ACOMAF (Rhys's POV)

There Are Different Kinds of Darkness (Chapter 30)

When Feyre and I landed on the rocky outcropping above the House of Wind for her first sparring lesson, Cassian was already there wrapping his fists, an arrogant grin plastered all over his face. I set Feyre down and her brows rose slowly as she took in Cassian wearing his leathers - all however many pounds of thick, corded muscle of him.

Cassian beckoned Feyre with a single finger. "Good luck," I managed to sing into her ear before she'd gotten too far. A curt prick and adjoining scowl was all the reply I got.

After Cassian showed Feyre how to wrap her hands and wrists to protect the bones and muscles best, he let her finish prepping them and came over to meet me for a brief check-in.

"Are you going to tell me to go easy on her?" Cassian said.

"Not a chance," I said with a single shake of my head, hands in my pockets.

"Good," he replied, and that shit-eating grin dropped. "Go in and change into your leathers then. Az'll be back soon." I cocked my head to one side. The sun was directly overhead, barely mid-day. Cassian leveled a knowing look at me. "Mor seemed to think it was a good idea to read on the balcony not long after breakfast ended. That was not quite an hour ago."

"Ah."

"Ah indeed."

He clapped me on the shoulder and went back to Feyre who was flexing her hands in the new bandages, testing the new feel of them against her skin. "They're not paintbrushes," Cassian barked at her, making her jump. "Get in the ring." Feyre's eyes narrowed with a sharp edge to them. I chuckled and took my leave, excited to see how much of Cassian was left standing by the time I came back.

"Shit."

I spat the ground behind me before whirling in a quick spin to meet Azriel's second blow. His sword came down brutally this afternoon.

We'd been going at it for a good hour, possibly even more, Azriel showing no signs of slowing down any time in the near future. To our right, Cassian corrected Feyre on her punches, something I was only vaguely able to pay attention to as Azriel brought his sword against me with ease - and a good deal of power.

I was either far more rusty than I had realized, or Azriel was exceptionally pissed off for how his morning had gone. Judging by the cold, hard look he'd given me after I'd found him in the living room and intruded on his conversation with Mor, I would have guessed it was the latter.

They'd been sitting so close, on a friendly, plush cushioned seat of a velvet fabric. Her hand rested gently on his knee. His eyes had flashed when he met my gaze, frustration returning to the surface behind whatever calm Mor had managed to lull him into. I could only imagine how much worse it would have been had she not been there.

The visit to the mortal realms must not have gone well, I'd taken it.

"They've got some sort of barrier around the palace," Azriel had told me after I'd been invited to join them. Mor didn't leave. "I expected some kind of protection around their general quarters, but not magic and not nearly to this extent."

I nodded once as Azriel's lips drew tight. Mor's hand was still on his knee. "He's going to take some time to consider the best way of handling those protections so as not to sound the alarm that we're sniffing about."

A delicate way of saying Azriel was pissed as hell he hadn't been able to get in today. Not surprising, given his tendency towards efficiency and never failing - not ever. Azriel's methods were brutal and unrelenting at best, and most especially where his own capabilities were concerned.

"We'll figure it out," I said. "I'm glad you spotted the wards first. That means the queens are far more clever than we had dared hope and that we have more to consider than originally planned. Especially if they're already aware Hybern's strategizing moves and plotting against it." A small consolation for the day, but it signaled success to some degree.