Crescent City: A Court of Thrones and Glass

Chapter Twenty-Six: Feyre

A/N: Thanks @lifeinabook500, @cosmotee, @anyaDsouza, @piscoltro, @MarianaHuerta505, @multifandomreader05, @mmariiih, @claressia, @ng0127903727, the_promised_potato , @rebekahhhhhhhh and @sg6869 for voting!

Feyre couldn't believe her eyes. Aelin and Bryce were alone, standing in the ring, crowned in flames. Feyre grabbed her mate's hand and squeezed.

      They won. They actually pulled it off, she said down the bond. Despite the mask of indifference, Rhys responded, I don't know whether to be happy that the four of them beat 52 of our best warriors with minimal damage, or absolutely terrified. 

     Let's just thank the Mother they're on our side.  Once Aelin and Bryce had cleared the ring, Feyre and Rhys addressed the Illyrians gathered before them. 

      "You have disrespected your High Lord and Lady by disobeying direct orders," Feyre announced to the crowd, "However, you made a foolish decision to bet against the fire-breathing bitch-queen. She and her friends then humiliated your finest warrior, which we feel is punishment enough." There were some grumbles from the Illyrians, but no one uttered a word, not wanting to invoke the wrath of Aelin, who no doubt was watching.

      "The question remains," Rhys continued, his black suit seeming to devour the light, "will you honour your deal?" Feyre held her breath. They desperately needed this army to have any chance at beating Mantyx and the Summoner. A heartbeat later and, like a tidal wave, the Illyrians knelt on the ground. 

     "Smart move," a voice called out from the behind the crowd. Of course it was Aelin, standing beside Rowan (looking threatening, as always), arms crossed, crown of flames glowing bright. Lysandra was on her left, snarling in ghost leopard form, her wound no more than a small slice thanks to the healers. The trio then stalked away, heading towards the tree line.  Feyre looked to the forest near the edge of the clearing. Bryce and Hunt were watching from the trees, along with Manon and Dorian. Where the King was all this time was a mystery. At least he was here now. Just then, thunder boomed overhead and lightning flashed. Feyre quickly summoned a shield of hard air to stave off the sudden onslaught of rain. 

     "On that note," Rhys drawled, "we have other matters to attend to. Report to General Cassian for orders. Be ready to march at moments notice." A grave nod from the camp lords was the only response. With that, the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court vanished.

      The bright sun in Velaris blinded Feyre as she put up an arm to shield her eyes. She hadn't realized how dark the camp seemed compared to the City of Starlight. Rhys had winnowed them to the front yard of the River House. Surprisingly, no one was here. Her mate planted a kiss on her forehead.

     "I will go get the others. We need to plan our next move," he said. "Be back in a minute." Once again, Rhys disappeared and Feyre was left alone. She loosed a breath, taking a seat on the nearby garden bench. The sun was warm on her face and she could feel the steady thrum of life in the city. Resting a hand on her swollen belly, for the first time in what felt like ages. Feyre let her problems fade away. Momentarily, she forgot about world-walkers and Valg demons and war. Instead, she focused on her unborn child. How, in just a few weeks, she and Rhys would be parents and their entire family would live happily in Velaris. There would be ups and downs, but all that matters is that they were all alive. Happy. Peaceful. Too bad the Mother had other plans. 

      "Why didn't you tell me you planned on fighting the Illyrians?" 

      "Because I knew you'd get pissy and throw a fit. Like you are right now." Feyre's daydream shattered. Rhys had returned. 

      "Yes I'm pissy. That was reckless and dangerous," Rowan said to Aelin. She winked at him.

     "Reckless and dangerous are my middle names," the Queen retorted. Hunt rolled his eyes. 

     "Please. You don't need anymore names," the angel grumbled. Bryce barked a laugh and swung an arm around Aelin's shoulders.

      "Don't mind them. They're just mad they got left out," Bryce whispered conspiratorially. 

     "I heard that," Rowan and Hunt growled. The females just looked over their shoulders and stuck their tongues out. Feyre stood, Rhys coming up beside her.

     "Let's go inside," Feyre said to the group. Aelin, Rowan, Lysandra, Dorian, Manon, Bryce, and Hunt were all crowded in the front yard. "We have much to discuss." Feyre took her mate's arm and he led her inside. Mor and Viviane were already seated in the living room, a tea service lay between them. Though the two females were deep in conversation, Viviane was slouched in her chair and she kept wringing her hands, her worry barely concealed. Feyre and Rhys sat on the couch adjacent to them, the rest of the group filed in and took a seat. 

      "Sorry to interrupt," Rhys said to Mor and Viviane, "but we have some good news." At that, Viviane immediately sat up, straightening the pale blue skirts of her dress. Mor turned as well, looking to her cousin for answers.

     "Thanks to our friends from another world," Rhys said, gesturing to Aelin, Bryce, Manon and Lys, "the Illyrians have agreed to march." 

      "Did the bastards finally get what was coming to them?" Mor asked cheekily, taking a sip of her tea. It was Rowan who answered, "And then some." Feyre bit back a laugh. They had to focus. 

     "That's great and all," Dorian said, leaning forward in his chair, "but it took our entire world's armies to defeat Erawan. I think we're going to need more than just the Illyrians." Feyre considered.

     "Mantyx's army isn't nearly as big as Erawan's was. Azriel is working on getting exact numbers as we speak," Rhys added, "Getting the all the Courts to ally would be extremely difficult, considering what happened during the War, which means we should plan on needing as few armies as possible."

     "What about Keir and his Darkbringers?" Feyre asked Mor. She shook her head, placing the teacup on its saucer.

     "He won't help. They suffered to many losses during the War. Plus, he hates you," More answered, shrugging. Feyre snorted. 

     "Can we use magic to our advantage?" Hunt suggested. "Almost all Fae here have magic, right?"

     "Because if we exploit the Valg's weaknesses with magic, then we won't need the numbers," Rowan chimed in. Aelin nodded along, wheels turning in her mind.

     "Yrene was able to heal hundreds of Valg soldiers alone, plus defeat Erawan, while pregnant, I might add, with her healing gifts," Lysandra mentioned. The shifter turned to face Aelin. "You were the only fire-bringer on that battlefield and the Lock had already stolen most of your powers, yet the Valg still feared your flame." Aelin jumped out of her seat.

      "That's it. We don't need huge numbers. Just the right people. We have the Illyrians. If we assemble an army of healers and flame wielders, Mantyx and the Summoner won't stand a chance," the Queen said, hope sparking in her eyes. Manon's golden stare slid to Feyre. 

     "How many live in the Night Court?" the witch asked coldly. Feyre considered. Unfortunately, the number wasn't as high as she hoped.

     "Not enough to make an army," Feyre responded. Rhysand groaned, tipping his head back and throwing a hand over his face.

     "Which means we need Thesan to work with us.....and Beron," he said begrudgingly. Feyre hauled herself to her feet.

     "Well, Mor, draft up the letters. We have to call another emergency meeting with the High Lords."