Crescent City: A Court of Thrones and Glass

Chapter Twelve: Aelin

    
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     Aelin could barely follow the conversation, her mind was working so fast. How was it possible that her magic and human body had returned? And Rhysand, he had saved her, returned her to her world when she forged the Lock, why? How and why were she, Dorian, Bryce and Hunt summoned here, of all places? The High Lord and Lady hadn't mentioned anything, other than what Prythian was like. Although Aelin herself certainly hadn't revealed anything, either. Gods, she missed Rowan. His presence would calm her, enough so that she could figure out what the hell was going on. At least Dorian was here. Suddenly, Mor and Azriel burst back into the council room, frantic.
"We've got more newcomers. They've kicked Tamlin's ass and are making demands," Azriel panted.
"Lucien is there. He said there are three of them. A powerful fae male, who can shift into a hawk, a human, who can somehow shift as well, and a female of unknown species," Mor informed. Dorian and Aelin stood, sharing a look. Aelin opened her mouth to say something, but Rhysand cut her off.
"Inform the other High Lords, tell them to prepare their defences. Has anyone else noticed anything unusual?"
"Yes. Kallias reported a dead body and a missing person. Lesser fae, no sign of physical trauma, but dead nonetheless, and a missing high fae," Azriel reported, shadows crawling over his shoulders.
"Okay," Rhysand responded, calculating their next move, "Let's go liberate the Spring Court and see what these guys want. Bring the attackers back alive." He glanced at Feyre and she nodded.
"Amren will bring you to the House of Wind," Feyre said, addressing Dorian, Aelin, Bryce and Hunt.
"No," Aelin interrupted, "we're coming with you. They're from Erilea—the 'attackers'—we know them. And you will not touch them." Her voice was hard, no room for argument.
"If they're friendly, why would they cause a fight?" Rhysand drawled.
"Well," Bryce interjected, "this Tamlin guy seems like a real dick, from what you've told us. He probably said something offensive and got what was coming to him." Cassian barked a laugh.
"She's not wrong. I guess we'll have to postpone our sparring match, Aelin, 'til tomorrow. I'm sure you can't wait for me to mop the floor with you." Aelin gave him a smile that would have sent most men running.
"Let's go, Rhysand, before I decide to prove Cassian wrong right now." The High Lord rolled his eyes at his brother.
"Amren, still bring Bryce and Hunt to the House if Wind," Rhys ordered, "Az, investigate the dead body and missing person, Mor, stay in Velaris, Cass, you're with us. And Feyre, I assume you're coming, even if I ask you to stay?" Feyre just rolled her eyes, grabbed Aelin's hand, and winnowed to the Spring Court manor. Rhysand quickly followed suit with Cassian and Dorian in tow.
Aelin opened her eyes, and she was standing in a courtyard, surrounded by a garden of roses. The Spring Court, she assumed, due to the overwhelming smell of flowers. Next to Feyre, Dorian, Cassian and Rhysand appeared. The power that the fae here possess, winnowing, they called it, seemed a lot similar to Fenrys'. He would certainly like to know that. Rhys and Feyre approached the massive main doors first, the former flinging them open with his power, making a grand entrance. Cassian followed closely behind, then Dorian and Aelin brought up the rear. As Aelin strolled through the manor, she noticed it was in an obvious state of disrepair, with trashed rooms, claw marks everywhere, and no one else in sight. It wasn't until they neared the dining room that they heard voices. An angry growl, a deceptively sweet purr, and a lethal snarl. Aelin and Dorian hung back while the other three entered the room.
"We heard you want something?" Rhysand drawled, pure malice in his voice; a mask, Aelin figured. Before anyone inside could respond, Dorian and Aelin popped their heads in.
"Let me guess, you're looking for us?" Aelin chirped, taking in the sight of Manon, Lysandra and Rowan standing over two fae males, bound to dining chairs by invisible restraints. The blond—Tamlin, she guessed, looked absolutely livid, while the redhead, Lucien, just appeared mildly inconvenienced. Aelin almost laughed. At the sound of her voice, Rowan looked up, shocked.
Aelin, are you hurt? Rowan looked her up and down, concerned, Who are these guys and how are you human? He said with his eyes.
I'm fine. These are some friends. I will explain later, just don't kill anyone yet, you buzzard, Aelin shot back. Rowan took a step back, away from Tamlin, but made no move to free them. Aelin ran to embrace him, giving the males in the chairs a wide berth.
"Well hello, witchling," Dorian said, stepping into the room. Feyre, Rhys, and Cassian just watched the exchange, wary, yet slightly amused.
"Hello, princeling," Manon growled back. She tried to hide it, but relief washed over her. After Lysandra hugged Aelin, Rhysand coughed pointedly.
"Care to explain why my ambassador and one of my fellow High Lord's are magically restrained and threatened in their own home?" Rowan, keeping his arm around Aelin, glared at Rhysand.
"Tamlin over here decided it would be a good idea to patronize, then threaten a full-powered shifter and an Ironteeth witch. I decided he was worth more alive than dead," he responded nonchalantly.
"What do you mean by full-powered shifter?" Feyre asked, curious. Lysandra grinned, then proceeded to shift into an exact clone of Feyre. She glided over to where the High Lord and Lady stood by the door. Feyre yelped in surprise.
"It means," Feyre-Lysandra purred, "I can shift into any thing I want." Cassian, unable to contain his curiosity, said "Anything? And you're human?" Lysandra turned her predatory gaze onto the Illyrian. "I'm human," she said, "and anything at all, as long as I know what it looks like." She shifted back into her usual body, then stalked back to Aelin's side.
"Can you do that?" Cassian asked Feyre. So the High Lady had other gifts as well as the winnowing, Aelin noted.
"I don't know how much range I have," Feyre admitted. Her mate put an arm around her shoulders.
"What the hell is an Ironteeth witch?" Tamlin snarled, struggling against Rowan's restraints. Manon just smirked, showing off her iron teeth, and flicked her hands so her nails were prominently displayed. They looked positively wicked, gleaming in the light. Feyre, Rhys and Cassian had the right to look terrified, even Tamlin was scared.
"Did you not get a close enough look during our little skirmish? If you could even call it that, because I can get closer," Manon said, deadly quiet. Her golden eyes glowed. Tamlin paled. Dorian just grinned. Aelin sauntered to the middle of the room, commanding everyone's attention.
     "Now that we've all been acquainted, I think it's time we make our exit." Aelin inclined her head to Feyre and Rhysand. "High Lord, Lady, if you'll do the honour." Tamlin roared in anger, "This is highly unacceptable!" He addressed Rowan. "Deal with your bitch!" He spat the word. Rowan's face hardened as he bent over, coming face to face with Tamlin. He was so close, their noses were almost touching. Centuries of death and the promise of violence danced in Rowan's pine green eyes as he snarled, "You will find, Tamlin, that one does not deal with my Queen, one survives her."
     With that, he stalked over to Aelin and took her hand, motioning for Lysandra and Manon to do the same. Rhysand took Aelin's hand, while Feyre took Cassian's and put a hand on Lucien's shoulder.
     "Tamlin, never a pleasure. Shall we?" Rhysand said, then he and Feyre winnowed back to the House of Wind. As the King-consort of Terrasen vanished, the invisible bonds holding the Lord of Spring broke. Back in the Night Court, Aelin smiled, thinking she could almost hear his roar of outrage in the distance.