OMFG I'M SO BEHIND! I'M SORRY! I HAD A FEVER ALL DAY ON FRIDAY AND HAVE BEEN SO BUSY HOUSE-HUNTING (OUR LANDLORD IS KICKING US OUT BECAUSE HE WANTS TO RESELL THE HOUSE FOR A HIGHER PRICE) THAT I HAVEN'T HAD THE CHANCE TO UPDATE.
Outside the castle walls, Manon Blackbeak had been waiting for Rowan along with the rest of the Thirteen, their bodies outlined by the rising sun. Their company was the same as it had been when they parted ways on that beach.
The rift between Lorcan and Elide had not faded over the months they'd been searching for help from the Crochans, if the latter's frosty silence indicated anything. And until Aelin was safe, Rowan wasn't inclined to begin forgiving Lorcan, either. Even if he still looked remorseful enough that Rowan almost felt sorry for him.
As for Gavriel, he looked like he'd recovered from Maeve's severing of the Blood Oath, though his pride still seemed a bit wounded. Perhaps it would make him feel better if he helped some of the people in Terrasen's cities, rather than fight against Maeve when they rescued Aelin.
But that would be worried about later.
"Manon," he greeted, and glanced at the young man at her side. "Hello, King." The word sounded so strange on his tongue. Despite the fact that Dorian had been King of Adarlan for a while, he was still growing into his title-- still maturing. Dorian uttered a quiet greeting in response, eyebrows raised as if he was confused as to why Rowan wouldn't just say his name.
Rowan was confused about it, too, but didn't correct himself.
"Rowan," Manon replied. Her voice was almost warm-- almost friendly. If he wasn't so caught up in finding Aelin, he might have tried to make conversation with her.
"Anything to--"
"Maeve's armada has some weak gaps," Manon interrupted. "Without you, Lorcan, and Gavriel in her ranks, it's suffering. Perhaps, once we track them down, we wait until they're at their most vulnerable moment and strike."
Was she not trying to rally the Crochan witches in the time she was gone? "I-- not that I'm not glad to hear this, Manon, but... How did you find this out?"
The witch's mouth twitched. "Something we caught wind of and have been tracking-- with help, of course. Maeve's leash on Fenrys slips sometimes."
"And the Crochans?"
Her lips tightened and Rowan knew it was the wrong thing to say. He opened his mouth to ask why she was angry, but an abrupt, near-imperceptible shake of Dorian's head had him stopping himself. Whatever had Manon upset was obviously not to be mentioned-- not unless he wanted his throat ripped out. And with him still healing from his encounter with Erawan, he doubted that he'd survive her anger without help.
Distracting Manon might be in his best interest. Everyone seemed tense-- maybe having some time alone might do something to remedy that. As for Manon... Maybe an encounter with some odd Fae might be to her liking. "How would you feel about meeting some strange people?"
Her golden eyes adopted a familiar glint. "Strange people, you say. What exactly does that mean?"
It looked like he'd guessed correctly. "I'll tell you once everyone's comfortable," he offered, and despite Manon's impatient grumble, they followed him inside.
Finding each of them rooms that they liked was a task. Elide was easy. She just wanted something large and open, and there were enough of those rooms that it took no time at all to leave her in one. Dorian was pretty easy, too, as was Lorcan and Gavriel. The Thirteen were different, however. Some of them were a bit too picky for Rowan's liking-- but they were his guests, his allies, so he put up with it until they all had rooms they could at least tolerate.
After explaining his reckless deal with Erawan and what they had gained from it-- and after a few scathing comments from Manon-- he led her to the throne room.
None of them had escaped the room, and they all seemed inclined to argue or glare at one another. One of the related females-- not the shy one, and not that Nesta girl, but the other one-- seemed nearly glued to the dark-haired male's side. Rhysand, Tamlin had called him. Hadn't she been glaring at him earlier? And Rowan certainly didn't remember a tattoo on her arm. Whatever had transpired in the minutes he'd been gone had changed a lot of the situation, it seemed.
Upon hearing the doors close, they all looked back at Rowan and Manon, surveying the witch silently. The dark-haired female smiled wickedly, silver eyes glinting, and Rowan was very glad that the smile wasn't directed at him.
