries when he feels it is absolutely necessary, when he thinks she is withholding something because of propriety or a feeling of obligation to keep silent. Against the inside wall of her mind, she can feel his presence, their minds joining together in solidarity.

Her mind easily conjures up a familiar feeling of indebtedness and gratitude, revealing it to him freely.

"If anything, I will forever be indebted to you, my Myrah" he corrects with a shake of his head. "Let me do this and then maybe I'll be a step closer to repaying those debts."

Kazi's loyalty does not want her to relent, but she can feel the growing presence in her head with her stubbornness. She does not want to witness cold-blooded killing, does not want to be the cold-blooded killer. But both of those are inevitable. So maybe, maybe just this once, she'll take a break.

Her head ducks as she gives in.

Rhysand's mind leaves her own, but his hand comes up and nudges her cheek gently. Her head tilts toward the feeling unconsciously, so starved for any touch that will not inflict pain on her. If she can bottle this feeling of kindness, she would, and she would cherish it in the dark moments of the night when all she has is empty cold.

"Sleep," he commands finally, and pulls himself away from her fully.

Kazi enters her room after he turns a corner and rests against the door when it closes behind her. She can feel the other presence in her room and twitches to the cinquedeas in their sheaths.

"Leaving your door unlocked around here is mighty careless of you," Nazir rasps from the shadows. He emerges with his hood drawn up and over his eyes, as usual, smoke curling up from its depths. "I could have been anyone with less than honest intentions."

Kazi is not about to tell him that she is waiting for the day when that happens, that she awaits it almost...eagerly.

"And what intentions have you brought me, exactly?" she asks, maneuvering around in the dark to light candles.

"The virtuous kind, always," he responds. Taking a seat on the foot of her bed, he watches her work. "Beron wants information from the outside. Specifically, about the supposed human in Spring?"

Kazi pauses with the fire poker in her hand. "Virtuous, Nazir? This sounds more like a solicitation of evidence. Now, can you make yourself useful and get this fire started?"

She tosses the poker into his hands and moves to sit on a chaise lounge in the corner of the room. Nazir sighs stubbornly but gets up to resume the work she started on the fireplace.

"I can't be leaking information so carelessly, I'm already under constant threat what with that dark faerie still running around from the Winter Court incident. Tell Beron to find his own spies."

"I was Beron's entire spy network, still am, but I can't see anything of the outside. Besides, quality spies who are sympathetic to the High Lords—especially mine—are quite difficult to come by these days, believe it or not." Through the shadows of his hood, she can clearly feel the pierce of his gaze, not unkind but pointed. She tries not to recoil, knowing what the look means. Rhysand has been tasked with rooting out all the spies within Amarantha's court after the Nostrus rebellion and now Kallias's defiance. Every time he finds one, Kazi is deemed the task of cutting out their tongues and ears. "Besides, why not get the information while it's fresh?"

The fire steadily blooms to life in the hearth, and Nazir sets down the poker before coming to kneel before her expectantly.

She looks down to him, once more overcome with memories of his youth.

"Our investigations were inconclusive," she chooses to say.

"Now tell me why I don't believe that."

He stands up, hand held out to help her to her own feet. As she stands to remove her weapons belt, he takes it and sets it on a nearby dresser. His head then leans closer and she can faintly smell the spice and fire of his home.

"What does Beron expect will happen if Tamlin receives full capability of his powers?" she returns. "He can't possibly expect him to come and save everyone from Amarantha's reign. He will protect himself and hole up in his court until the blight has taken over the rest of Prythian. He will be content in knowing he'd left everyone else to her mercy. Tamlin knows nothing except self-preservation."

The memory of Tamin's father and brothers killing Rhysand's family and her father is now at the forefront of her mind.

"Amarantha is the rightful High Queen now," she bites through her clenched teeth, wanting to choke herself with the words.

Nazir inspects her carefully beneath the shade of his hood. "You put up a good front, Kazimyrah. But you do not need to put up that front around me, you know this. Please don't lose your ability to sense when you are among friends and when you are not. I don't want to lose you completely to this darkness."

She does not dare say anything in the stillness of the room. He is right, and she has nothing to refute.

As he walks to the door, cloak billowing about him, he says, "If it isn't abundantly clear to you, I am a friend. And I would like it to stay that way."

Kazi does not move from her spot by the dresser.

Murderers do not have friends. A murderer's only friend is the reaper.

NOTES ;

EW MY WRITING IS SUBPAR HERE.
I JUST LOST INSPIRATION FOR THIS
PARTICULAR CHAPTER HALFWAY
THROUGH BECAUSE IT'S REALLY
JUST SETTING UP THE NEXT CHAPTER
WITH CLAIRE BEDDOR.

ANYWAY, I MENTIONED IN THE
ORIGINAL EDITION OF THIS BOOK
THAT I LOVE LUCIEN WITH A FIERY
PASSION, AND I STILL STAND BY THAT
SO HE WILL BE FEATURED IN THIS
BOOK A BIT MORE THAN IN THE
ACTUAL SERIES.

AND I'M SORRY I HAD TO INCLUDE
THE WHOLE SCENE WITH RHYSAND'S
MOTHER AND SISTER. IT MAKES ME
SAD BUT IT IS A VERY BIG PART
OF THEIR PAST SO

ANYWAY, NEXT CHAPTER WE GET
THE WHOLE SITUATION WITH CLAIRE
BEDDOR AND HER ...TORTURE.

SORRY THIS ONE WAS KIND OF LAME,
I PROMISE THIS IS A ONE-TIME THING