A Court of Bastards [ACOTAR]

Chapter 39

The Hewn City was colder than she remembered. 

Or maybe that had something to do with the thin strip of silk pooling at the base of her spine. A haunting melody floated through the hallway to greet the Velarian company, beckoning them further into the city's carved bowels. Fiona set about shaking the chill from her limbs and assuming her Nightmare persona, molding herself in the image of wicked ease.

Xander winnowed in shortly after, any trace of anger replaced by a cold calm that sat in his shoulders and slid hands into pockets – but not before he looped an arm through Fiona's, and positioned himself beneath a jagged stone archway. A single glance was exchanged between the group, and then they were walking.

"We give nothing away." Xander spoke quietly. "We get in, do our little dance, get our answers, and then we leave." His murmur was almost drowned out by the cacophony of braying laughter echoing louder towards them with every step. Fiona fixed her gaze ahead as Xander's hand dipped to the small of her back, brushing the bare skin with his thumb. An involuntary shiver rippled down her spine.

"I apologise in advance." Xander offered her a sideways smile. Before she could ask what for, they had arrived at the throne room - and then, he transformed.

When Rhysand had taken her to the Hewn City for the first time - when they went to meet Eris only weeks ago - Fiona had been oddly amused by the mask the High Lord wore for his enemies and subjects. But where his father had been a dark, smirking king of the Underworld, Xander became its nightmare.

He did not bother with the sweeping smugness that Riordan and Bella adopted, or the cold indifference with which Gabriel chose to emulate his father. No, the crowd parted for the raw threat Xander posed and the lethal promise he embodied. Heads turned on a swivel and the music seemed to slow as he prowled across the floor, emanating waves of fury and power that weaved among the Court of Nightmares on a silent wind, singing of death; what lay in store for those who dared so much as a second glance at the Prince of Velaris.

It was an effort for Fiona to remain blasé at his side, to resist the urge to discover what shade his violet eyes had turned and see for herself what ire incarnate looked like as it prowled through the throne room. Clearly, the image was frightening enough to prompt the stench of fear now rolling over the gathered courtiers, like a tidal wave of terror.

The five slowed as they approached the throne, looking up to find an unlikely pair watching their arrival with keen interest. Fiona took in the tall figure of Nyx, his focus flitting between the group with a nervous energy that echoed in the sharp tug of surprise she felt from his brother. But more shocking was Keir, brazenly lounging on the carved throne as though he thought himself a king.

Ever the unreadable, Xander had already buried any sign of his surprise by the time they reached the dais. Fiona could hear the predatory smile in his words when he spoke, addressing himself to Keir. 

"My father would kill you for that."

Though the steward did not flinch, his answering smile seemed to waver as he took in this second son and the darkness breaking from him in waves. Slowly, he stood from the throne, adjusting the sleeves of his silver jacket as he slipped into a deep bow. "You'll forgive an old steward a moment of weakness, your Grace." He waved a hand subtly at his side, evidently a signal for the band who recommenced a staggered and slightly off-kilter tune. 

A wave of murmuring descended the hall then, and the Court of Nightmares returned to their mingling. With a dismissive flick of Xander's finger, Keir stood again. The rancour she caught blooming in his eyes quickly gave way to abject glee when his gaze landed on Fiona.