A Court of Lost Stars-Chapter 13: The Wrong Way to Hell

Ironically, it rained through the night and into the morning. While it still drizzled, Rhys and Feyre winnowed to the war camp. The same Illyrian camp Nova had followed Cas and Az to Devlon's chagrin.

While their attention had been prioritizing Nova and the prophecy, Devlon had taken it upon himself to revert to the old ways of training. Excluding the women and assigning them tasks that didn't include wielding a blade. Cassian had already sent the order multiple times, but it seemed they'd need to interfere again.

Cas grumbled as he set his soaked boots by the fire as the five of them nestled in one of the cabins. "He's well on his way to a broken nose if I catch it again."

Unaware of why her Uncle Cas was upset, Nova tip-toed toward him and pulled an acorn from her pocket. She offered it to him with a smile.

Chuckling, he sighed as he took the extended offering. "How is it I can never stay angry when you're around?"

Nova grinned and settled in front of the fire beside his boots as Azriel watched fondly before turning his attention to Feyre. "What did Elain say about her nightmare?"

With a soft sigh, Feyre nodded. "It wasn't very prophetic. Only that she was staring from the House of Wind, watching the city go up in flames. She said she could hear the screams, but Lucien must have woken her too quickly. She remembers nothing else."

Cas asked, "Is it possible she and Nova shared the same dream?"

"Nothing's impossible," Rhys frowned, watching his daughter, "But if it's true, I don't know how."

Nova stretched out on the carpet like a cat bathing in the sun. The last time she'd been in the camp, she'd run the obstacle course meant for the Illyrian Warriors. As it turned out, she'd beaten the fastest record.

Cassian's record.

While another warrior would have been wounded, Cassian beamed with pride whenever he could bring it up. "She's going to be a formidable force."

"Isn't she already?" Rhys smirked.

Cas barked a laugh, "She'll leave Devlon quaking in his boots."

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Not long later, they served themselves soup that simmered over the fire. As Nova took heaping bites, Feyre ladled a bit into the bowl and brought it to Rhys before he could get up to serve himself. A flush colored his cheeks as he smiled crookedly.

He murmured, "Thank you."

As dusk turned to night, Nova rolled over and opened her eyes. The fire had been reduced to embers as she slept. Peering around the room, she stared at her family, who had fallen asleep. Azriel was on one couch, Cassian on the floor, and Rhys and Feyre were on a shared couch. They all slept soundly as a slow, mischievous grin graced her face.

Standing carefully to her feet, she looked out the window and at the dense forest ahead. The forest would lead her to the Illyrian Camp- the place with the obstacle course. Oh, she wanted to play on that course.

Quiet as a mouse, Nova slunk to the door and carefully opened it. The hinge creaked, and Nova froze. Glancing over her shoulder, she stared at their still sleeping forms- eyes closed, breathing deeply. She grinned and stepped out into the night, shutting the door as silently as possible. Sneaking across the grass field that separated herself from the forest, she crept to the lip. A few feet in the cover of trees, she took off at a wild sprint, imagining herself scaling that pole and getting that key.

It took her no time to enter the camp, which had already fallen asleep, aside from a couple of Illyrians who kept watch. Not very well, though, as Nova snuck past them with ease and continued her trek to the obstacle course.

Finally, it stood before her in all its glory.

Bran untucked the covers of his perfectly made cot, ignoring the chortles of three guys a few beds down.

"Kiss-ass," one muttered.

"Worse than that," another smirked, "Even on his knees, sucking off doesn't do anything for him."

"Hey, Bran!" They called to him.

However, Bran didn't turn in their direction. Something through his window caught his attention. He watched an agile body climb the rope and swing to the netting ahead from the barracks. Frowning, he picked up his jacket and shrugged it on before walking with purpose to the door.

"Where does he think he's going?" Scoffed a soldier as he exited the building.

Another rolled their eyes, "Who cares."

The night was chilly, the first snowflakes threatening to fall as he started jogging to the obstacle course. He slowed as he approached and looked up at where the girl perched on the pole. Bran knew her.

"Nova." He called to her quietly. "Come down, please."

Nova looked down at the voice and tilted her head to the side. She grinned and quickly crawled down the pole, jumping off when she was a few meters from the ground. She dashed toward him before skidding to a quick stop, eyes wide as she realized the person before her was not her Uncle Azriel.

He gently said, "Hello, Nova. I don't think you're meant to be out here."

Nova frowned, staring at him.

"We've met before," he offered and spread his wings out just a little, "You...bit my wing?" Bran managed a small smile. "The key isn't up there anymore."

Nova looked up at the pole and sighed softly, disappointed.

Careful not to spook her, Bran offered his hand. "I can take you back to the cabin if you'd like. You wouldn't want Devlon to catch you out here like this. It's against the rules."

