Daisy Blooms - Azriel

Chapter 11

Me and Azriel make it back to the Night Court and go straight to bed because we've been flying for days straight. Then the next day Rhysand wants to have a meeting for us to discuss what we found out.

We're all at the meeting room waiting for everyone to get there. Finally, Nesta enters and everyone is there.

Amren's red lips curled, her bob of black hair gleaming. Feyre cleared her throat. "All right, Az. Let's hear it."

Azriel folded his wings, shadows writhing around his ankles and neck. "Queen Briallyn has been busier than we thought, but not in the way we expected."

Azriel went on, "In the week we've been watching her, we learned what her next steps are."

"Get on with it," Amren snapped, rustling in her chair.

"The other queens indeed fled from Briallyn weeks ago, as Eris said. She alone sits in the throne room of their shared palace. And what Eris revealed about Beron was true, too: the High Lord visited Briallyn on the continent, pledging his forces to her cause. But Briallyn's gathering of armies, the alliance with Beron, is only the auxiliary force to what she has planned." He shook his head, shadows slithering over his wings. "Briallyn wishes to find the Cauldron again. In order to retrieve her youth."

"She'll never attain the Cauldron" Amren said waving a hand gleaming with rings. "No one but us, Miryam, and Drakon know where it's hidden. Even if Briallyn did uncover its location, there are enough wards and spells on it that no one could ever break through."

"Briallyn knows this," Azriel said gravely. "What Vassa suspected is true. The deathlord Koschei has been whispering in Briallyn's ear. He remains trapped at his lake, but his words carry on the wind to her. He is ancient, his depth of knowledge fathomless. He pointed Briallyn toward the Dread Trove-not for her sake, but for his own ends. He wishes to use it to free himself from his lake. And Briallyn is not the puppet we believed her to be-she and Koschei are allies." He added to Cassian, "You need to ask Eris whether Beron knows about this. And the Trove."

Nesta found herself asking, "What's the Dread Trove?"

Amren's eyes glowed with a remnant of her power. "The Cauldron Made many objects of power, long ago, forging weapons of unrivaled might. Most were lost to history and war, and when I went into the Prison, only three remained. At the time, some claimed there were four, or that the fourth had been Unmade, but today's legends only tell of three."

"The Mask," Rhys murmured, "the Harp, and the Crown."

Feyre frowned at her mate. "They're different from the objects of power in the Hewn City? What can they do?"

"The Mask can raise the dead," Amren answered for Rhys. "It is a death mask, molded from the face of a long-forgotten king. Wear it and you may summon the dead to you, command them to march at your will. The Harp can open any door, physical or otherwise. Some say between worlds. And the Crown..." Amren shook her head. "The Crown can influence anyone, even piercing through the mightiest of mental shields. It's only flaw is that it requires close physical proximity to initially sink its claws into a victim's mind. But wear the Crown, and you could make your enemies do your bidding. Could make a parent slaughter their child, aware of the horror but unable to stop themselves."

"And these things were lost?'' Nesta demanded.

Rhys threw her a frown. "Those who possessed them grew careless. They were lost in ancient wars, or to treachery, or simply because they were misplaced and forgotten."

"What does it have to do with the Cauldron?" Nesta pushed.

"Like calls to like," Feyre murmured, looking to Amren, who nodded. "Because the Trove was Made by the Cauldron, so might the Trove find its Maker." She angled her head. "Briallyn was Made, though. Can't she track the Cauldron herself?"