Bastards (Rhysand x Azriel x Cassian x OC Poly)

~ Twenty-six ~

Rhys is gone. 

He's vanished. His room in the House is bare, as is his study. My first instinct is to ask Azriel and Cassian, but they don't seem to know where he is. So now we're all worried.

"I just don't get it. He wouldn't leave without telling us," Cassian says, dragging a hand down his face as he paces back and forth. 

"Well apparently he has," I say, watching him from where I'm sitting on the windowsill. 

"What if something bad has happened?"

"I'm sure it's nothing horrible. He probably just had something to take care of."

Cassian doesn't look convinced. I stand up, walking over to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. 

"Calm down," I say firmly. "Where could he have gone?" Cassian meets my eyes with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair. 

"There are a few places. Az is out checking them now."

"Good. But if Az doesn't find him, that doesn't necessarily mean he's dead in a ditch." I raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at my lips. "Maybe he just needs space."

"But why?"

"It probably has something to do with what happened at that meeting," I say, poking him in the chest. "Which you still refuse to tell me about."

Cassian looks at me with something akin to guilt. "I really don't think I should."

"What harm will it do? Please. I'm worried."

Cassian sighs. He gestures to the sofa in the corner of the sitting room we're in. "You may want to sit down for this..."

***

"WAR?!" 

"Syl, lower your voice -"

"NO, I WILL NOT FUCKING LOWER MY VOICE! HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM ME FOR SO LONG?!"

"I'm sorry, I'm not even supposed to have told you -"

"YOU -"

"What's going on?" 

Azriel's voice causes us both to spin towards the doorway. I glare at him, not saying anything. I'm not really mad at them. I'm mad at... well, the situation. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to yell at them about it.

"War, Azriel?" I ask, my voice slightly quieter now. Pain darkens his eyes and he glances at Cassian.

"You told her." It isn't a question. Cassian looks away. Azriel sighs, and comes over to me. He cups my face in his hands, meeting my gaze. 

"That's... what it looks like at the moment, yes."

"Over territory?" 

"High Lords have gone to war over less," Azriel says softly. "Rhys has a good reason."

"Yeah. Cassian explained." I swallow, my anger fading into fear as this sinks in. "Will... will the Valkyries fight?"

Azriel hesitates. "I presume so, yes."

I nod. I am a warrior, it's all I've ever wanted to be. And I will gladly fight. But I won't deny that the prospect scares me. 

"I'm scared," I say quietly. 

"I'd be worried if you weren't."

I blow out a long breath. "When?"

"We don't know. I didn't... I didn't find Rhys. I don't know where he is, so I can't ask if he knows anything more. All we have so far is that Beron is preparing for war. So... soon, probably. Very soon."

Cassian comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. I lean back into him with a shaky exhale. Azriel kisses my forehead gently. 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before."

"No, don't be. I'm just glad I know now."

"Whatever happens," Cassian says. "We'll be okay. I swear to you."

***

The Blood Rite qualifier is essentially a giant obstacle course of pure death. I already knew before I got here what it would be like, but that doesn't stop my heart from pounding at the sight of it. It's brutal, with no room for mistakes - some parts move, others are so complex I don't even want to think about how I'll make it through. Cressida and Jessika are standing beside me, both with nervous expressions. 

"Are you sure about this?" Cressida asks. She isn't participating, seeing as she isn't Illyrian. But Jessika is. She turns to Jessika. "I don't want you to get hurt." Jessika takes her hands and gives her a reassuring smile. 

"I won't."

I watch the exchange with interest, a thought manifesting in the back of my mind. Suddenly, a horn is blown, and somebody yells for all participants to make a line. 

"Good luck," Cressida says as she lets go of Jessika's hands. We make our way over to the line. I watch Jessika out of the corner of my eye, a smile playing on my lips. 

"What?" She asks, looking at me nervously. 

"Oh, nothing," I say with a grin. "You two just seem awfully close."

Jessika is silent for a long moment. "I hate you."

"I love you too. How long has it been going on?"

"A month or so," Jessika says with a sigh. I can see her eyes shining though, and the hint of a smile on her lips. I nudge her with my shoulder. 

"Good for you."

She laughs. "Thanks."

The line progresses quickly as each Illyrian begins the course, twenty seconds between each of them. I fidget with the ends of my braids to stop myself from biting my nails. Every minute we wait, I get more and more anxious. Not that I might get hurt, but that I might not make it. I have to make it. I have to.

***

I made it. I'm going to the Blood Rite. 

I stagger into my room, every part of my body aching. But I did it. Despite myself, I grin wildly, even laughing. Is it maniacal? Yes. Do I care? No. Because I can finally achieve what I've worked for and wanted my whole life. I can prove to everyone - my father, my whole family, the rest of those sexist motherfuckers - that I can do anything they can, and more. 

I am the rock against which the surf crashes, nothing can break me.

I will never break. Never. In this moment, I feel more powerful than anyone else. I feel like I'm worth something, perhaps for the first time in my life. It's not over yet, a voice in my head whispers. You still have the Blood Rite to win.

And I will win it. I will win that thing, and then nobody will ever call me weak again.