Their Fireheart

Chapter Five

The mind-numbing banality of the back and forth that ensued had Rhys tearing his hair out, and eventually resulted in demands for another High Lords meeting. Which, unfortunately, was today.

I soared over Velaris, wishing desperately Rhys hadn't demanded we all join him. I understood why - we were all balancing on the edge of insanity, and he would need all the support he could get. Still, even imagining the sheer number of questions I knew we would have to field about Aelin had me ready to rage.

She was ours. No other male should even be thinking about my perfect little mate.

Rationally, I knew the thought was ridiculous, but Aelin's prolonged absence had torn the door of the cage containing my most primal instincts free. My brother's were suffering similarly, all of us nearly feral.

If she thought we'd been territorial before ... just wait until we get her back. I don't know if I'll ever comfortably let her out of my sight again.

Landing on the balcony of the House of Wind, I stretched my slightly sore wings wide, luxuriating in the pop of tendons before folding them against my back and stalking inside.

Azriel was already dressed for the meeting, seated in the living room. He carefully ran a whetstone over one of Aelin's abandoned Illyrian blades, an ancient text splayed out on the table in front of him. He hadn't had a chance to tell her before Hybern, but Azriel had those blades made especially for her - as a mating gift.

With her gone, he'd become a bit ... fixated on the weapons. He rarely went anywhere without them, and was constantly maintaining them. Ensuring that they were in perfect condition for whenever Aelin could take them back.

The rest of had, wisely, decided not to fucking comment.

Silently, I headed to my room to dress for the meeting, bathing quickly before throwing on whatever the fuck Mor had laid out for me. My blank stare when she'd try to instruct me on what to wear the only evidence she needed that she would need to provide something suitable, because I sure as fuck couldn't give a damn. I'd go in my training leathers if I had my way, none of the other courts deserved an ounce of my regard.

Dressed, I returned to the living room where Mor and Rowan had joined Azriel, waiting for Rhys to appear. Only Amren would remain. Only Amren, because if she stopped hunting for a way to take us to Aelin for even a second, I was pretty sure Rhysand would rip her throat out with his teeth.

I was only slightly less sure that I wouldn't care if he did.

She was the one who'd allowed our mate to leave us, after all. She'd known Aelin's plan, and hadn't said a damn word. We'd known her, been her family for centuries and she still hadn't deigned to give us a veiled fucking hint.

I could barely stand to look at her most days.

We were silent as we waited, Azriel carefully wrapping and sheathing the blades while Mor stared morosely out the window. Rowan merely stood there, staring at nothing, his eyes cold and empty. Without Aelin, there was nothing kind left in Rowan. Nothing warm.

Had I been even marginally concerned for my own safety, I would have thanked the Cauldron that the prince was tied to us through the mate-circle. Because the male who stood before me, with power that rivaled Rhys's - the most powerful fae in our realm - he didn't possess a shred of mercy anymore. He'd raze cities to the ground and not think twice if he thought it would get him closer to Aelin.

I was almost looking forward to seeing how he reacted at today's meeting.

Rhys finally appeared, decked out in his typical formal attire that announced him as the High Lord of the Night Court, as a threat.