Nova skeptically looked down at his hand and then up at his dark hair and patient hazel eyes. She had a strange sense of trust toward him, leading her to take his outstretched hand.

Smiling softly, Bran lightly squeezed her hand and guided her back toward the forest. He was quiet as they walked, glancing at Nova in his peripheral occasionally. Each time he did, she was staring at something in wonder. It didn't seem to matter what it was—the moon, a leaf.

They were nearly a hundred yards from the camp when Nova sucked in a gasp and grinned with delight. Letting go of Bran's hand, she took off toward a little pond that hadn't yet succumbed to the evening frost. Frowning, he quickly jogged after her.

"Nova, it isn't safe for you to be out here. It's cold and..." He sighed softly, watching her admire the fish swirling lethargically through the water. She skimmed her fingers over the surface and shuddered. Slipping out of his leather jacket, he inched toward her and gently draped it over her shoulders.

Nova grinned up at him, her violet eyes lit with joy. "Is beautiful." She whispered to him as she touched the water's surface with a single fingertip, creating a ring of ripples.

Watching her, he smiled softly.

They both looked up at the snap of a twig, and Bran's heart jumped into his throat at the sight of Devlon standing at the edge of the clearing.

"I was told our own disobeyed orders and left the barracks," he narrowed his eyes as Nova's brows set into a scowl. "It seemed they were telling the truth."

Bran slowly stood to his feet, blocking Devlon's view of Nova.

"I apologize for breaking curfew, but-"

"But what?" Devlon asked, stepping closer.

A low growl rumbled at the back of Nova's throat as she watched Devlon with careful, vigilant eyes.

Devlon continued, "There are no excuses. You know the penalty of disobeying orders. You've been here sixteen months?" He asked.

His throat bobbed, but he kept his expression placid. "Eighteen, sir."

"Eighteen lashes it is."

With a swift, harsh step toward Bran, Nova took action. She dove in front of Bran, standing between him and Devlon. A snarl curled her lip as she glared up at Devlon.

"Out of the way, girl." Devlon grabbed Nova by the arm and squeezed hard enough that she let out a cry of pain. He shoved her to the side and grabbed Bran by the back of his neck. Then he snarled, "Make it twenty. You can thank your little friend."

Bran had no choice but to be dragged by Devlon's mighty hand through the forest. Gritting his teeth, he didn't make a sound.

Nova rubbed her arm, but the tears in her eyes were not for herself but for the boy being taken away. Quick as a flash, she took off through the frost-bitten greenery. She cleared fallen logs and arrived at the cabin in record time.

Slamming into the door, everyone inside works with a start. All hands went to their sheathed weapons. Cassian and Azriel were alert and on their feet, as Nova looked at them pleadingly. She grabbed Cassian's hand, which was standing closest to the door, and pulled it. "Help! HELP!" She cried out, and without saying another word, she turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her toward the forest.

Toward the camp.

Not a single word was exchanged as they all raced after her. Feyre and Rhysand didn't even share a thought as they ran, brows set. Ready for war. Nova stopped at the edge of the camp, and the distinct echo of a whip tearing soft flesh sliced through the air.

Jogging to the center of the camp, soldiers in the barracks stared silently out their windows at the sight. Before, Devlon was a soldier tied with his hands behind his back to a short pole in the center.

When had that been established?

The young man, no older than seventeen or eighteen, trembled with a clenched jaw as bloody welts crisscrossed his chest and stomach. Feyre watched blood drip from the tips of his wings and to the ground.

Devlon glanced over his shoulder with a sneering smirk. "Pay no mind to the fools who break the rules."

Slowly lifting his head, Bran stared across the camp's center with blurred vision. He could see Nova standing with...the High Lord and Lady. His muscles quivered as the overwhelming urge to vomit tried to overtake him. He closed his eyes to make the world stop turning. The lashes across his wings had already made him pass out once, only to be woken with a bucket of water before the next lash—ten against his back, ten against his front.

Before Nova could surge forward, Rhys wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her back as Cassian and Azriel marched forward.

"Explain," Cassian demanded in a low voice.

Devlon rolled his eyes. "I command these barracks."

"And I command you."

"I found him out in the forest, past curfew," he glanced over their shoulders at Rhysand, "With your daughter."

Feyre stared at the man feeding the ground with his blood with a frown before looking down at Nova, who absently rubbed her shoulder through a jacket that wasn't hers. A sick dread filled her as she carefully moved the heavy leather off her shoulder to reveal her arm. Blue and purple bruises in the shape of fingers marked her skin.

"Rhys..." Feyre breathed.

Immediately following his mate's gaze, hot-white fury warped his vision. He turned to stare at Bran, tilting his head with the promise of violence. He started forward, each step a nail in the soldier's coffin.

