Daisy Blooms - Azriel

Chapter 23

Azriel P.O.V.

Me and Cassian flew around the queens' once-shared castle. Patches of snow still crusted the hilly, open land, though the first buds and sprouts of spring poked through. We kept high enough that breathing was difficult, so high that we'd appear no more than a very large bird to any human on the ground. But with our Fae eyesight, we could clearly make out what crossed the land.

We saw nothing of Eris, though. No red hair, no lick of fire, no hint of his soldiers. Cassian, circling in the opposite direction, signaled that he hadn't seen anything, either.

It was an effort to stay focused. To keep flying, circling like vultures, when my mind drifted to the northwest. To the Illyrian Mountains and the Blood Rite and Daisy.

Had she survived the initial surge? Of course she did. The warriors would be waking by now.

Fucking Eris. How could he have been reckless enough to let those soldiers get close?

I again scanned the terrain below, fighting to keep my breathing steady in the thin air. We'd find Eris swiftly.

And what then? We couldn't do anything to help Daisy. But at least we could be closer to the Rite. Should the worst happen...

I shut down the thought. I'd allow no other alternative.

Daisy would survive. All of them will.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nesta slid back down the hill until she reached the knife, pried it free, and tucked it into her belt. Then climbed the hill again, keeping low, as she peered over the crest once more.

And came face-to-face with a razor-sharp arrowhead.

"Get up," the warrior growled. Shit.

Where I am hidden, he hasn't spotted me yet.

The Illyrian warrior was smaller than the one Nesta had killed, but this male had gotten his hands on a bow and arrow. He's too big for even me and Nesta to take down. I'll follow them to wherever he takes her and come up with a plan to take him and his possible companions out when they're vulnerable.

"Give me your weapons," he ordered, eyes darting over her, noting the blood coating her face, crusting her chin and neck.

Nesta didn't move. Didn't so much as lower her chin.

"Give me your fucking weapons," the male warned, voice sharpening.

"Where did you come from?" she demanded, as if he didn't have an arrow pointed at her face. Not a good time to be demanding things right now Nesta. And then before he had time to answer, "Was another female there?"

The male blinked- and it was the only confirmation Nesta needed before she handed over the arrow. Slowly, slowly reached for the knife. "Did you kill her, too?" Her voice had dropped to pure ice.

"The crippled bitch? I left her to the others." He grinned. "You're better prey anyway." Oh, he's defiantly getting killed.

Emerie. She couldn't be far off, if this male had already seen her. Nesta pulled the knife free.

The male kept the arrow pointed. "Drop it and back up ten paces."

Emerie was alive. And nearby. And in danger.

And this motherfucker wouldn't stop us from saving her.

Nesta bowed her head, shoulders slumping. He smiled.

He didn't stand a chance.

Nesta lowered the knife. And flicked her wrist fingers she let it soar toward the male. Right into his groin.