AN : Hi guys! Just thought I'd Say that I have no ownership of the photos that I use, I have just found them all on Pinterest. :)
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TW : Voilence, Gore, Bad Language and SA references.
Chapter 3 | Rage
Ember
The High Lord of the Night Court stared at the blue eyed shadow singer in utter disbelief.
The Night Warrior glared back.
She felt clawing. Clawing against her shields.
If she was going to die, she was going to die with herself to be the only one knowing her memories. No one else.
A face of stone still stared, but she could see within his purple eyes he was curious.
Wandering against her shields.
She already knew all of the Inner Court from stories and tales, of how they defeated Hybern. Rhysand was the high Lord, the daemeti, Cassian the mighty general of the war camps and Azriel - the spymaster.
Followed along with the former-mortal High Lady, Feyre Archeron.
She didn't know the rest.
She didn't deem it necessary to know the rest.
"So when do I get my prize?" The general sneered, resting his foot in between her shoulders blades as he pushed down, causing her to hit the floor again.
Her cheekbone, along with the side of her nose and chin taking the impact.
Bastard. He will be the last to die.
She would enjoy watching his stomach crawl on the floor.
She grunted at the force against her cheekbone.
She had barely had any chance to observe the other residents in the room, the proximity to the nearest exits and how she could get out of there, the fucking quickest way she could.
You're so fucking stupid Ember.
The only resident she had payed particular attention to was the other shadow singer. The spymaster of the Night court. For his eyes seemed to hold some sort of question.
Her shadows felt weird.
Not only her shadows but her whole being when he laid his eyes on her. And it infuriated her.
Rhys sneered at the general it seemed.
That's odd.
"There was no agreement to a prize in the search."
A broken laugh.
Ember attempted to lift her head as she coughed out a laugh.
"A prize? My my, I didn't realise I meant that much to you" her voice was almost hoarse from no use.
The sarcasm dripping from her tongue
and the High lord's comment resulted in the general picking her up by her hair to pull her to his chest, knees still on the floor.
YOU ARE READING
A Court of Death and Destruction
Fantasy"She was darkness and death moulded into the perfect form for him. For him. She was the darkness that was unending and unforgiving, unforgotten and unbinding." Ember Avilon. Warrior of the night. Slaughterer of kingdoms. Her name was known but forgo...
