^^imagine this, but with ink swirls rather than flowers. You'll know what I'm talking about. ;)

The fight goes on as we clear the palace, then move out into the streets. We're all covered in blood, our own and others, along with bruises and cuts from battle. Mor and I walk the streets searching for Hybern survivors to strike down while Feyre takes a rest. No other fae dare poke out their heads as I stalk the streets, but a few peek out when the sunlight glints off Mor's reddened gold hair. When we've finished with this section, I look to the skies before realizing who I'm looking for. Of course, I don't find him near us. My eyes lower as I sigh and look over to Mor approaching Feyre who looks stiff as a board.

My brows furrow at the glassy look in Feyre's eyes before I guess that she's reached out to Rhysand. And not liked what she saw. Mor and I lock eyes and she doesn't need to ask for me to flap my wings and swallow my groan at the ache as I fly up to the nearest roof to make sure there's no one around them. My eyes and shadows are sweeping as I hear Mor call Feyre's name only to receive no response. Fear surrounds her though. I can smell it.

Despite myself, I reach for Azriel just to make sure I can feel him. Nothing. Not a whisper. Worry enters my heart even as I continue scanning the area around Mor and Feyre. The ships are starting to come in while Hybern is being pushed out. Mor calls Feyre again, but instead of getting an answer, she pukes to the side. Mor quickly guides Feyre deeper into the alley while I follow on the rooftops with my blades still out and shining with blood. They speak softly while I reach for Azriel again. "Azriel." A simple word, but the silence from the other end is deafening. "Azriel, so help me—"

"Kaira." The response sends relief as strong as an ocean wave washing over me. "We're well. Don't worry. Are you—"

"We're safe. We're going to find you all soon."

"Stay safe and come fast, then." He sends before the bond quiets. Sighing, I move down into the alley when Mor waves and we winnow back into the palace. It's a sad sight. Soldiers drenched in blood limp around the grand halls or are carried by the warriors that can still walk. Moans, groans, and yelps of pain are in the air and my shadows calm as if they know that it's not the time to dance. Mor, Feyre, and I wander the halls before the two next to me stop to stare at a male at the other end of the hall. Varian, going by Azriel's description. Mor's power slides between us while I step in front of both women with my wings slightly splayed. His eyes rove over me and there's a little shock to be found there, but more exhaustion than anything.

"He's in the oak dining room." He says and I lax slightly when it seems like this male is more friend than foe. Feyre nods and we keep close to her as she leads the way through the throngs of people. We only stop when she does and I'm relatively certain this he isn't who she thought it was. He's lovely. His silver armor is flecked with blood and gore, but his dark skin still shimmers with beauty like the sun on the sea. When his eyes lift and land on the three of us, they consider the two to my left with familiarity, but widen when he sees me.

"Leave us." He says as his eyes rove over the others in the room, then return to us. Everyone leaves without looking at him before he speaks again. "I heard you cleared the palace. And helped clear the island." He speaks quietly, but not without power.

"Your soldiers fought bravely beside us," Mor responds with a tilt of her head, but the male keeps his turquoise eyes trained on Feyre. I swallow the growl in my throat.

"I thought you came to finish the job. I heard Tamlin took you. Then I heard the Spring Court fell. Collapsed from within. Its people in revolt. And you had vanished. And when I saw the Illyrian legion sweeping in...I thought you had come for me, too. To help Hybern finish us off." Tarquin, for this is assuredly the High Lord of this court, speaks low and sharp. Mor is the one who answers.

"We would never ally with Hybern." She tells him in the same tone.

"I am talking to Feyre Archeron." The words slice through the room and both Mor and I bristle.

"And you'll choose your words very carefully as you do," I say and don't flinch when his eyes snap to mine. My shadows wave as if to say hello and I briefly wonder what his greatest fear is. Feyre's hand on my arm has me pulling back and my wings tucking tighter to my body.

"Why?" Tarquin demands and I'm not sure if it's to me or to Feyre. The latter answers.

"Our dreams are the same." And the longing in her voice pangs my heart.

"Is that how you justified stealing from me?" He asks and I practically feel Feyre's pain at the words.

"My mate and I have our reasons, Tarquin," Rhys says and the three of us lax slightly at the sound of his voice. Talons skim the smoke around my mind and I allow Rhys inside. "Go to the Illyrian camp on the far hill. Azriel is restless." I hesitate only a moment with a glance at my friends. "I'll protect them. Go." With that assurance, I use what's left of my strength to vanish into the folds of darkness before reappearing among winged soldiers who stare openly at me despite everything around us.

"I'm here. Where are you?" I reach for Azriel even as I feel the tug and follow it on my own. He doesn't respond, but the tug strengthens and I hurry through the camp towards the tent it emanates from. I toss the flaps aside and let loose a long breath when I see the scarred soldier before me with a table full of papers while others move around him, supplying information, no doubt. The flurry doesn't stop him from looking up when I come in and locking onto my gaze.