One glance at Manon's face, however, had him swallowing uncomfortably. Because Manon was smiling right back-- her golden eyes a temperament to the other female's silver ones. Apparently, Manon didn't seem to fimd anything off about that female-- or, if she did, she made a great show of hiding it.
"I have more questions to ask you." Rowan's voice was quieter than he intended, but nobody seemed to notice. Some of the Fae were staring at Manon's iron nails with wide eyes, and others didn't bother to care.
Rhysand gestured to Rowan almost courteously, as if he was the one in charge of the group. "Go ahead. Ask away." His blue eyes were mostly calm except for the wariness in his eyes and-- joy. That was joy glimmering in the depths. It almost rattled Rowan-- the unexpectedness of such an emotion.
"I know a few of your names, but not all. Who are you?"
Rhysand hesitated. "The two winged males behind me are Cassian and Azriel. You already know Mor and Nesta. The shy one is Nesta's sister, Elain, and the dark-haired one is--"
"Amren." Her silver eyes flicked to Rhysand. "I can introduce myself, you know."
Rhysand nodded and didn't argue, but didn't open his mouth to say anything more.
"I'm Feyre," the tattooed woman beside Rhysand said, her blue eyes narrowed warily despite the small smile she attempted. Right-- Rhysand had said her name when they were arguing earlier. She glanced to Rhysand with a question in her eyes, who simply stared back, that same joy alight in his eyes.
Mates. They had to be mates. Rowan couldn't think of any other explanation as to why they would look at each other with such adoration-- such joy, despite their odd situation. He envied them.
The only one left was the redhead, since Rowan already knew Tamlin's name. But the redhead didn't jump to be friendly-- nor Tamlin. It seemed Rhysand and the others were on a different side.
"Lucien doesn't seem to be very excited to talk," Cassian said with a quirk of his lips. Rowan could already tell that he was the arrogant warrior-type, much like Aedion had proven to be at times. Lucien glared at Cassian, jaw tight.
Before another argument could break out, Rowan quickly added, "And you come from...?"
"Prythian," Rhysand answered, and Rowan felt something like recognition at the name. It wasn't part of the continents, but... Something about it was so oddly familiar.
"And we're in Terrasen, is that right?" He added, looking around the room as if he was just noticing it. "This is very obviously a throne room of a castle-- are you the King?" He glanced at Manon. "And perhaps this is your consort?"
"No." Manon and Rowan said it in unison, stepping away from one another. Rowan grimaced at the idea of Manon ever being-- ever replacing Aelin. And even if he had never fallen for Aelin, even if she wasn't his mate... Dorian could have Manon all to himself.
Manon looked amused, but maybe a bit disturbed, herself. No, not disturbed, but insulted. Not at his quick denial, but at the idea they'd ever think she was his consort.
"Apologies for the assumption," Rhysand said to them both. "Is there a King or Queen present? Anywhere?"
"The Queen of Terrasen is currently traveling and has left us in charge," Manon purred. "So until she returns, you'll do as we say."
Tamlin looked positively murderous at the idea of being ordered around, but Lucien gave him a warning glance. Rhysand didn't say anything in response-- not agreeing in case it lead to problems in the future, likely. It was smart of him-- tactical. Perhaps he wasn't just a leader of a few people in this room, but many. An experienced leader, even-- if he could play his cards correctly.
"And what, exactly, do you expect of us?" He asked at last, his expression guarded. "You said you need help finding someone. How do we play a part in it?"
Rowan couldn't tell them everything. Not about his crazy aunt, or the Wyrdkeys, or Aelin's extraordinary power. He hesitated momentarily, picking his words carefully, and finally said, "There is someone whom has very powerful magic. A rival has captured her and plans to use her powers for some very bad things. Nobody can let that happen, because if our rival wins..." He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "This world will turn to ashes."
"And?" He pressed.
"She is a well-guarded prisoner, and they have hidden her well. The likeliness of getting her out without a fight is very small. Aedion, Lysandra, Manon and I have an army, thanks to the Queen, but it's not nearly enough to do damage. We were promised warriors-- people who can help us find her."
