Eternal: Azriel

Chapter Fourteen

The weeks passed and we finally got a reply from the Queens.

I was dressed in a forest green gown with silver accents. My hair, put up into a neat braided bun, the silver ribbon hanging from it.

I stood next to Nesta near the window, Elain taking the space next to her.

Cassian and Azriel stood near the door like bodyguards. Azriel taking quick glances at me once in a while.

He's on edge and I can feel it.

Feyre, Rhys and Mor introduced themselves to the Queens. I kept silent, cautious if anything were to happen. Mor looked as beautiful as ever.

"Morrigan—the Morrigan from the War."

The Queens all paused as if in surprise. And a bit of awe and fear.

Mor bows again. "Please—sit." She gestured to the chairs we'd laid out a comfortable distance from each other, all far enough apart that the guards could flank their queens as they saw fit.

Almost as one, the queens sat. Their guards, however, remained at their posts around the room.

The golden-haired queen smoothed her voluminous skirts and says, "I assume those are our hosts." A cutting look at us.
Nesta stayed straight-backed, only Elain and I bowed, most likely from the fear.

"My sisters," Feyre clarifies.

"An emissary wears a golden crown. Is that a tradition in Prythian?"

"No," Rhysand says smoothly, "but she certainly looks good enough in one that I can't resist."

"A human turned into a High Fae ... and who is now standing beside a High Lord at the place of honor. Interesting."

The eldest declares to Rhys, "You have an hour of our time. Make it count."

"War is coming. We called you here to warn you—and to beg a boon," Feyre says first.

"We know war is coming," the oldest says, her voice like crackling leaves. "We have been preparing for it for many years."

It seemed the three others were positioned as observers while the eldest and the golden-haired one led the charge.

"The humans in this territory seem unaware of the larger threat. We've seen no signs of preparation." Feyre speaks calmly.

"This territory," the golden one explains coolly, "is a slip of land compared to the vastness of the Continent. It is not in our interests to defend it. It would be a waste of resources."

Rhys drawls, "Surely the loss of even one innocent life would be abhorrent."

"Yes. To lose one life is always a horror. But war is war. If we must sacrifice this tiny territory to save the majority, then we shall do it."

Feyre rasps, "There are good people here."

The golden queen sweetly parries with, "Then let the High Fae of Prythian defend them."

Silence.

They don't want to save their own people.

I remain as emotionless as I can, watching the scene play out.

And it was Nesta who hissed from next to me, "We have servants here. With families. There are children in these lands. And you mean to leave us all in the hands of the Fae?"

The eldest one's face softens. "It is no easy choice, girl —"

"It is the choice of cowards," Nesta snaps.