Cassian
I cursed when my wing clipped a tree branch as I banked right. I ground my teeth in irritation, but continued my path towards Velaris, dipping and curving through the towering trees of the mountains on my second training flight of the day.
It had taken a solid three weeks after the healers had knit together the delicate bones, nerves and tendons of my wings for them to declare me strong enough for flight.
Three long, dreadful weeks where I was land-locked and useless. Unable to do anything other than rest and mourn the absence of my mate. With my wings healing, I couldn't even attempt to distract myself with my duties as general - Rowan had to step in for me.
I had experienced some dark times in my long life, but those three weeks may have been the worst of them all. The healer's hadn't been positive that they'd be able to fix my wings, and even if they could, they couldn't promise that they would ever be the same. I spent a few morbid days confronting the possibility that I would never fly again.
Add in the fact that not only did I not have my little mate nursing me back to health, but that I knew she had left purposefully? Yeah, my mind had not been a fun place to be.
I'd gone through spiral after spiral of anger, fear, grief and depression. Mad at Aelin for leaving us. Terrified I'd never see her again. Blaming myself for not being stronger, not being more powerful, not being a better warrior - because there had to be a reason why she hadn't even considered taking us with her.
There were a few days where I was perilously close to ending it just so I could find her again in whatever lay beyond.
Even through the haze of my grief, I hadn't missed my brothers sitting near me any chance they could - Az's shadows lingering when they couldn't - my own nonchalant suicide watch.
But now, with my wings once again functional - although I was still building back up my muscle memory and agility, clearly - all of those gut wrenching emotions I'd cycled through had solidified into one thing: iron-clad resolve.
We were going to find Aelin.
And I would personally rip the world to shreds before I allowed a single hair on her head to be harmed, even by her own hand. Especially by her own hand.
Fuck the gods.
Fuck them and their plans, their expectations. They could rot for all I cared.
I knew my brothers felt the same way. Following Rhys's demand that Amren figure out a way for us to get to her, Az had thrown himself headfirst into research alongside the disgraced second, utterly consumed with getting her back, with discovering another way to reforge the realms. We all pretended to ignore his side project of finding a particularly brutal way to destroy the Mortal Queens, per Aelin's direction.
Rowan, when he wasn't picking up my slack, joined the two of them in their research by sharing valuable knowledge of his home realm, or helped prep the rest of us on what we'd face in Eirlea.
The fact that none of us had even blinked at the thought that our magic might become inaccessible was proof that we'd allow nothing to stop us from reclaiming our mate. Aelin was the only thing that mattered. If I had to tear my own wings - the ones I'd been so desperate not to lose - from my back in exchange for reuniting with my mate, I'd do it in a heartbeat. No hesitation.
Rhysand had thrown himself into preparing the Night Court for his departure, setting up contingency after contingency and ensuring Mor and Amren would be ready to take over at the drop of a hat. He'd been so obsessed, he'd forgotten to inform the other High Lords about what happened in Hybern - not telling them the threat had been handled until a letter arrived from Helion weeks later, requesting an update on Illyrian troop movements.
The mind-numbing banality of the back and forth that ensued had Rhys tearing his hair out, and eventually resulted in demands for another High Lords meeting. Which, unfortunately, was today.
I soared over Velaris, wishing desperately Rhys hadn't demanded we all join him. I understood why - we were all balancing on the edge of insanity, and he would need all the support he could get. Still, even imagining the sheer number of questions I knew we would have to field about Aelin had me ready to rage.
She was ours. No other male should even be thinking about my perfect little mate.
Rationally, I knew the thought was ridiculous, but Aelin's prolonged absence had torn the door of the cage containing my most primal instincts free. My brother's were suffering similarly, all of us nearly feral.
If she thought we'd been territorial before ... just wait until we get her back. I don't know if I'll ever comfortably let her out of my sight again.
Landing on the balcony of the House of Wind, I stretched my slightly sore wings wide, luxuriating in the pop of tendons before folding them against my back and stalking inside.
