DISCONTINUED A Court of Blood and Night Rewritten

7

Since I failed to update within a reasonable time frame, I'm posting two chapters!

"I heard you've been waiting around for me," Erawan said, golden eyes depthless, draining. "Why?"

This was it. This was what he'd been preparing himself for during these last few days. The stupidest decision of his immortal life. He blocked out the insticts in his head that screamed at him to not do it, telling him not to say it--

"I want to make a deal," he told Erawan quietly. It was an effort not to choke on those words-- but this was only the offer.

"And what makes you think I'd go for a deal?" He cocked his head, those eyes glittering with something like amusement. It reminded Rowan of Maeve. The Demon King and the Queen of Wendlyn-- a perfect, disturbing match for each other.

Rowan couldn't say it. Couldn't do that to this world, couldn't... He knew Aelin wouldn't forgive him, not ever. He knew, even if he somehow won, Aelin would never let him off the hook for putting her kingdom on the balance. But... He could face that. Face that hatred. Because she'd be alive and safe and... "Because if I lose, you win everything. Terrasen, Adarlan, Erilea, the Wastes. Everything."

"And how, exactly, would you lose?" Erawan's eyes were glittering with malice and greed. Hunger.

And here was the worst part of the stupidest decision Rowan had ever made. "We fight one-on-one, however we wish. To the death." He paused. "Or, until your latest body is not habitable."

"And what would happen if you somehow won?" Arrogance-- plain and simple-- narrowed his eyes. He knew Rowan wouldn't win. Not as exhausted and desperate and sick as he was.

Rowan kept his expression neutral. "You give Terrasen twenty of your soldiers to keep under our command. And you free Aelin from Maeve and Cairn."

"Ten soldiers," Erawan bargained. "And Aelin is freed."

Rowan considered it silently. Better ten soldiers than none at all. "Alright. It's a deal." Such foolish, condemning words.

"I never said I was willing to make a deal," Erawan hedged, and Rowan's jaw tightened, staring him down.

"Then why bargain?" He gritted out.

Erawan actually chuckled. "Oh, Prince. I think I might almost miss you. It's a deal."

They didn't bother to follow the normal ritual of a deal. There wasn't a need to. Instead, Erawan smiled a smile that sent chills through Rowan's spine. Made him wish he'd just spent his time looking for Aelin instead of waiting for the enemy. But it was too late to back out, now. Much, much too late. Rowan shifted his weight into a defensive stance. It would be better to let Erawan strike first, so Rowan could understand his tells, learn how hard he could hit.

I'm sorry, Aelin. Please forgive me for this. Rowan wasn't sure why he was thinking such things when he had every intention of winning this fight. Maybe it was experience whispering in his mind that there was a one-in-a-billion chance that he would come out of this alive. Maybe it was something else. Either way, Rowan hoped that if his death did come, she'd know he had tried to save her and forgive him for this foolish, foolish deal.

He met Erawan's eyes and felt a chill run down his spine. Those golden eyes were the color of death and suffering, and Rowan was not about to let those eyes be the last thing he ever saw.

Despite the fact that Rowan had spent centuries fighting alongside Lorcan and the others, nothing could have prepared him to fight Erawan. Not truly. He was taught how to fight against strong magic, and fight any mental intrusions, but he'd never had to fight the King of the Valg or anything strong enough to compare.

The first of the darkness lashed out like a whip, but on impact felt like a blunt object, slamming into his abdomen hard enough that he staggered back, off-balance. He barely had time to consider retaliation before Erawan's magic struck again, this time a blow to the head that sent his ears ringing and vision blurring like a whirlpool.

As the Valg King paused to gather another wave of that darkness, Rowan retaliated with a stream of ice arrows, their sharp tips gleaming in the dim light as they flew on a strong wind he created. One caught the King's arm, and he let out an inhuman snarl as he ripped it out and shattered the ice in his grip. Those eyes flicked up to meet Rowan's again, and there was pure malice in those golden orbs as a larger, heavier wave of darkness came.

Most fights were like an odd dance with pain and suffering and possibly death. But the longer they fought-- never with fists, but with magic-- Rowan realized this wasn't like those other fights. This was just brutality and blood and exhaustion.

He didn't realize he'd been knocked to the ground until he was struggling to sit up, ears screaming and vision blanking. He was bleeding, he realized, looking at his clothes, soaked with red. Then the pain came, like white-hot fire lancing through his veins, and his vision blurred further.

Magic. Magic wasn't going to save him, not it's own. But a blade alongside it... That might do something. Might be more effective than this pointless effort.

Rowan blinked away the blur in his vision, fought against the pain and stood up. He reached for his sword, which he'd kept strapped to his body, and unsheathed the blade.

Erawan tilted his head in a predatorial motion, eyes flicking from him, to the weapon, and back. That arrogance flickered in his eyes again. Do you really think you can beat me with such a primitive weapon? He seemed to be saying.

It was worth a try.

Rowan took a deep breath. I will win this, he promised himself, Aelin, Terrasen, and everything in between. Then he struck.