"And that's where we come in," Feyre murmured. "What makes you think we could help? Because of what Hy-- Erawan said? Is he trustworthy enough that--"
"It's our only option, as far as I'm concerned. Ten people might not sound like a lot, but in my experience... Even just a few people can make a difference in this fight." Even one powerful Faerie could sway some of Maeve's people. And if his cousins were still on Terrasen's side... He might just get Aelin out of that wretched place.
They all narrowed their eyes at him, and even Manon looked skeptical. But they said nothing as Amren suddenly said, "So you want us to risk our lives so that you can get this female back." Her quicksilver eyes matched her scathing tone. "What's in it for us?"
Tamlin growled. "You can't possibly be considering this!" One steady, cold glare from Amren shut him up, his golden skin paling.
He glanced to Manon, who smiled like a feral animal. "Well?" She asked, drawing out the word, her iron teeth glinting. He knew she was trying to intimidate him, though he wasn't quite sure why-- and she was doing an immaculate job.
Rowan inhaled deeply, eyes closing momentarily before asking, "What do you want out of this?"
He almost expected Rhysand to speak again, but Amren said coolly, "You have your war. We have ours. We help you in Terrasen, you help us in Prythian-- once we return, of course." Rhysand didn't protest-- none of them did. Perhaps it was out of fear, but perhaps... Perhaps, for the first time since he'd seen them, they all agreed on something.
He couldn't drag Aelin into another war the moment this one ended. But he knew-- somewhere, he knew-- that she would help, whether he promised such or not. He pressed his lips together, drawing in another long breath, and said quietly, "I will think about it."
He turned to leave, but a voice said said tightly from behind him, "No. I don't think you will."
"Excuse me?" Rowan turned to see Cassian glaring at him, all of the teasing, arrogant demeanor gone from his dark eyes.
"You heard me. You want us to risk our asses for you? So you can find some female and save your world?"
Aelin was not 'some female.' Rowan opened his mouth to say so, but Cassian pushed on.
"You will definitely risk your asses for us. Because if we don't win this war, our world is going to shit. Yours will become dust and ashes? Well ours will turn to a place full of suffering and death. Your world," he snarled, taking an aggressive step forward, wings flaring, "is not the only one at stake."
He glanced at Manon to see what she made of it, but her golden eyes were focused on Amren again, her mouth curled into that feral smile again. Obviously, she wasn't going to be of any help-- why he'd expected anything else was a mystery to him.
Aelin would not leave anyone to suffer like that. None of the court would. And it was only fair that he paid them back. And... If he took his concern for Aelin out of the equation, pretended she wouldn't fight, too, Rowan knew he'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't help. If he made them fight for his cause, and refused to do the same for them, he was no better than Maeve.
And, once again, he damned himself to hell with another promise he had no right to be making. "If you help us, we will return the favor."
Tamlin was shaking his head, green eyes filled with disgust at the mere idea of them agreeing to this. To helping him. "We need to focus on getting back," he told Lucien. "Not sit around and fight other people's wars! And the Night Court does not speak for me," he added, and his hostile glance at the others was met with seven venomous stares.
Elain just watched the exchange silently, her expression giving away no hint of an opinion. Maybe she hadn't decided. Or perhaps she had and didn't want anyone to know what that opinion was.
Rowan considered, and finally said, "Manon, would you mind finding Aedion, Lysandra, Ansel, Ilias, and Galan and bringing them here?" This wasn't just his decision to make alone. Ansel, Galan, and Manon were all leaders of part of this army, and they could easily decide to leave if they didn't like his authority. Plus, it was better to get a second opinion-- not just from allies, but from friends.
"Yes," she said, making no move to turn and leave. "I very much would." Her eyes were sharper than flint. He realized immediately that it was a mistake to attempt to order her around and had to work to hide his grimace.
"Alright, will you stay and watch them while I find them? I need your input, too."
Manon smiled slowly, taking in the ten Fae in front of her again, a new light glimmering in those eyes. "Now that, I wouldn't mind." Of course she wouldn't.
With a silent sigh, Rowan turned away, to the throne room doors, and went to find the others.
Phew! Finished it after weeks of contemplating how to write it. Ugh, my head hurts because I'm still recovering from that stupid fever. But I feel super accomplished so I'm happy.