Azriel was already dressed for the meeting, seated in the living room. He carefully ran a whetstone over one of Aelin's abandoned Illyrian blades, an ancient text splayed out on the table in front of him. He hadn't had a chance to tell her before Hybern, but Azriel had those blades made especially for her - as a mating gift.
With her gone, he'd become a bit ... fixated on the weapons. He rarely went anywhere without them, and was constantly maintaining them. Ensuring that they were in perfect condition for whenever Aelin could take them back.
The rest of had, wisely, decided not to fucking comment.
Silently, I headed to my room to dress for the meeting, bathing quickly before throwing on whatever the fuck Mor had laid out for me. My blank stare when she'd try to instruct me on what to wear the only evidence she needed that she would need to provide something suitable, because I sure as fuck couldn't give a damn. I'd go in my training leathers if I had my way, none of the other courts deserved an ounce of my regard.
Dressed, I returned to the living room where Mor and Rowan had joined Azriel, waiting for Rhys to appear. Only Amren would remain. Only Amren, because if she stopped hunting for a way to take us to Aelin for even a second, I was pretty sure Rhysand would rip her throat out with his teeth.
I was only slightly less sure that I wouldn't care if he did.
She was the one who'd allowed our mate to leave us, after all. She'd known Aelin's plan, and hadn't said a damn word. We'd known her, been her family for centuries and she still hadn't deigned to give us a veiled fucking hint.
I could barely stand to look at her most days.
We were silent as we waited, Azriel carefully wrapping and sheathing the blades while Mor stared morosely out the window. Rowan merely stood there, staring at nothing, his eyes cold and empty. Without Aelin, there was nothing kind left in Rowan. Nothing warm.
Had I been even marginally concerned for my own safety, I would have thanked the Cauldron that the prince was tied to us through the mate-circle. Because the male who stood before me, with power that rivaled Rhys's - the most powerful fae in our realm - he didn't possess a shred of mercy anymore. He'd raze cities to the ground and not think twice if he thought it would get him closer to Aelin.
I was almost looking forward to seeing how he reacted at today's meeting.
Rhys finally appeared, decked out in his typical formal attire that announced him as the High Lord of the Night Court, as a threat.
He nodded at us, grasping onto Rowan's shoulder before we winnowed out.
There was no banter, no light hearted wagers. Because without Aelin there was no light or joy left in the Night Court. She'd taken it all with her.
I didn't blink as we arrived on the sun-soaked veranda of the Dawn Court. The palace that used to astound me with its beauty didn't even garner a passing interest as we swept towards the same meeting room as last time.
When Aelin had been here.
For once, we were the last to arrive, the space already occupied by the other courts - save Spring, whose High Lord was still rotting in the dungeons of the Dawn Court. I had to force down the snarl building in my throat when bright, expectant eyes zeroed in on us, seeking, searching for a female who was not there.
Rowan had no such reservations, growling low in his throat at the gathered fae.
Rhysand didn't even pretend to care, sliding into his designated seat with a callous ease. The rest of us sat around him, Rowan's growls finally tapering off when the majority of the fae appeared alarmed and unsettled.
When Thesan didn't immediately speak, Rhys snapped, "Well? You demanded this meeting, so are you going to say something or is this just an abysmal waste of my time?"
Thesan blinked in shock, and even Helion's mask slipped a bit, he was so taken aback. Even Rhys's darkest High Lord mask relied on a thin veneer of politeness. But that male did not exist, could not exist in a world without Aelin. There was no male anymore, not really. Where thought and reason used to reside, now there was only a primal beast peering through Rhysand's violet eyes, daring someone to challenge him - salivating at the thought of death and destruction.
Thesan cleared his throat uneasily but began, "Rhysand, you claim that Hybern has been defeated, that he's gone. That he had the Cauldron, but that too, is now gone. We are just seeking to understand how that could be possible, considering he wasn't able to be killed during the last war, and the Cauldron's power is unfathomable."
