Olethros

fourteen - azriel

"I'm not finding her. I think I'm going to take a trip to the Spring Court to speak with Tamlin. Maybe she went there to try and stop the arrangement."

Rhys's voice in my mind had my body jolting. I dipped down, dangerously close to the rooftops of the slums. I let out a breath and brought myself higher, sending out my shadows to find Rhysand. He wasn't thinking clearly. If he made that choice, his father would kill him.

The Heir is in the House of Wind.

That was quicker than I expected. I shifted directions, shooting up to where the House sat within the cliff side. I cursed as rocks fell from the force of my landing. Thank the Cauldron, Rhys was in the sitting room with Mor when I walked in. They were arguing, but there was a ringing in my ears and I couldn't understand what they said.

"You can't," I panted, rubbing at the side of my face. They both turned to me. Gods, Rhys was a mess. There was no light to his eyes, his hair was disheveled.

"Can't what?" He snarled. I lifted my chin.

"You can't go to the Spring Court to question Tamlin," I responded as coolly as I could. Mor narrowed her eyes at me; Rhysand turned to face me fully. I was entirely aware of the way his fingers curled into fists. He was still learning of his power, but I knew well enough that if he wanted, I'd be dead before I took my next breath.

"Why can't I?"

"Because if she is not there, you risk exposing the fact that we don't know where Freyja is. If the Spring Court knew that? Fuck, Rhys. Your father would kill us all. They can't know that his most valuable possession is missing." Those words tasted like ash on my tongue.

"She is not-."

"I know that she isn't, but they don't see her the way you do, Rhysand. Freyja is seen as an object to be sold for more power and less war. If you let the Spring Court know she is missing, they will be at your father's throat for not following through on their deal. You know that."

Rhysand's nostrils flared and I could've sworn his skin thinned. I felt the primal fear of standing in the presence of a creature far more dangerous than myself, and with the way his eyes flicked down to my throat and his lips twitched, he knew that. Mor stood frozen behind him, her eyes darting between us. If he decided to kill me now, Mor would only be able to slow him.

"Fuck, fine."

I let out a slow breath through my nose.

"I still can't find her, Azriel. Her mind is more blocked off than I'd ever felt. She's running and I don't think she fucking cares if she never sees me again. Why would she do this? Why block me out? I could help her!"

His anger wasn't soothed by his realization that he couldn't go to the Spring Court. Quite the opposite, actually. I hardly blinked before the center table was smashed and the couch was thrown against the dining table. I waited. Until the sitting room was entirely crushed, I waited. Mor slunk back, hiding behind my wings.

Finally, surrounded by the rubble of his sorrow, Rhysand screamed. I felt it so deep within me. The way his voice cracked as his knees slammed into the wood floor, the way the window threatened to smash at the deafening sound of him. He'd tear this city apart, and it felt like my soul would follow. He would only ever show his distress in front of us and he needed to release it in order to focus again; so we let him.

"Oh, my Gods," I heard Mor mutter just before she slipped beneath my wing and wrapped her arms around my waist. In any other moment, I would've savored the touch- or thrown her away from me- but I let her hide her face in my chest as I stared at my brother.