Lifting his head, Bran met the furious scowls of Azriel and Cassian. His heart hammered wildly in his chest as his gaze shifted to the right, watching his High Lord approach him with lethal stealth. The fear he'd dared not show Devlon showed now.

Nova gasped. One moment, she stood with Feyre; the next, she was in front of Rhys.

"No!" She screamed at him with wide, frightful eyes.

Rhys stopped dead in his tracks, staring down at her blankly. Had she just...winnowed? "Nova..."

"NO!!!" She raised her voice louder and shoved him. Though he didn't move an inch backward, he didn't take another step forward.

Everyone stared at Nova with confused eyes until she pointed at Devlon with a scowl. She snarled through her bared teeth, "Him!"

Devlon rolled his eyes. "She was in the way, trying to interfere with punishment. I barely touched her."

Deadly silence fell on the camp.

Rhys slowly slid his gaze to his Illyrian Brothers. "Take Devlon from the camp." He ordered his voice a calm, venomous purr. "Be creative."

The sneer was wiped from Devlon's face as cruel hands snatched his arms and winnowed away.

Nova inched toward Bran with a frown, tears in her eyes as she watched the welts become angrier with each passing second.

"Don't touch him, Nova," Feyre said as she approached, trying to shake off the shock of it all, "What were you doing with my daughter in the woods?"

Rhys said, "I wouldn't delay in answering that question."

Bran lifted his head, trying to form the coherent thoughts required to talk. "I saw her on the obstacle course from my window," he murmured, voice hoarse, "I was walking her back to the cabin The General usually resides in when he's here. She found a pond and didn't want to leave it." Though fear and pain trembled his body, he kept his voice restrained, refusing to let it overcome him. "I didn't touch her," he slowly lifted his head and met his High Lord and Lady's eyes, "I swear to you. I...just wanted to help."

Staring at him, Feyre and Rhys searched his memories. Letting out a soft sigh as Feyre nodded. What he said was true, and the relief was enough to send them into a spiral.

"Thank you," Rhysand said, "For protecting our daughter." His gaze slowly slid to Nova. He wanted to be proud of her for many things, and he was. Winnowing for the first time...standing for the innocent, but she shouldn't have left the cabin in the first place. "Look at him, Nova," Rhys said, his voice harsher than he ever wanted it to be, "He is hurt. Devlon is at fault, too, but you should not have been wandering the camp."

Nova shrank back a little as her brow puckered and tears stung her eyes. She looked at Bran, who could barely keep his head up.

Lifting his head to look at her, Bran didn't get a chance to respond as Rhysand began carefully untying him. Feyre stood on the other side and helped release Bran from the pole. He hissed, gritting his teeth through the pain from accidental fingers brushing against his wounded wings.

With some patience, they managed to ease him into one of the Healers Tents. Nova trailed timidly behind, shame flushing her cheeks as she followed close behind. Through teary eyes, she watched a Healer walk swiftly toward them and help Bran sit on one of the cots.

"I won't have you lie down yet," she smiled calmly, "I'm going to give you something to drink to aid the pain."

Bran looked up as Nova stepped up to him. "I sorry..." she said, tears brimming her eyes.

The lashes he'd endured were nothing compared to the sight of Nova in tears over him. He offered a small smile and said in a voice as warm as wool, "It will always be my honor to protect you."

Rhys and Feyre didn't say another word to her over the incident. As far as they were concerned, the lesson had been learned, and they didn't need to.

It seemed that Nova punished herself as she'd not allowed herself to put anything into her pockets on the walk back. However, a part of her mind knew the lack of acorns in her collection was nothing compared to the damage to Bran's body.

Azriel and Cassian arrived at the cabin shortly after morning. Their hair was damp, indicating they'd washed up after dealing Devlon's punishment.

"What's his name?" Rhys asked. The breakfast before him was left untouched as dawn approached.

Cassian glanced up. "Bran," he nodded, "Started over a year ago in our absence." Cas chuckled, though it didn't hold much humor. "He's the one Nova bit on the wing that day on the course before she took the key. He's a good kid, a better soldier. Shows a lot of promise. Evidently, Devlon's had it out for him since he arrived."

Feyre snarled softly at the sound of the war lord's name. "Why? If he's a good soldier, what could he have possibly done to piss him off so much?"

Casting a look in Az's direction, he nodded. "Bran reminds me of someone," he smirked sadly, "But he knows he can't bully Azriel, so he takes it out on a fledgling that he can." He shook his head.

Rhys said, "I want you both to train him personally." He looked toward Nova, who slept curled in a ball on the couch and then returned to their confused gazes. "He stood between Nova and Devlon."

They nodded with understanding.

"Oh," Azriel added as he swallowed, "Devlon has...decidedly stepped down from his position. We'll need a replacement."

Rhys smirked, "Music to my ears."