DISCONTINUED A Court of Blood and Night Rewritten

20

Manon Blackbeak had met her match, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.

From the moment she'd  entered the castle grounds days before, she'd felt the dark-haired  female's otherworldly presence, and something inside her, long dormant,  had recoiled.

That interested her.  Witches didn't have a natural, universal fear. But when she talked with  her Thirteen that night, every single one of them admitted that they  felt it, too. Even Asterin had sounded subdued when she spoke of it.

So it made the witch wonder. What in the world was this creature, and why was it so terrifying to her and the others?

Meeting Amren's silver gaze that first time had been worse than an arrow through her shoulder. Not right. Nothing about the female settled with Manon.

And, if their faces were indication of anything, Amren's presence unsettled everyone here.

But... Predator. Amren  had said witches once had a predator, natural as they came. Something  had been at the top of the food chain, higher than the heart-eating  witches Manon had grown up knowing.

Was Amren such a  creature? If she was, she hadn't gone hunting for a long, long time.  Long enough that, while Manon certainly couldn't kill her, she could  definitely hold her off.

She supposed it was a good thing that she and Amren were on the same side.

Amren didn't have iron  nails, or sharp teeth, or any sort of weapon. Then again, she didn't  need any. It was unsettling, the way she fought. Despite Manon's  attempts to trick her-- feinting, simulating fatigue, and even using subtle bits of magic to confuse  her-- Amren saw through it all.

The next punch Amren  threw was fast and brutal. Despite the fact that Manon dodged it, she  could hear the wind her first stirring as it flew past her ear. That  punch, had it hit her, would've knocked out her teeth.

Amren's outstretched arm  gave Manon the perfect excuse to sink those iron teeth into the skin,  tasting her blood again as Amren let out an enraged and pained sound.

The blood on her tongue  tasted like the cold, snowy mountains farther west, some of which she'd  been taught to avoid. Was it possible that Amren came from those very  mountains? What life was there besides a few starving wolves?

Amren recoiled, ripping  her arm away from Manon, face twisted in anger. But before the fight  could go any further, someone grabbed Manon and pulled her back, hands  slipping slightly because of the blood on her skin.

The winged male surrounded by shadow was doing  the same to Amren, looking for all the world like a male who'd rather  jump off a cliff into a pile of angry, venomous snakes.

Manon glared heatedly at  the Fae holding her back-- Gavriel-- but did not fight him. In the  months she'd traveled with the warrior, she'd gained some respect toward  him, and she wasn't going to bite his head off for stopping them from  killing each other.

Rowan simply nodded at  Manon and Amren, those pine green eyes a little wider than normal, his  tan skin pale and greenish. She gave him a fierce grin just to see how  he'd react, but he simply crossed his arms and stared back.

She'd noticed it lately,  the sense of purpose he'd seemed to gain back. Without that purpose,  Rowan was lost, a wanderer. But now he'd seemed, just barely, to come  back into that warrior that had jumped in front of his Queen to save her  from a lethal blow, courtesy of Asterin.

And it was at that moment that Manon realized Rowan was up to something.

The rest of the  fighting, oddly enough, passed by in a blur of motion, though Manon caught the High Lord holding the Lady that claimed to be his enemy quite close, though neither seemed to notice or mind. She wondered at that, but wasn't interested in the politics of it. Besides, she was too caught up in  wondering what, exactly, was Rowan planning to actually care.

When the group dispersed, the frigid air between the High Lord and his enemy's Lady returned anew, Manon caught up with Rowan. "What are you planning?" She demanded, causing him to halt.

The male looked tired,  but determined. "I'm getting my wife back. I've been planning with  Aedion for a while." He glanced at her, and she kept her expression  neutral. She hadn't expected him to give her information so easily.

"I want you to help me,"  Rowan continued, beginning to walk again, and Manon realized why he'd  given her that information. He'd planned to. "You knew things about  Maeve's position that nobody else knew. Perhaps you could find her  location, along with the others that I send."

Manon said quietly, "The  Thirteen should be enough to track down your Queen, Rowan. Don't expect  us to play nice with whomever else you send." There was a bite in her  voice, and Rowan cringed at the corner of her eye.

But he didn't give in to  her wishes, either. "Manon, while I respect the Thirteen's ability, I'd  rather send as many as I can to track her. Not too many-- just two or  three extra."

"Who?" She demanded,  blood-covered hands curling into fists. Insult-- an insult to send more.  Her Thirteen was more capable than any of the others here!

"First," Rowan said, not  oblivious to her anger but willing to ignore it, "I want to send that  Azriel. He could melt into shadows like it was nothing, and he can..."  He hesitated, searching for the right words. "He can... travel the way Fenrys can. That could be extremely helpful."

"He doesn't know the world," Manon protested.

"So we teach him," Rowan  snapped back. "We teach those who we send. Maps, books, rules--  whatever we need to get them caught up." He lowered his voice. "You  can't deny that he and his power would be useful, Manon. Particularly the traveling."

Moments away. She was moments away from ripping his throat out--

"Winnowing," a quiet voice said from behind. "We call that travel 'winnowing.'"

Manon turned, still  glaring, to see Azriel himself staring at them, arms folded over his  chest. She kept her glare on him, but Azriel stared back, unaffected.  "I've been on the wrong side of Amren's anger too many times to be  frightened by you." Not an insult-- just fact.

So Manon turned her glare on Rowan again. "Is that all?" She asked icily, and his pine-green eyes narrowed.

"I want to send Amren and Galan as well. Amren for obvious reasons, and Galan is her family and a good warrior."

"If you want family and a  good warrior, why not send Aedion, or yourself?" Manon asked, cocking  her head, and purred, "Unless these months have made you a coward?"

He didn't even bristle.  "No. Aedion, Ansel, Lysandra, and the rest will be going the opposite  direction with me. Someone will be bound to find her."

"Who?" It wasn't Manon who spoke.

They'd forgotten that  Azriel didn't know, already. "The imprisoned female," Rowan answered.  "She's been missing for months. If we don't find her soon, things could  go downhill."

The answer satisfied the male enough for him to depart with a quick nod.

"You take Azriel," Manon  finally said. "I have no use for him. Besides, I have my Shadows,  remember?" There was a bite to her voice. Edda and Briar would do just  fine without him.

Rowan met her gaze and  gave her a long, hard stare. After a few heartbeats, he nodded. "Okay,  I'll take Azriel, then. We leave in a few days, so gather your Thirteen  and those traveling with you and make sure they're prepared."

Manon nodded curtly and departed.

The hunt begins...

Think anyone else noticed Feyre and Rhys, or just Manon?