"Get out." Azriel bids while most in the tent stare at me with wide eyes as I slowly walk around the table to get to him. Still, they vanish or head out before Azriel and I meet. His hands slide onto my face, then down onto my neck as he leans forward to press our foreheads together. I reach up and frame his face as we take a few breaths to just soak each other in. Even our shadows seem to calm while our wings spread slightly so we exist alone in our own small space.

"Minor injuries only," I report softly and he hums while I leave the bond open so he can ascertain my bearings for himself.

"For me as well. Cassian was hurt more seriously, but he's fine."

"Mor and Feyre too. Minor injuries." And psychological ones, but those aren't exactly new. His fingertips brush over my curls and my eyes shut a moment as I take in the comfort of his touch. "We need to get back. We need to help." I whisper and he nods, but we both hold on for another few moments.

"Watch yourself. You're a rarity here. You're one of the extremely few female Illyrian warriors here." He warns and I nod. That explains the staring, anyway.

"I'll find you later," I promise as we release each other and take a step back while our eyes burn.

"Or I'll find you." He says in return and a hum is as much of a laugh I can manage.

"Good luck hunting to whoever's first." I bid and relish the feeling of his eyes on me as I slip out.

It's still a mess out here and I steel myself against the screams, the blood, and the stares before getting to work. I'm no stranger to blood and gore, even before becoming fae. When my brother broke his leg, I was with him. I'd held him down and stared at the bone sticking out of his skin while waiting for the healer. I can do the same for these men.

So, I start.

I fetch water, clean clothes, clean wrappings, discard bloody water, bloody clothes, and do whatever else I can. Eyes follow me everywhere I go and many ask me who I am, but I only reply that I'm here to help. I'm not sure what to say otherwise and they thankfully don't press me for further information. Too much to get to.

The others eventually join the fray and it's a comfort to see them even in passing. The night passes slowly and I only pause when I see Feyre atop a bucket outside the healer's tents. I'm not quick enough to stop her from toppling face-first into the mud, but I gather what strength I have to heave her into my arms. Even my shadows seem to help as I hold her close.

"There." My shadows whisper and lengthen in the direction of a particular tent. I have no choice but to listen and stumble in that direction. My arms are screaming with the ache of carrying so many buckets and now dead weight, but my wings keep me balanced as I come to the tent and step inside. I don't bother with Rhys who appears inside the moment that I set her down on the bed.

"Sleeping," I comment and don't dare let myself sit down. He releases a breath with eyes steady on her, then they flit to me.

"Something we could all use." He bids and I appreciate the slight effort at humor. We step outside the tent even though Rhys remains firmly at the door. "People are talking about you already. The female Illyrian warrior sweeping through the camp armed to the teeth and trailing shadows, but claiming to be a helper." His eyes are smooth and his mask is a good one, but no one can see this and not be affected. Most especially not Rhysand.

"I'm glad to do the work," I murmur and pinch my palm to keep myself awake. He nods slowly with eyes locked on mine.

"You run yourself ragged." He tells me and I shrug.

"I need it. The distraction. The pain." Or else I'll be left with too much to think about.

"I won't be hypocritical and tell you to stop, but I will tell you to slow down. I'll personally come for you if you come close to running yourself into the ground." There is power and a warning in his words, but the care behind the sentiment has my lips lifting tiredly.

"I'll repeat the same to you, Rhysand." A smile cuts across his face before vanishing as we hear far-off screaming.

"They're starting to call you the Shadow of Velaris, you know. Risen from the depths to protect her people and do the bidding of her High Lord." I snort at that and shake my head while amusement dances over his face.

"Your bidding, not quite. But there isn't much that I wouldn't do for the city." And the people in charge of it or living in it. As my eyes look over the tents and I still hear screams that have slowed, but not stopped, I know that there's more to do.

"You should rest too. Your tent is just there." His chin flicks towards Azriel's and I try not to read anything into that.

"I'll rest when the camp is quiet."

"Then you won't sleep for many days, Kaira." He warns and I look to him, undaunted.

"Then I won't sleep for many days, Rhys," I respond and a whisper of a smile crosses over his face before he leans forward and lets his lips graze my cheek before I can move.

"That makes two of us, then. Let's get back to it, little sister. Or do you prefer the Shadow of Velaris now?" He teases as we wobble towards the healing tents.

"Either, Rhysand. Whichever gives these people more solace. Whichever gives them any sort of peace or hope." I return and his expression sobers as he tosses an arm over my shoulders. I'm too tired to flinch or to pull away. Actually, it's almost nice.

* * *

Rhysand leaves three hours in with my encouragement while I remain. I've lost nearly all my strength, but I can still carry cloth back and forth through the labyrinth of tents. Azriel doesn't come to find me and I nearly laugh at the fact that neither of us has stopped long enough to find the other. Only when dawn comes and even the healers usher me away, saying that the danger has passed for everyone else, do I look for him.

