Crescent City: A Court of Thrones and Glass

Chapter Fifteen: Feyre

A/N: Thank you @TOGxACOTAR and @holly_joyye for voting!

     The sun was still rising when Feyre awoke, the bright beams blinding her as they slipped through the cracks of the curtains. Rhys was still laying beside her, snoring softly. Feyre watched him. His blue black hair was mussed from sleep, his face soft. She pressed featherlight kisses down the side of cheek, and pulled back. Slowly, he cracked a violet eye open.
     "Admiring the view?" Rhys rumbled, his voice thick. Feyre just kissed him again. She intended to spend all morning waking him up, slowly, but suddenly, there was an incessant banging at their door.
     "Get your lazy asses up and dressed we've got some new friends to terrorize in the training rings!" Cassian. Of course. Feyre had forgotten that Aelin had challenged him a fight. A human battling an Illyrian. Feyre couldn't decide if the Queen was brave or foolish.
     "You know, Cassian, I should really punish you for speaking to your High Lord that way," Rhys threatened, slipping out from under the covers and putting his Illyrian leathers on.
     "You sure as hell can try, but you've been sitting in that cushy study a lot lately, and I think your mate wants you in one piece," he retorted through the door. Rhys rolled his eyes, but smiled at his brother's taunts. Feyre got dressed quickly, donning her Illyrian leathers too, even though she wouldn't be training today.
     "We better hurry before Cassian gets his teeth knocked in for waking someone up too early," Feyre said to her mate.
     "Maybe it will be me who decks him today," Rhys mused, "for disturbing us." He leaned in to kiss her—
     "I can hear you!" Cassian barked, banging on the door again.
     "Oh, he's going to get it now," Rhys growled and prowled for the door, Feyre on his heels. He whipped open the door to see both Cassian and Azriel standing there, the former with a shit-eating grin on his face, the latter with his hands in the air as if to say I tried to stop him.
     "Should I thank you for putting on clothes?" Cassian drawled, still grinning like a fiend. Azriel just turned to face him.
     "You should run now," Az warned Cass. Rhys lunged for Cassian, but he turned on his heel and sprinted through the House, aiming for the front door, Rhys in pursuit.
     "Don't you dare break anything!" Feyre yelled after them. Azriel just sighed, offering Feyre his arm. She took it and walked with Azriel out of the House, straightening the askew rugs and furniture as they went; messed up by the 500-year-old children running through the halls. When they reached the courtyard, Azriel scooped up Feyre and flew to the House of Wind. She was far along enough in the pregnancy that she couldn't fly herself, and it was recommended that she keep winnowing to a minimum, so Az carried her. They got there just in time to see Cassian swagger up to Aelin and Rowan's bedroom door. He raised a fist to bang on it, just as he had with Feyre and Rhys, but before he could, it swung open, revealing Aelin in the doorway, Rowan smirking behind her.
     "Prepared to have your ass handed to you?" Aelin said with a small smile that would have sent lesser men running. She was dressed in that skin-tight, battle black suit, showing off her generous curves and toned muscle.
     "Bold words from the human queen. Let's see if you can back them up," Cassian challenged, never breaking her unrelenting stare. Rowan growled, his arms crossed. Aelin turned and grinned at him, like sparring against immortal warriors was a preferred daily activity. She motioned for Cassian to lead the way.
     "My friends will be joining us. I'm pretty sure Bryce and Hunt will too," Aelin said.
     "The more the merrier," Cassian replied, "we've got lots of room." Feyre, Azriel and Rhys followed the trio to the training area, where they were joined by Dorian, Manon, Lysandra, Bryce, Hunt, Mor and Amren. The group gathered around the outside of the training ring, while Cassian and Aelin went through a series of stretches to warm up. Cass was in his leathers, red siphons swirling on either hand. He kept glancing at Aelin, a smug smirk plastered on her face, his eyes glowing with excitement and anticipation. Whenever Aelin caught him staring, she glared, the gold in her eyes flaring like flames, though the corner of her mouth twitched up. While Cassian looked like the talented, battle-hardened warrior he was, Aelin truly looked like....an assassin. She strutted over to the nearby rack of weapons and grabbed a wicked looking Illyrian sword. She strapped daggers and knives onto every part of her body, like she was donning jewelry.
     "Are you to start, or do your old muscles need some more time to stretch?" Aelin taunted Cassian. Feyre looked to her left. Rowan watched Aelin intently, his face stone cold, but there was fondness too.
     "Don't complain when you can barely walk out of here," Cass called back, already carrying all the blades he'd need (his sword, multiple daggers, few throwing knives). Aelin swaggered back into the circle, across from Cassian, and dropped into a fighting stance.
     "Let's see if you're just all talk, your Majesty."
     "Five gold marks says Cassian wins," Rhys announced with a smile. Rowan snarled at that, but responded, "Ten. Aelin." The others called out some more bets, Bryce picking Aelin and Hunt siding with Cassian. Feyre honestly didn't know who would win. She'd never seen Aelin fight, but she was human, and Cass was arguably the best warrior in all of Prythian, not to mention 500 years older than her.  Before Feyre could get too lost in thought, her mate yelled, "Rules: if either of you gets knocked out, taps out, or puts the other in a position where they can't move without dying, such as a blade to the throat, it's over. Don't kill each other," he added with a wink. More so to Cassian than Aelin. She growled at that. "Begin!"