A Court of Blood and Glory

Adriata

Feyre

Five minutes later we were in our fighting leathers, and Azriel was with Cassian, debriefing him on what we needed: a quarter of the Illyrians to fly or winnow to Adriata as fast as they could go to fight Hybern, the other half to remain in the Night Court and defend the lands form any incoming attacks.
We waited on Az to return before winnowing to the Summer Court, finding ourselves standing in streets flooded with blood. I was horrified for a moment, my mind flashing back to when I fought for Velaris, only this was ten times worse; when we'd fought the attor they had been weakened breaking through the wards that surrounded the city, but these troops were not weak, and there were not just attor fighting.
The soldiers raining down on the city were beasts, beasts that had been made with the twisted power of the cauldron, power that had turned whatever they once were into eyeless winged beasts, row upon row of jagged teeth filling their faces, and long thin claws replacing their fingers. They were horrid, and they had no mercy. I saw them snatch children up, ripping them to pieces as they flew past.
The streets were empty of Tarquin's troops, his people defenceless, and I looked around for the High Lord, finding his power in the half moon bay, from his palace, waves of water crashing into the sky, blasting the attor away, some of them smashing to bits when hit by the sheer force of Tarquin's power, but the others, the cauldron's creations, took much more power to destroy, and they rained down on the city, their teeth tearing at flesh and bone. I felt my power rise in response to his, felt it push to be let out, for release, and I was more than happy to oblige.
Rhys and Azriel took to the skies, their wings beating as hard as they could, and they threw themselves into the midst of the Hybern troops, ripping and shredding their way through the army. Mor, Amren and I took to the streets, our powers soaring, our blades swinging, and we cut through the ground troops, refusing to split up, needing to know where the others were in the chaos.
Eventually I heard the beat of Illyrian wings, and turned to find Cassian drop onto the cobblestones behind us, but one look at the general from us all had him soaring into the skies, joining the Illyrians that had arrived, winnowing in in groups of ten or twenty.
Street after street we ran, the streets quite empty at first, but as we got closer to the palace the streets became more crowded, the blood thicker, and we found some of Tarquin's guards fighting too, but not as many as I'd hoped.
I didn't hesitate as I fought with steel and magic, didn't stop to think of what I was doing, who I was killing, only thinking of Alis, of my sisters and father, of the Spring Court servants, and the humans that had been hurt by the might of Hybern. I didn't hesitate, I fought harder.
I didn't dare question Amren as she took off, running towards the palace, I only looked for Mor, knowing that we needed to stay together, and briefly looked to the skies, where I saw my mate killing and killing and killing, Cassian and Azriel near him, their siphons blazing with their power, and the Illyrians around them, picking off the ones that managed to escape the might of Rhys.
Blood and gore and death. That was all I saw, and all that I thought of.
Mor and I made our way through the mess, finally reaching the High Lord of Summer, finding Amren fighting side by side with Varian, and Cressida twirling a sword with deadly accuracy. A nod in our direction from Varian was the only indication I received of acknowledgement. We fought by their sides, and I let the power coursing through my veins run free, water and ice shooting into the sky, chased by fire and darkness. Nothing got past my power, not even the Other beasts. Mor moved from by my side to take down the beasts that weren't in mine and Tarquin's lines of fire.
Soon enough the troops stopped coming, the blood stopped flowing, and the only beings in the sky were the Illyrians that had winnowed in. I had lost all sense of time whilst I fought, forgot to notice the tiredness that wracked my body once I stopped. The sun was directly above our heads, signalling midday, but dark spots danced in my vision.
"Feyre!" Rhys yelled, pulling me into his arms as he found me. "Feyre, are you ok? Are you hurt?" He was so panicked that I worried, and I looked down at myself to find myself soaked in blood, blood so thick it felt like paint. But aside from a few scratched on my arms, and one slightly deeper one across my shoulder – one that I didn't remember receiving – I was fine, but very tired, and I reassured Rhys that I was fine as I sagged into his arms, exhaustion taking over.

Xxx

I awoke in a room that smelled of sea salt, onethat was full of sunlight and a soft breeze. Adriata. I was in Adriata, andRhys was lying besides me, his breath deep. He looked so peaceful, and I didn'twant to disturb him, so I quickly dressed and walked out of the room, where Ifound Mor waiting. She took one look at me before pulling me into a firm hug,holding me there for a few moments.
"What's going on?" I asked, as I didn't have any memory of what happened afterthe battle.
"Cassian and Azriel are with the Illyrians just outside the city, Amren is offwith Variants and I've been waiting for you two to wake up."
"Yes, but what are we going to do now?" I needed to go back to Velaris, back tothe people I was trying to protect.
"Once Rhys is up Tarquin wants to see us. Until then we have no plans of whatto do." She looked expectantly at me.
"What happened to the city?" How manywere killed? Was what I was asking, and she knew it.
"Hybern managed to take out the western side of Adriata before we got here,almost everyone who was living there has been killed, but Tarquin managed tohold the army from getting anywhere else, so the casualties could have beenworse." There was pain in her eyes, but she didn't cry, didn't do anythingother than look at me. We were all past grief.
"And how is Az? And Cassian?" I tried to keep the fear from my voice, fear thatthey had been injured.
"Fine. Cassian decided to throw himself into the thick of it, and managed toget his arms ripped up, but a healer has seen to him, and his injuries arenothing more that some pink skin now. Az managed to keep from harming himself,and is currently helping Cassian control the Illyrians whilst they are patchedup." They were alive. We all were alive. "How are you doing?" She asked me, andshe didn't just mean physically.
"I'm ok." Although I refused to mourn the dead, I couldn't help but feel that we had somehow lost. Something wasn't right.
"I feel it too, that nagging feeling." Mor said, and I wasn't sure what to make of it. I felt like I'd missed something, felt like I'd overlooked a vital part of planning. But Rhys walked in on us before I could speak, and his eyes went right to me, his eyes roaming over every part of me.
"Feyre darling, you were out a long time after yesterday's battle." Yesterday.I'd slept through the whole day, missed a day's worth of planning and strategise.
I don't feel like we won, not with all those that were killed.
You never will. War is not something you will ever feel like you win, even if you survive.
He looked sadly at me. Survive. Not live through it, not win. Survive. Because that was all we could do. Not all of me would come through, the painter with the artist's soul would not live through the pain and suffering. All I was able to do was survive day by day, hoping that I didn't lose too much, hoping that there was a part of me left by the end, hoping that I would not become a monster, a monster that killed the way I had the day before, as all I'd thought of was killing, all I'd cared about was killing, and that scared me more than the war itself.