A Court of Dreams and Promise

Chapter Fifty-Three

Azriel

Rhysand smirked at his spymaster, his face painted with the image all of Prythian had seen him as for so long. "Why, hello there," he said again.

"Hello." Azriel stood up, his siphons gearing up, ready for whatever was to come.

If Rhysand noticed Azriel's siphons lighting up, he didn't let on. "May I ask why, exactly you're in my room?" Rhysand raised an eyebrow. "And how did you get in here?"

"Do you know who I am?" Azriel asked, noting the shadow within Rhysand's eyes.

Rhysand's other eyebrow went up. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you know who I am?" Azriel repeated.

A shadow crossed across Rhysand's face as he stared at the shadowsinger, his brows furrowed in concentration. "You were my spymaster," he said slowly, as if he didn't believe it himself. "You are my sister's mate. You are the enemy."

Azriel shook his head. "No. No, I'm not. I'm not the enemy."

"You are on my sister's side," Rhysand said. "You are her mate. I am against my sister's position. That means that you are my enemy."

"He made you believe that," Azriel said.

Rhysand tilted his head. "Who did?"

"Tamlin made you believe that your sister, Velaria, and I were your enemy," Azriel insisted, taking a cautious step forward. Rhysand snarled at the sudden movement, but Azriel took it anyway. "I read your writing, on the paper. You are confused, you don't know who you are. But I know. And so does Velaria.

"You are Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court. You have a wonderful mate, Feyre, and a beautiful son, Nyx. You let the world see you as a terrible person because it protected us, your family," Azriel said. "You may not know it right now, but I am your brother. Cassian is your brother. We are not brothers by blood, Rhys, but we are brothers by heart. You and Velaria...you saved me, Rhys."

Rhysand was silent, completely silent, staring at the ground.

Azriel took another step forward. "Rhys?"

"I – I don't care what you say," Rhysand murmured, tone lethal, and Azriel stepped back. His gaze met Azriel's. "I am not that male anymore, and I don't think I ever will be again."

And Rhysand attacked, lunging forward as he drew a hidden blade.

Azriel staggered backwards immediately, snarling as he drew Truth-Teller.

Rhysand began to swing at him, closer and closer until Azriel was pressed up against the closet door. He pressed the blade into Azriel's throat, drawing blood. Azriel hissed at the prick of pain.

"You are my enemy," Rhysand whispered into Azriel's ear.

Azriel let out a yell and grabbed Rhysand's shoulders, stabbing Truth-Teller into his bicep. Rhysand let out a yelp of pain, stumbling backwards.

Azriel advanced, wings spreading out as he came closer. He wrapped his arms around Rhysand's back, steadying him in place as Azriel pressed both siphon-topped hands onto his High Lord's chest. He watched Rhysand's eyes go from cold to terrified as blue light began to blossom.

Azriel pushed his power through, opening his wings at the same time, and Rhysand blasted into the opposite wall.

Plaster came down over his head, putting white chips of cracked paint in his midnight black hair. He growled, putting a hand up to his head, where blood was now dripping. It dripped down his cheek and Rhysand spat onto the floor, blood there as well.