A Court of Dark and Decay

Chapter 43- Go.

"I had always thought I would have to learn to get along with him." Rhys spoke as the group approached, headed by Lori. Amren, his own second in command, flocked behind her followed by a few other females.
"I suppose I don't have to worry about that anymore, do I?"
Lori stopped a few yards before him, the wind biting stray hairs from her braid. "No. You're welcome."
He cocked his head. "Was it your doing?"
A few of the women behind her snickered. Lori's hands fell on her hips. "No, it wasn't."
Az spoke up, his dark eyes assessing each movement from the group before them.
"I don't suppose you'll tell us who did."
"No, I will not."
The High Lord stepped to the side, showing the bloodied sword shrine to the group.
"Will you tell me who did this?"
Amren, stepping before Lori, spoke sharply. "You know who did that, Rhysand."
Rhys looked to Az, thier fears confirmed. A female, small and stout with blonde bouncing curls stepped forward, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. She held it out to Rhys, her chin held high even as her hand shook.
Az did not fail to notice how Sera stepped forward, a gentle hand on the blonde's shoulder.
"This is the list of males. You'll find fiveteen names on the list but only thirteen bodies here." Her voice was stronger then Rhys had expected it to be, the defiance a trembling bass in her throat.
"Where are the other two?" He asked, grabbing the list and handing it to Az to look over the names.
Sera spoke up, her hand still on the blonde's shoulder. "You have all that's left of Terthal's body, but the last name.-"
Amren interrupted, a small smile tugging her cheeks. "It's Kallon. She's going to kill Kallon."
Rhys stilled, his eyes locked onto his second. "That isn't funny."
"Because it's not a joke." Lori answered, "None of this is."
"You think we aren't aware of that?" Az snapped, his hand pushing through his hair as he continued to read the list. "What is 'The Pit?' She keeps mentioning it in the note, next to the names."
From the back, a voice spoke as it walked to the front of the group.
"The Pit is a secret meeting place for those involved in the illegal underground of Illyria." The crows parted as Devlon's wife stepped forward to face the High Lord, her husbands blood still staining her skin. "It's also the primary location of a sex and torture ring run by my husband. Needless to say," She lifted her hands and rubbed them together, flakes of dried blood falling out the ground. "He doesn't run it anymore."
Rhys said nothing, couldn't think of what to say. Under his nose, this whole time. What did he think was happening? Where did he think Devlon was going every night?
The note was crumpled in Az's hand as he spat to Lori, "Did you know about this?" His voice trembled, his anger barely restrained.
Lori kept her calm, though, as she replied. "There is nothing that happens at Windhaven without my knowledge."
"And you didn't think to tell me?" His teeth ground as he faced his second, his hands dancing with shadows.
"If you didn't notice, the names on that list are all high ranking generals, military and community leaders, people who you have told me are critical to the success of the Illyrian army." Lori stepped forward, daring to challenge Az and his defense. "For the last millennia, the High Lords of the Night Court have sat back and watched as the females under their protection were murdered, raped, and bought like cattle. Why would we have any faith in your guardianship after time and time again the females of Illyria were silenced and forgotten?"
Rhys put a hand out, hoping to steady this conversation, stop this slaughter. "Lori, you-"
"Where is she." Az hissed from before her, chest to chest with Lori. She absolutely refused to back down.
"Nesta has begun the Blood Rite."
All eyes were on Iona as she straightened to her full height. For the first time, she spread her wings of bone and blood, her wingspan as massive as ever.
"And we are joining her." A beat of silence. "If... I mean if that's okay."
The blonde elbowed Iona in the ribs.
"Ouch, wha- oh! I mean.." Those mighty wings deflated as she stumbled over her words. "That last part, I didn't mean that last part, we're going no matter what you say."
Az looked to Lori, still in his face. "You're endangering the lives of all these females. You've always been stubborn, Lori, but this is fking insanity."
Lori spat back, "So males can risk thier lives but female's can't? You know full well that none of us are delicate. Not anymore, not after what we've been through."
"What you've been through? You haven't-"
The blonde spoke, her voice quiet compared to the shouting of the two spies. "I was seven."
Silence echoed her soft voice. She looked to the ground, her mind somewhere in the past, recalling horrors unimaginable.
"I was nine." Sera spoke next, eyes glued to the blonde.
Iona's wings folded in, her shoulders hunching. "I don't even remember when it started."
"If you think there is a single female in this camp who hasn't experienced it, you're wrong." Lori stood still, her dark eyes distant. "I was ten, Azriel."
The blonde spoke again, perhaps the most daring words anyone had ever said to the Spymaster of the Night Court.
"I can guarantee your mother would know exactly what we're talking about."
Az's breath evaporated, as if he'd just been struck.
"You're looking at me like that because you know I'm right." She said, looking at him but not really seeing him.
Rhys lifted a hand and spoke only one word.
"Go."
Az turned to the High Lord, his face pale. "Rhys, you cannot-"
"One condition." The High Lord's eyes were dark, his chin high. "You all return, or none of you do."
Amren looked to Rhysand as if he were a lune. "Rhysand-"
"If even one of you dies, none of you are ever welcome in Illyria or the Night Court again."
Amren and Azriel scrambled to stop it, to convince the High Lord otherwise, but Lori's voice rang out above them, calm and collected.
"Are you proposing that as if it will be a challenge?" She said, her shoulder squared.
But Rhys did not take the bait, he simply turned to face the sword and spoke over his shoulder,
"Go. Before I changed my mind."
Without so much as a word, the group of females turned and started back toward the main camp. Amren stayed behind with the Inner Circle, watched the females walk to their death.
"One of them is going to die." Az spoke, his fists clenched and his throat tight.
"Well," Amren mused, "Statistically speaking 1 in every 7 Illyrians die in the Rite."
Az finished her thought. "And there's five of them."
"Exactly. Their chances are actually quite good."
The shadowswinger shook his head. "But none of them are fighters. They have such minimal training, no knowledge of how to approach a survival situation-"
"The Illyrian females have been training every morning for months."
Both of the bat boys looked to her and spoke at the same time, "What?"
Amren turned to them and laughed, looking to the sword before them. "By now, even the weakest among them- Rosie the blonde- she knows how to down a full grown Illyrian in seven different ways. When these women started training, they all took to it as if it was a lifeline."
The anchient one looked back to the group, now heading into the tents at the edge of camp. "For some of them it was their only reprieve from the horror of thier days."
"You've been training the Illyrian women?"
"Cassian has."
Az whipped around to face Amren. "He's been what?!"
"Wow," Amren chuckled, "You're really bad at your job, aren't you?"
"Both of you stop talking." Rhys stood, his eyes not on the group of women in the distance, but on a cozy cabin in the corner, where someone waited for him. "I have to go."
Without a word, and with rioting protest from Az, Rhys shot into the sky, heading for that cabin.