"Aelin," Rhysand retorted crisply.
Beron snorted in derision, "The halfling? You expect us to believe that little b-"
A warning rumble had already built in my chest, the sound echoed by my brothers, when Mor cut off the suicidal High Lord.
"I would be very careful about how you speak of Aelin - if you would like your head to stay attached to your body," she hissed venomously.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dawning comprehension on Helion's face, but before he could open his mouth, Tarquin spoke up.
"Where is Aelin? It doesn't seem like her to miss out on an important meeting," he queried.
It seemed I would get a show after all. Rowan leaned forward, eyes on Tarquin - embracing the pure predator of his other form as he locked onto his prey. His frame was tight with barely controlled fury, lips stretched into a sneer.
"And who are you," he snarled, low and deadly, "that you deserve to know anything about my mate?"
Harsh inhales rebounded around the room, but I kept my gaze focused on the High Lord of Summer.
I wanted to know the answer to Rowan's question.
Rhysand had told us of his previous attempts to court Aelin - going so far as to give her a mating gift. Possessive rage clouded my head at the thought. If the male had any designs on her still, I didn't think I could allow him to walk away from this.
I don't think any of us could.
Nothing could be allowed to get between us, and unlike the boundaries between realms - I could do something about this threat. The Summer Court could get a new High Lord. They'd done it before.
Tarquin sputtered, unable to answer through his shock.
Rhysand was clearly on a similar wavelength to me, voice gravely as he uttered out, "Yes, Tarquin, please explain why exactly you're so interested in our mate."
Choked gasps and muttered curses filled the room, but our gazes did not waver from the potential rival in front of us.
Beside me, Azriel had pulled out one of Aelin's blades, running a finger up and down the razor-sharp edge in a silent threat.
Helion whispered something to Thesan that I didn't care to listen to, and rose slowly. Hands held up in front of him in a placating manner, Helion pleaded with us, "Tarquin didn't mean anything by it, he's not interested in Aelin other than the vague concern over another ruler's wellbeing. Isn't that right Tarquin?"
Tarquin nodded hastily, eyes wide - smart enough not to open his mouth. Rhys nodded sharply, but none of us halted our examination of him - still on the edge, the slightest shift enough to have us toppling over it into an animalistic rage.
Helion, with no small amount of insistence, announced, "I think it might be best for only the High Lords to remain for this next part."
Without protest, the other High Lords nodded, their entourages disappearing without a trace. If only Tarquin had gone with them, then I could have slunk off, hunted him down and made sure he understood the bloody consequences of going anywhere near Aelin.
Actually, that idea had merit ... something to explore after the meeting, perhaps?
As if he could see the violent visions dancing through my mind, Helion's voice was slightly strangled as he said, "Mor - perhaps you could enlighten the rest of us on what I suspect happened?"
Mor looked towards Rhys, but he only waved a lazy hand in permission - not tearing his eyes from the now-sweating High Lord of Summer.
"Alright," she began listlessly. Her voice was like white noise surrounding me as I half fought to contain myself, and half debated the most painful way to tear Tarquin limb from limb. "Just - don't make any sudden movements, or say anything threatening or provocative about Aelin. None of you are any match for them right now."
Hmmm, a match. I wonder if I should burn Tarquin alive instead of tearing him to pieces. That would be a fitting tribute for my little warrior.
"A few weeks ago, we infiltrated Hybern's castle, after we discovered he had the Cauldron. We thought we had a way for Aelin to ... disable it," Mor explained. In the back of my mind, I was pleased to note that she didn't explain how Aelin had planned to transform it - still protecting her and her plans.
"Hybern showed up, containing us within the castle using a spell similar to what Amarantha used, but Aelin managed to trap him, disabling him so that she could kill him and we could escape. She took him and the Cauldron with her," she finished, somehow explaining the worst day of my life in a few simple sentences.
"Took? Took them where?" Thesan questioned.
