A Court Of Shadow and Blood

☆ Truth Be Told ☆

The stone whispered, water trickling through its interior and wearing it away bit by bit. Down in the dungeons, that whisper became a muffled roar as if it were a waterfall trapped in stone, and the artisans who had hollowed the mountain out had done their work to precisely show that. Great raging waves of frothing water flowed over the walls, mixed with the carvings of bones and drowning animals. 

The sound was often times described as singing; it drove some prisoners to insanity because they couldn’t sleep over the noise, couldn’t think over it. That was exactly why Cassian and Rhysand had brought them there.

Under the Mountain, or in other words: the Hewn City.

They’d entered without alerting the Steward above, instead winnowing straight to the underground cellars where most interrogations were carried out. Azriel normally would’ve been the one there, but they’d left the Spymaster to Elain and to keep an eye on Eblis. So it was Cassian instead, Illyrian scales shining in crude lighting, that leaned over the beast while Rhysand lounged against the stone wall with a cold mask.

Cassian pressed close to the lone attor—the others still passed out and held in different chambers. Foul air slapped him in the face, but he schooled his expression into one of iron cunning. His voice was nothing but a growl as he asked, “Why have you come to Velaris?” 

One of those wide, pointed ears swiveled, as if twitching. The singing of the walls hissed on.

“Let me ask again, why have you come to Velaris?” Rhysand quirked a dark brow as the attor merely twitched an ear again, lip curling in a quiet growl.

“You realize,” the High Lord began in a slow, dangerous drawl, “that there are two others who can talk even if you don’t. You are highly disposable.” The warning was severely apparent.

The attor, silvery fangs glistening, only said in a voice like shifting dunes, “I am the messenger. No one else has the answers you need.”

Rhysand raised his other brow. “Is that so?” He jerked a chin in Cassian’s direction, and the male grinned with a devilish light. A blade was in his hand faster than the attor could blink one of it’s beady black eyes, the sharp edge of it nicking the rough skin of its neck. 

“As I see it, we don’t need any answers from you. We have Eblis, which you seem to so sorely want, and she is a very willing participant in answering our questions even if you aren’t.” Perhaps a little bit of an overplay on his part, but he pushed the thought aside and focused on the attors responding grin. 

“Very willing indeed,” it hissed. “Then why are you here?”

Cassian pressed the blade deeper. “Maybe we’re just a little blood thirsty tonight?” 

Rhysand wasn’t sure how to read the bat-like faces of the attors, but the way it’s grin disappeared seemed an answer enough. Cassian pressed closer, as if understanding the same thing.

“Let’s try again,” Cassian growled, silvery blood beginning to slip over his dagger. “Why have you come to Velaris?”

The attor pointed a chin towards Rhysand. The movement jerked the blade deeper. “Your High Lord has already answered that.”

“You want Eblis?” A sharp nod. “Why?”

The attor grinned again. “Your High Lord has already answered that.” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, turning to Rhysand. “You’ve made this so easy, you know that?” Before the male could even respond, Cassian tore his blade deep across the attor’s shoulder and returned it to the throat. The beast grunted, but remained still so as to not rip it’s own head off. “Start answering questions or your arm comes all the way off.” Cassian’s hazel eyes were dark with malicious intent, enough so that even Rhysand had to hide his blink of surprise.