Being an Illyrian female born with Shadowsinger abilities was rare. Even more rare was the fact that your wings had never been clipped.

During a scouting mission led by Azriel and Cassian you were essentially recruited to be a spy for the Night Court. Offered a home at The House of Wind, away from the harsh ways of your people. You were still in training, but growing stronger in your abilities everyday. Even at nineteen your skill set was impressive, even if Azriel would never admit it.

“You’re not following through on your attacks. You’re being careless.” Azriel’s bored tone carries across the training room. “Keep this up and you won’t leave this room for weeks.” His golden eyes track your movements, his face was hard and full of emotions you had yet to decipher.