Divided (Throne of Glass and A Court of Thorns and Roses Crossover)

Chapter 39

"Come on, Spell-Cleaver! In all of those bloody books you have, there's not one that will restore me to my true form? Or even how to make this godsforsaken mirror work!" an angry female voice raged from within. Feyre let out a breath. At least Helion was still alive. 

"I can't! I've told you. You need to know the name of the mate!" Helion's weak voice answered. 

One of the guards knocked on the heavy wooden door, and he was given leave to enter. The remaining guards pushed her forward into the room with the dark witch. 

"Good morning, Feyre. How are you and your darling baby boy doing today?" Maeve mockingly cooed from her throne. 

Feyre's eyes went to where Helion sat, hunched above the broken mirror. 

"Aww, come now, Feyre. Don't you even want to ask me how I know it's a son?" Maeve continued.

Finally, Feyre's gaze moved to the evil woman, "How do you know it's a boy?"

"I'm all-knowing, my dear," Maeve smiled. 

"Then why can't you work the mirror, Maeve?" Feyre whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

"That's why I've brought you here. You can show me how to work it."

"No."

"Hmm. Do I need to show you again just how much you have to lose?" 

"I won't show you how to work it."

"Fine," Maeve replied, waving a hand. Instantly, a guard set upon Helion, and Feyre closed her eyes. 

"Are you sure, Feyre?" she cooed again. 

Feyre opened her eyes and saw the pleading in Helion's eyes. He wanted it to end.

"I'm sorry," Feyre whispered to her old friend and then turned to the ancient female. "I will not help you terrorize Prythian anymore." 

"Fine, " she tisked and raised a hand. "I have no use for him anyways."

Before Feyre could even try to change her mind, the guard pulled out a knife and slit Helion's throat. Blood stained his once-white tunic and pooled on the ground below him. 

"If your friend was not enough to sway you, perhaps your mate will be," Maeve smirked as the doors clanged open. 

A stirring Rhys was dragged past her and onto the bottom step of the dais. One of the guards held a knife to her mate's throat to keep him in place.

"Please. Please don't kill him," Feyre choked out, a hand on her growing belly. "Please!"

"Oh, I'm not going to kill him, you stupid girl," Maeve answered. 

"Then what?" Feyre whispered before a guard grabbed her from behind, one knife at her throat and another pointed at her stomach. Rhys had finally awoken and his eyes were wide, a snarl ripped from his lips. 

Maeve smiled down at him, "I want him to swear the blood oath to me. And if he doesn't, I'll kill his mate and his child. I don't think he'll refuse. Will you, Rhysand?"

The guard behind him released the knife just enough for him to speak. He looked back at Feyre, and she shook her head as much as she dared with the knife to her throat. She would rather be dead than have Rhys become a prisoner to a deranged queen once again. 

She saw him swallow hard before reluctantly saying, "I will swear it to you if you promise to release my mate and child as soon as I do. No harm shall come to them."

"Of course not, beautiful Rhys. They shall be taken back to the Night Court as soon as possible."

"I accept those terms then."

"Then, let us begin," Maeve smiled, speaking in an old language that Feyre didn't know. With the ornately carved knife on her hip, she cut into her hand, letting drops of blood stain the floor.

The ancient female walked down the stairs from her throne, stopping in front of Rhys.

"Repeat after me, 'I, Rhysand, High Lord of Night of the Realm of Prythian, do swear...'"

It didn't matter that Feyre screamed for him to stop the entire time he repeated her words, he kept going, not looking at her once. 

Maeve finished, " 'And I shall never serve anyone above my Queen.'"

"PLEASE! RHYS! STOP!" Feyre begged as he repeated the words. 

"Now, you must cut your palm, let the blood mix with my own," Maeve breath, excitement in her eyes as she passed the bloody dagger to him. He took it and finally looked at Feyre, who was fighting against the knife at her throat, begging him not to do it. He looked away quickly.

Feyre stopped breathing as things started to move in slow motion. The dagger in Rhys' hand, the guards, Maeve. The world seemed to stop as a blinding white light exploded through the dark room. 

The first thing Feyre notice was Rhys' dagger clatter to the ground, his hand unscathed.

The second thing Feyre noticed were three new figures, clad in differing colors, sprawled across the ground where Maeve had left the damaged silver mirror.

The last thing Feyre noticed was the grin on Maeve's face as the room exploded into chaos.