Landing hard on the front stoop, his hands twisted the knob and opened the door. His feet padded through the space, his legs pulling him up the stairs to the bedroom on the second floor.
But Rhys was not in his cabin. No, Rhys was far far away.
Feyre noticed that the second he opened the door.
She was feeling better this morning, the pain dull and aching instead of sharp and throbbing. She sat up slightly as his form filled the doorway.
"Rhys?" Feyre asked, her voice rough. "Rhys, what's happening?"
His shoulders slumped, his eyes glazed over even as he looked at her.
"5O years." He whispered.
Feyre knew. Feyre knew then that Rhys was far far away, trapped in a bed with a monster.
"Hey, don't go away, come back to me." She whispered as she did her best to stand. Her legs wobbled underneath her, but Rhys was already there, an arm around her waist.
He was still missing, still in that dark cavernous place. Feyre placed a gentle hand on either side of his face.
"I spent 50 years there. To protect my people. To keep them safe."
Feyre tried to meet his gaze, to make him look at her. "I know you did, I know. And we are safe, all of us."
"No." Rhys's fingers were ice as he wrapped them around Feyre's wrists. "No, they aren't, they've never been."
"I spent 5o years being tortured and pawned and bred like I was nothing but I thought it kept my people safe so I endured it so they could sleep peacefully at night and I-" Feyre shushed him, trying to quell his mind and bring him calm, but as Rhys' eyes locked onto hers, she knew she had to let him finish.
"It was for nothing. All of it, every second of those 50 years. It was happening here the whole time. That pain, that disgust and shame- females here know it, they've endured it for centuries."
"Rhys, what are you talking about?" Feyre felt Rhys start to shake.
"How did I not notice? How could I not see it?" As Rhys spoke, his eyes frantically scanned the room, as if he would find the answer. "I should-I should have seen it. Of all people, I should have known."
Feyre tried to hold his face, keep him there with her, but he stepped back, as if he couldn't bear to touch her for another minute.
"I tried to forget it, I've tried to convince myself I'm past it, but I look at my people now and all I can see is the emptiness I felt Under The Mountian." Feyre stepped toward him, but he took a step back. "All I can see is how I failed them, how my suffering meant nothing because they were suffering right along with me and I'm.."
Feyre watched the love of her life, her mate, crumble to his knees before her. She crouched before him, her eyes swimming with tears. The pain, the loss of the pregnancy, and whatever news Rhys had just found out had been too much.
But here was safe. He did not need to be the High Lord of the Night Court here. In their chambers, in her arms, he was just Rhys.
"I feel dirty. And I can scrub until I bleed but I don't know if I'll ever be clean." He whispered, only loud enough for Feyre to hear. "And every single female here knows exactly what that's like."
Feyre listened, patient. She offered her hand, letting him decide how much physical contact he wanted in this moment. Rhys slowly reached out with both hands and folded her palm in between his.
"My sacrifice meant nothing. I didn't prevent any suffering." He looked to his mate, his face red and tear tracks glinting over his dark skin. "I was a coward who hid under a rock."
"Rhysand." Feyre squeezed his hand gently. "Velaris is quiet in the early mornings, isn't it?"
He nodded, eyebrows knit together.
Feyre offered her other hand, which he grasped. "The Sidra is the clearest water I've ever seen. You can see straight through to the bottom, right?"
Rhys nodded again, the shaking beginning to wane.
"And sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll see there's a group of stars that bend just like the rainbow over the river where it meets the sea. Have you seen that?"
He nodded, his eyes still locked onto hers. For the first time since her treatment, Feyre opened the bond to him. She had closed it to prevent him from feeling the pain, but in this moment, she knew what he needed. Rhys needed someone with him, connected completely. A tear dripped down his lashes as he crossed that connection.
If it were not for your sacrifice, Velaris wouldn't exist. I would be dead. The rainbow would be gone and the Sidra would be clouded. Because of you, because of those 50 years, The Sidra, the Rainbow, Velaris, and I are all safe and sound.
Drawing mindless shapes into his forearms, Feyre continued as Rhys closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against her collarbone.
I know you've never recovered from it. I don't know half of the horrors you had to endure there.
Feyre wrapped her arms around him, his form melting into hers. She kissed his head, one arm around his waist and the other wrapping around his shoulders and into his hair.
I don't need to know what they were,
She spoke as she opened that final door in her mind.
But let me share the burden of how they felt.
Feyre sat with Rhys as he relinquished his soul to the trauma that had been haunting him for the last year and a half. And the High Lord of the Night Court cried as his High Lady saw the darkest corners of his soul, and did not back away.