A Court Of Shadow and Blood

☆ The Phoenix Burns ☆

Eblis visited their bodies. Or, what she could of them.

From what she'd heard, Asryun's body had been dumped into the ocean shortly after her death, right when the tide would sweep away from shore and suck the female's body into the deep depths. Perhaps she would be seen again, fish-eaten and decaying; but then she would have a proper burial. She spoke for a moment with Amaron and Amerilda. Asked questions, asserted her information. But, in the end, she still sent the two out to scan the cold beach for the third Asp Triplet, to see if there was any chance that she had already washed up again. They'd winnowed away, and Eblis had begun the walk.

There was silence, and then there was sorrowful silence. It was so much heavier, like a sword hovering above a neck, and it left her in just as somber a mood.

Madalyn had already been laid in her Princess' casket of stone, a haunting carving of her face and body on the top, her dimming light snuffed out by the layers of earth above her heart. She was already in the royal graveyard, hidden beneath the castle, alongside her father and past kin. Eblis spared only a few moments there, scanning the stone likeness of her daughter, searching for any clues. She could not understand why the Faebane Queen would bury her daughter after killing her, but she supposed it might've been out of loyalty to the King of Hybern as well.

She brushed a hand along the edge of the stone. Eblis simply could not fathom the way her chest sought to cave into itself, or how calmly her tears fell and gathered on her chin without pause. She felt so tired. She felt so empty.

"I miss you, Mads." Her voice sounded too loud. Azriel was behind her, hovering, watching, his shadows coiling and uncoiling. A heavy scent of petrichor was in the room, right beside the clean scent of polished stone and decorated catacombs. There was no part of her not aware of the King in the ground right next to her daughter. She spat near his grave, and with one last kiss to Madalyn's stone cheek, she began the climb back up.

She passed bloody halls on the way there. The bodies were gone, and a few maids were bent over on their hands and knees scrubbing, but the blood was not leaving. It had already seeped into the cracks.

Imillion had not moved. He was still laid on a bed of blue, his face placid and his wings too stiff just like a dead bird. His feathers were dried and crusted, his clothes far from the elegant death they had once portrayed. To this, Eblis summoned Wenry and Kilow to bathe and dress him in fine, Dawn Court clothes. The boy had never been to his true home, never breathed the air of his skies or met his distant mother. But for his death she would fulfill the promise she'd never had the time or will to bring to fruition—it was an old dream of his to leave Hybern once and for all to see where he came from. For his death, she would bring him to his home one last time, a piece of Madalyn with him in the form of one of her favorite blades that would forever be sheathed over his punctured heart. He was not royal, and had never made it official with Madalyn, so he could not be buried with her despite Eblis' best wishes.

She watched as he was dragged into the adjacent bathing chamber, tempted to help her spies clean him as she'd once done for him as a child. When he'd been gross and still growing up into a pair of wings too big for him, and had insisted he didn't need to bathe. But to be a good spy, she'd warned him, he'd need to have no scent. Imillion, ever insistent to please her, had removed his clothes right there and asked her to show him how.

Eblis chuckled to remember that, and could only stare forlornly as he was limply taken into the bathing room. Perhaps for the umpteenth time, she felt tears threaten her eyes.

She pushed from the room, calling for Requeza. She'd meet with the other rulers, finally.

From Montesere, where Patrasche had garnered their help, was the Priest King Eden. He was gathered in his rich robes of violet and jade, his hands bequeathed with rings with different symbols on their fronts, and a kind, infuriating smile. The fae spoke of treaties and peace and trade, as he'd long awaited. He spoke of forgiveness for the past of Hybern and wove the air with his blessings. He even made Eblis swear—not bargain, for the Mother never intended such an unholy ritual of debt—that they would speak soon. She could only guess at what he was thinking of, his eyes so enchanted with his beliefs as he was.