A Court of Iron and Shadows

Introductions and Interrogations

Aelin's POV

The male with violet eyes and jet black hair who introduces himself as Rhys, leads us through the corridors, obviously taking twists and turns to confuse my sense of direction. I have to stifle my laugh at his attempt. Me, fooled. Please. Little did they know that I was an assassin trained to withstand torture--which I had, trained to memorize every exit and escape route, trained to asses every threat. 

Azriel walks by my side, and I have to force myself to keep walking. I walk with my hips swishing, arrogance leaking from every pore in my body. They don't bother with idle chit chat, and neither do I. Despite the aching in my body, I moved with ease and gracefulness, as though I hadn't been tortured and starved for months. 

Months, I had deducted. I had been there for months. Although that was all I could determine. From the look of things, it was late winter, early spring. When I had been taken off of the shore in Ellwye, it had been mid-summer. 

Rhys brings us to a set of oak doors, stopping. He turns to Azriel and I saying, "Ready?" I give him a curt nod, before he opens the grand doors, revealing a dining room. The table was large enough to sit 10, although only 4 seats were filled. 

The blond from before is wearing a red, gossamer gown that flowed like a river. Feyre, wore a casual dress that was dark as night, and another female sat with narrowed silver eyes, her eyebrows bunched together. She looked more casual, wearing a cropped black shirt that barely revealed a sliver of her stomach, and flowing pants that met again at her ankles, coming together, also in a shade of black. 

The last person at the table is a fae male with wings like Azriel's and red, glittering stone's, also similar to Azriel's, although they were red instead of blue. They both wore 7, scattered throughout their clothing. Interesting. 

I narrow my eyes at all of them, watching as Rhys goes to sit beside, presumably, his mate, Feyre. Azriel doesn't move, waiting for me to situate myself. I walk to the second to last seat from the corner, with Azriel moving to sit on my left. 

Across from me sits the blond, with Feyre on her right and Rhys on Feyre's other side. The silver eyed fae sat to the blonde's left, and the other winged one sat across from Rhys. I lean back in my chair, waiting for the introductions and interrogations to begin. 

The blond one chirps up saying, "Hi! I'm Mor, Rhys' third in command, nice to meet you." I raise my brows slightly at her chipper demeanor, but nod at her, my lips a straight line. 

"I'm High Lady of the Night Court, and Rhys is the High Lord." Feyre says, "Azriel is Rhys' spymaster, this is Cassian," she gestures to the winged one next to Azriel who wore red stones, and a cocky smirk, "commander of our armies, and Amren, Rhys's second." she says, gesturing her hands to the silver eyes one who glared at me. 

I give her a wicked grin, and for a moment she does nothing. Then, after a minute, the corners of her lips turn upwards slightly, parting her blood red mouth into a wicked grin of her own. "Oh dear god." I hear Cassian mutter. 

I look back to Feyre and Rhys, the latter of which was eyeing me and Amren warily. "Start off by telling us who you are, and what happened to you." Feyre says. My stare shifts from Rhys back to Feyre, and I just look at her for a moment. 

Suddenly I feel claws of obsidian attempt to enter my mind, and I push my chair back, knocking it over and standing up abruptly. I send a wall of fire to push them out, and scan their faces for the intruder. 

Mor and Cassian look confused, and Amren is uncaring. I look to Azriel, who's face remains a mask of calm. Finally, my eyes slide over to Rhys and Feyre who both look subtly shocked. "NO!" I scream, "Stop it Maeve!" I back into the corner, all of my swagger and arrogance gone.