"The hunt is on." I send him half-heartedly and receive a flicker in response, but nothing more. At least my work was mindless. I'm sure Azriel has been looking over papers, plans, and intelligence all night. I go to the tent I first found him in and thankfully find him there along with Cassian. The soldier is splayed in a chair with his mouth wide open as soft snores drift from his still bloody and muddy body. Az is sitting behind the paper-strewn desk and he's also still covered in gore. Not that I can say any different. "And so the Shadow catches her prey," I remark softly and am glad to see Az's shoulders lax slightly at the sight of me.

"On another day, I'd like to provide a better chase." He says in the same quiet tone as I round the table to be at his side.

"Given what's happened, I won't fault you this time." I return and he sighs. "You haven't rested." It isn't a question.

"Neither have you." He says and turns towards me as I put a hand on his table, then lean heavily into it. With each blink, my eyes stay closed longer. "Take my bed. Even only for a few minutes." He offers gently and lets me take his hands to lean on rather than run the risk of me collapsing on all his papers.

"What about you?" I ask and blearily open my eyes to see his golden hazel eyes that are just as tired as mine.

"Sleep won't have me for a while longer, Kaira, but you need rest." These words are a bit louder, firmer, but instead of having the effect he wants, he wakes Cassian. The male groans and rubs dirty hands over his crusted eyes while I leave Azriel to move to his side.

"Take things slowly. I know you were injured." His eyes lift to mine while his brows furrow.

"Who are you to give me orders, little sister?" He asks and moves to get up before I stand directly in front of him with my shadows flaring and wings popping out as far as they can.

"Go. Slow." I hiss and he blinks before plopping back in his chair. Azriel disguises a laugh with a soft cough. I pull back when Cassian's eyes are clear and watch him carefully as he stands.

"How long—"

"An hour. Maybe two."

"Ugh." Cassian groans and runs his hands over his face, then through his hair. "Time to make the list. Send it to the families." He murmurs to his face and I see the dread on his face before he hides it.

"Do you want company?" I offer and he softens when those tired, heavy eyes look at me.

"I don't need to add your name to that list, little sister. You already look dead on your feet." He tells me while I reach out to grasp onto the arm of the chair he just vacated so I don't topple over. "Rest. Promise we won't go into battle without you." He gifts me a half-smile before ducking out of the tent. I no longer resist and reach out to Azriel who is instantly there to help me get to the bed.

"Wake me if anything should happen. Anything." I tell him and he nods.

"I will. Sleep, Kaira." He pleads and I'm asleep with his hands on mine before I've even touched the bed.

Other people's nightmares linger in my head as I sleep; drowning, being left alone to die, seeing loved ones tortured, being locked in a cage, horror after horror dances through my head before I jerk awake and sit straight up. "Azriel." His name leaves my lips instantly and my head snaps to the side as he comes in. His eyes scan me for injury before he releases a breath.

"It's only been a few hours. The others are about to leave." He offers me his hand when I reach out and helps me onto my feet. By the Mother, when did I last eat? Drink? I'm distracted from my questions by Rhys, Cassian, Mor, and Feyre ducking in. Azriel relinquishes his hand when Mor's eyes pan down us and I try not to be hurt by that.

"What's going on?" I ask and look to Rhys for the answer. He sighs and leans towards Feyre whose arm is looped in his.

"We're headed back to Velaris to prepare for the meeting. Azriel and Cassian will stay here to guide the Illyrians to the southern border of the Night Court."

"Then I'll go to the Steppes to tell the grieving families," Cassian adds quietly and the weight on his shoulders is clear to see.

"What will you do?" Rhys asks and I'm glad to see a little spark has returned to his eyes, no doubt courtesy of his mate. My hands wring themselves as I think through my choices with a glance around the group.

"I'm going to stay, then I'm going with Cassian to the Steppes," I state and the group freezes, but I swear a smile flashes across Rhys' face.

"Good. From this point on, you're the Advisor to the High Lady and High Lord of the Night Court. You're also to be Cassian's partner in handling the Illyrians in the Steppes and I expect a full report when you both come back. Deal?" For a moment, my mouth opens and closes like a fish.

"Rhys, now really isn't the time to push our allies. Even with a good idea." Cassian says and shoots me a crooked grin, but Rhysand nods.

"It won't be announced until all this is over, but the title is hers." His eyes don't waver from mine as I struggle to take things in.

"But...but I barely know anything about the Illyrians. I'm not technically one of them and I've never even been to their camp. What right do I have to stand above them?" I ask and Rhys shrugs.

"Knowledge can be gained and I just gave you the right. Learn, Kaira." He instructs and everyone else is either stunned silent or simply has nothing to say. I take a breath, then nod once.

"Deal," I respond breathlessly and feel a strange sort of scribbling across my throat. A real smile appears on his face as he nods back, then vanishes with Mor and Feyre. It's silent for at least a minute before Cassian releases a long breath.

"Well then." He starts and I turn to both of them while he hands me a mirror. My eyes go wide at the ink scrawled across my neck and chest. In the hollow of my throat lies a diamond with elongated points, a star, and around it tapering to razor-thin edges at the sides of my collarbone are swirls of ink like my shadows. Cassian looks flabbergasted, but Azriel doesn't move a single muscle as they look at me. "I hope you're ready to fly hard and fast."