Mor swallowed. "Out of this realm."
"Fuck," Helion hissed. "You're saying that Aelin isn't in Prythian? That she left without ..."
His voice trailed off before he could finish his sentence, but the damage was done.
Rhys's cold eyes shot to him, the promise of death shining in their depths. "That she left without us, leaving her mates behind? Yes. Yes, she did."
Even the mention of Aelin leaving didn't crack the treacherous ice that coated my High Lord. "Now that you mention it - it strikes me as highly unlikely that this is the first you're hearing about it. It was your seer, wasn't it, that foretold not only her entry into Prythian - but discovered she had four mates in the first place," he hissed at his centuries-long ally and friend, fury coating every word. "So how is it, Helion, that this is the first you're hearing of what transpired? Or have you known since the beginning that our mate would abandon us?"
A chorus of growls erupted at Rhys's words, the three of us abandoning our stare-down of Tarquin to glare at Helion instead. If he had known all this time, if he had known and not told us, not warned us - there wouldn't be enough left of him to bury.
Helion had relinquished any pretense of a mask, his voice low and genuine as he croaked out, "I told you everything I know. I swear my seer didn't utter a word about her leaving."
Rhys narrowed his eyes, snarling, "Prove it."
And when Helion grunted in pain I knew that Rhys had launched into his mind, tearing down walls with night-tipped talons. "If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear," my High Lord taunted as Helion trembled before him.
Helion had to grab onto the table in front of him, shaking and sweating with the force of Rhys's assault. The surrounding High Lords were ashen, but none of them made any move to intervene - watching in horror as Rhys displayed his pure dominance over another High Lord, ripping past his mental shields effortlessly - taking what he wanted.
Long moments later, Helion slumped back into his seat, panting - the invasion over.
"Fine," Rhys sighed, looking vaguely disappointed. He didn't even attempt to disguise the command in his next words. "If your seer learns anything else, you will tell me immediately."
Helion nodded, swallowing roughly, understanding the implied threat if he failed to comply.
"Anything else?" Rhys drawled.
Kallias spoke up hesitantly, carefully. "I understand this may not be your priority, but are there any updates on the Mortal Queens?"
Next to me, I saw Azriel peel his lips away from his teeth - a vicious semblance of a grin. He could have been born and bred in the Court of Nightmares with the vile wickedness coating his next words.
"They're being taken care of."
I didn't think the High Lords could pale further, but apparently all it took was the unspoken promise of brutal violence from the shadow-singer spymaster of the Night Court.
"Are we done now?" Rowan snarled.
Beron actually flinched at his tone, but the rest of the room agreed feebly, unwilling to provoke us further.
We rose, and I was more than ready to get back to Velaris. Amren had promised an update this evening, and I was salivating at the slim chance of reuniting with Aelin today. Any deference I might have once shown the other High Lords had dissipated alongside my mate, so I strode for the door without so much as a nod of acknowledgement.
Plus, if I had to look at Tarquin's slimy face one more time, I didn't think I'd be able to stop myself from hunting him down.
Rhys paused at the door, turning over his shoulder and announcing casually, "Oh, and I'll be away for an undetermined amount of time in the near future. Make a move against the Night Court while I'm gone," a snakelike smirk tugged across his lips, "and you won't survive long enough to regret it."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel, and we stalked out of the room as one - all of us more than ready to abandon the farce of a meeting and return to Velaris. None of the other High Lords had budged, likely remaining to discuss what had just occurred, what we'd revealed.
I didn't give a shit.
None of their political machinations even registered as noteworthy, they were all so insignificant it was absurd. Even if they were to debate the best way to take us down - it didn't matter. That meeting hadn't mattered, and they most certainly did not matter.
Frankly, they should just be overjoyed that they all escaped with their lives.
I really thought someone was at least going to be maimed.
A bit disappointing, really.
Still, I didn't spare them a second thought as we returned home. My thoughts - my entire being consumed with the need to get Aelin back.
To get my mate back.