Never trust shipping companies. A crossover between acotar and tog. Aelin ends up in the Spring Court with Rowan and Maeve racing to find her. Friendships arise and bonds are formed. All characters are Sarah J. Maas' except for Ceridwen. Many, many...
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Tam the ham trailed his mucky fingers down the soft flesh of the Illyrian wings. Soon, he promised. The Night Court would fall. He would kill Feyre and Rhys slowly. After what they had done to him. After they degraded him, turned his court against him, and after Feyre went crying to Rhys. Yes, they would pay. Rhys' wings would find themselves right next to his mother's. A family reunited. Of course, Hyburn had been a mistake. Feyre was not worth the wall. Feyre was not worth much at all. Still, some deep part of him still wanted Feyre. Missed her. This part of him still felt stung by her betrayal. Even after 20 years. But, the larger part of him thirsted for vengeance. Needed to draw the dagger across her throat and watch the light fade from her eyes. A dark part of him wanted to watch Feyre see her mate die.
Ianthe's replacement and former protégé, Ceridwen, laid her hand atop his. "My lord. There is a rather delicate matter you should attend to. Someone has sent you a gift it seems," she said sweetly.
"This could be a trap. I wouldn't put Rhysand above it, but if this gift can aid us..." He trailed off. Ceridwen knew the stakes. A powerful weapon would be very valuable. She led him through the airy halls to the main foyer. A casket or perhaps coffin rested in the center surrounded by armed men. It was solid iron and decorated in loops and whorls of sun.
"A gift from the Cauldron or a demon from Rhys," Ceridwen murmured musically. Tamlin strode to the rim.
"Open it," he commanded in his most powerful voice. Unlocking he seals, the guards carefully lifted the lid. Tamlin peered down to the scarred body of a girl not much older than 19. Her eyes flashed open. They were the bluest of blues with a core of golden fire.
- - -
Rowan could not remember flying so far or so fast. He became the wind and only rested when he began to forget who he was and only who he was after. Carranam. Equal. Lover. Friend. Mate. Wife. Aelin Ashryver Galathinius. He could imagine her quicksilver tongue and vicious laugh pulling his streamlined form through the air. After flying for countless hours, Rowan's sharp hawk eyes finally found the ports of Wendlyn. Never had he been so relieved to see Maeve's home continent. Angling his wings, he dove towards the docks. The wind tore at him and tears blurred his vision, but pain, pain would never interfere to saving Aelin. Rowan landed in a secluded spot so he could shift. He remembered telling Aelin to shift. When he didn't know her. Not really. They had been through so much together, they were more like one soul in two bodies now. In fae form, Rowan went to the nearest inn to rest. He needed the deep regenerative sleep after exhausting his mind and body so thoroughly. The inn was crowded and stank of unwashed bodies and too much ale. Everyone belonged to a conversation, activity, group of their own, except for one man slumped over the bar deep in his cups. Rowan started towards the bar- drunk men gave more information than they knew the next day. Perhaps he could gather information.
"Sir. You must be very troubled indeed to wish to be swept away in the tide of drink. Perhaps conversation can do the same. Ease the troubles," Rowan said molding his voice to a thick accent. No reply. "Maybe you ain't got no troubles, but I sure do. I lost m' best ship to pirates. Lost all my cargo," he goaded. "And m' wife- "
"A box," the man cut off.
"Sir? I ain't get your feelin'- "
"A box. A great big iron one." Rowan stiffened. "I lost it and now I'm dead. Literally, Maeve wanted it. Pretty badly by the likes of it and I lost it. Confused Ghamlin, Lord of Spring Manor with Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court. Now it's off to the land above- Prythian they call it and I'm dead. So dead," the man slurred. Rowan sat up and left. He was lucky. So lucky that he had stumbled upon this man, this critical piece of information. Aelin was not in the hands of Maeve or her prison master, but who was this Tamlin? What would he do with his mate? He needed, needed so badly to be at Aelin's side. He needed to know she was safe. And so, Rowan prepared for the great journey before him.
