A Court of Death || ACOTAR

25

Astryn had no real plan. All she knew was an old Hybern commander had Rhys and Helion and had somehow managed to get all of Prythian under her control. Azriel hadn't offered up many details with the shadow he sent, though she wondered if that was because the spymaster really didn't have the details at all.

Armed with nothing but a dagger and her own power, Astryn set off. She and Rhys weren't on good terms, but she couldn't leave him to this. The journey wasn't too long. She could winnow most of the way until she was beyond areas she had already explored.

Through the unfamiliar terrain , she moved quietly on foot. The Suriel had given her some tips on how to get to where she needed to go—a thanks for all the little trinkets and cloaks she had gifted over the centuries.

She found a spot outside to watch for a while, observe the creatures coming and going. She didn't spot Rhys or Helion. She noticed the High Lord of Spring leaving with a vaguely familiar red headed male. Both of their faces were masked.

The red haired male looked in her direction, and she could have sworn he stared right at her despite how no one else had noticed her thus far. His head cocked, and then his lips parted slightly. He was a Vanserra, that much Astryn could tell. After staring at him she realized it was Lucien. He had only been a little boy when she met him, but he was all grown now. She almost smiled, but instead she just gave a slight shake of her head, a silent request that he not make her presence known. Without question or hesitation, he looked away and left with the High Lord of Spring.

Astryn stayed still and quiet and waited through the day and most of the night before she snuck in using the route the Suriel had recommended. And she got close. She inched through the tunnels, clutching the hilt of her dagger and keeping her power just below the surface.

And then she was grabbed from behind. She threw her head back, slamming it into her attacker to free herself before misting the creature, only to have a handful more descend upon her.

"You reek like the High Lord of Night," one of the creatures sneered, "the pretty sister."

The tunnel was filling quickly. She fought with the ones nearest using her blade, and misted the further ones before they could become a problem but there were too many coming too fast to take out all of them. Misting was a power-drainer, but it was also the quickest way of killing a lot at once.

She got to the bottom of her well and was left with hand to hand. And there were too many. She fought as long as she could, and then there was a sharp claw dug into her skin, right below her ear. She thrashed uselessly as the claw sliced through her skin, blood spurting as it sliced down from her ear across her throat, and all the way to her other ear. The creatures cackled and crooned as she bled out, talking about how pleased their master would be about their catch.

One of the creatures dragged her limp, lifeless body through the tunnel to the throne room while the others scattered. Silence descended over the throne room as it dumped Astryn in front of the throne, blood pooling beneath her.

"And what's this?" Amarantha asked, eyebrows raised.

Rhys sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide. He started to take a step forward, towards his sister's bloody, broken body. Then he froze and just stared. Amarantha noticed and her lips curled up into a cold grin.

"Oh, Rhysand," she purred, eyes shining with amusement, "if we cleaned off all that blood, I'd say she looks just like you. Family, is she?"

"She's no one," Rhys lied, trying to keep his mask in place.

"No one? She could practically be your twin," Amarantha commented with a laugh, "let's not lie to each other."

"She's no one," Rhys repeated, "I haven't even seen her in four centuries."

Amarantha opened her mouth to speak, but cut herself off when her eyes zeroed in on Astryn's body, on the skin of her neck. The wound was closing, the jagged slice through her neck healing itself.

"What?" Amarantha hissed, her gaze snapping back to Rhys. "What is she?"

"High Fae," Rhys answered, feigning indifference as he watched his sister slowly come back to life. "Full blooded High Fae."

"High Fae don't miraculously return from the dead," Amarantha snapped as Astryn's chest began rising and falling with deep, even breaths. "What is she?"

"High Fae," Rhys repeated before a wicked smile graced his face, "but the King of the Dead is an old friend of hers. Death wanted to make her his queen. I wonder how he would feel about all this." He waved a hand around, motioning to mess of blood.

Amarantha stared for a moment before her already cold eyes became icy, "slit her throat again. Every time the wound heals, open it again." Rhys's jaw twitched, and Amarantha grinned. "Why don't you do the honors, Rhysand?"

"No," the word slipped out before he even realized it.

"No? That's adorable," she scoffed, "either you slit her throat, or I get someone else to carve her heart out of her chest. Which would do you think Death will have an easier time restoring her from?"

Rhys's steps were slow and careful, and he didn't notice all the eyes on him. Amarantha handed him a dagger, and he took it before lowering himself to the ground, sitting in the pool of Astryn's blood. He carefully maneuvered her so her head rested on his lap, and he gently brushed her hair out of her face. She blinked a few times and stared up at him.

"Rhys?" she murmured, her voice raspy.

"I'm sorry," Rhysand mumbled back, his tone carefully controlled but his anguish clear in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes flicked to the blade in his hand as he moved it to her throat, and she smiled like she knew some grand secret.

"I'll come back," she said, her quiet voice full of confidence, "every time."

Her hand curled over his on the hilt of the dagger, and she put pressure so it dug into her skin, and then she guided Rhys's hand to slice open her throat.