Oh my god we reached 30 chapters. This is officially the longest story I have ever written. Wow. Also: It may be a bit oddly written towards the end. My fault. I was writing this at 1:00 AM and don't want to rewrite half of the chapter.
Traveling with Essar, Remelle, and Benson hadn't been as horrible as Rowan expected. Sure, Remelle in particular complained about the cold climate, especially once they reached the mountains, but they were all useful in their gifts. Essar and Lucien together created a good amount of fire to sustain the group, and Remelle was able to translate things passersby warned them about along the way. The Valg were targeting Fae specifically, one warned. Rowan had already known that, so he'd only nodded. And then explained what the Valg were to the entire group. Essar informed him that they'd run into a few in their travels. Rowan wasn't surprised.
By the time they'd been traveling for about six weeks, the climate had gotten steadily colder. They had gotten through the Anascaul Mountains after weeks of travel, and Rowan was relieved that they'd gotten through the harsh conditions as quickly as they had.
But their venture was not over yet. Not for a while.
Lorcan was the one who called it a day as dusk began to settle around them. It was still trecherously cold, even if they were out of the mountains, and walking in the dark wasn't a wise idea.
Essar set up the fires, and Rowan took first watch. The closer they got to Valg territory, the warier Rowan was. If there hadn't been so many Valg laying around, he might have scouted. But scouting alone was dangerous for everyone, including him, so he did the next best thing.
Rowan wasn't surprised when the High Lord approached him an hour into his watch. "I've found you don't talk all that much, so I want you to do waht you usually do: keep quiet and listen." Rowan waited and Rhysand settled on the ground beside him. "I've made a lot of friends, and I've made a lot of enemies, as I'm sure you have done as well," he began quietly. "In the six centuries I've been alive, I've never made better friends than the ones you've met in my Court. Being a High Lord means I'm responsible for whatever happens to them, and I am not about to let my friends or my wife-- by the Cauldron, not even Tamlin-- die because you never tell us anything." Rowan almost opened his mouth to speak, but remembered he was supposed to keep silent, and did.
"We've been stuck together for over a month, now, and you've given us nothing. We don't know where we're going, who we're looking for, why we're looking for them, or anything in between. You expect us to fight for you, but give us no information on what we're even fighting." He took a quick breath, then said, "So the Cauldron help me, Prince, if you don't start flapping that mouth of yours and tell us what's going on, I will kill you and every single one of your friends if that's what it takes to be free and return home to my war and my politics and my problems." Rowan finally looked at him then. Those violet eyes were like daggers.
Rowan was silent for a long time. "I can't give you a lot of details--" It would hurt too much.
"Do you know how Feyre and I met?" Rhysand interrupted abruptly. Rowan paused, feeling like there was a trap somewhere in those words. He finally shook his head. "Then you're about to learn."
He moved around a bit until he was in a more comfortable position, then said, "Fifty years before I met Feyre, there was a female named Amarantha." He spoke the words quietly, as if whatever this female had done was still a fresh wound. "She tricked all seven High Lords of Prythian and took away our powers. I figured it out fast enough to warn Mor, and then I no longer had the power I once did. I had scraps, as the others did, but not enough to really do anything. She took a special hatred to me and kept me in her bed for those decades."
He cocked his head, as if working out what details he didn't want to give him. Finally, he said, "I could see Feyre's dreams long before she came to Prythian. And when she did, I tricked Amarantha into allowing me to leave for one evening. I met Feyre, talked to her, and then I brought Amarantha a few gifts from where I'd gone, so she wouldn't test my loyalty."
"You said Feyre wasn't from Prythian. What's beyond?"
His eyes shuttered, but he said after a monent's pause, "The mortal lands. Feyre was originally human."
Rowan glanced at the sleeping female, her golden-brown hair splayed out in her sleep. "How."
"I'm getting there. Amarantha found out about Feyre's existence, and put me to the task of learning about the mortal girl that stole Tamlin's heart." That part surprised him. Feyre and Tamlin seemed more like enemies, but they'd once been in love?
"When I asked for a name, Feyre lied to me and gave me a false one. I gave that name to Amarantha, and she found the actual owner of that name, killed her family, then tortured the girl for weeks. I thought that could be the end of it, that Tamlin would get some sense and send Feyre away before she got hurt, and Amarantha would be none the wiser. He did, but she came back." Rowan didn't fail to notice the change in his voice. He was trying to stay as emotionally distant as possible, but was, for the most part, failing. "Amarantha decided to test her, and put her through violent trials. They made a deal: complete the trails and she'd free the Spring Court. One misstep meant death, and she succeeded in all of them with the help of a bargain I made with her." Rowan gauged by the anger in Rhysand's voice that the tale didn't end as well as it could have.
"But Amarantha was angry, and deceiving, so she tweaked the deal on Feyre. Then she tortured and killed her. Snapped her neck. Tamlin killed Amarantha for it." Rowan couldn't see Rhysand's expression, but he could only imagine the pain that he must have been feeling. Rhysand shook his head as if to clear it, then said, "I broke into the heads of every High Lord in Prythian and asked them to save her. They each gave her a little bit of magic, and when she began to breathe again, she was Fae. Only a few days later, as I bid her farewell, the mating bond snapped into place, and I left her in the Spring Court with the understanding that she was my mate but in love with another male."
"Tamlin?" Rowan cursed in his head the moment he said it. So many questions, but that was the first one he asked? He had a chance to learn about this male, to understand who he was.
"Tamlin," the High Lord confirmed.
"And what convinced Feyre to leave him?" There was so much still untold.
A quiet laugh. "I crashed her wedding and called in the bargain I'd made with her during her trials."
Rowan could tell he was withholding information, but didn't pry. Instead, he took a moment to digest the information. "Why tell me this?" He asked finally.
Rhysand slid his gaze to Rowan's, and despite his strong voice through the entire story, his eyes were lined with silver. "Because you need to know my truth, and I need to know yours." He frowned, blinking the extra shine in his eyes away. "Think of it as information in exchange for information."
"And what makes you think I'll go along with it?"
"Because I know you're going through something similar. Essar isn't the only one who understands what it looks like to be separated from your mate. I was separated from Feyre for three months because she didn't want me around. Because she was getting married and she'd have her little happy ending. And if she was happy..." He shrugged.
"She wasn't."
He blew out a sharp, quiet breath through his nose. "Definitely not."
They sat in silence for a very long time, and Rowan finally stood up. "Come on."
He led Rhysand away from the group, out of earshot of anyone who could be listening, then sat down again, leaning against a particularly large stone as support against the wind. When Rhysand had sat beside him, Rowan quietly contemplated his words. Finally, he said quietly, "My mate has many names. Some know her as Celaena Sardothien, others by Elentiya, or by Lillian Gordaina." He paused, readying himself for the blow he was about to deal to himself. "Her real name, the one given to her at birth, is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She was kidnapped by a female named Maeve months ago, and nobody has had any luck finding her. The reason I tell you this away from the group is because Remelle and Benson think she's a low-born Demi-Fae." His eyes drifted to the sky, clear and dark and filled with stars. Could Aelin see the sky as he did?
When Rowan didn't speak again, Rhysand prompted, "But?"
Rowan looked away from the sky and met Rhysand's gaze. "She's the Queen of Terrasen."
Rowan told the story until his voice was hoarse and his heart ached worse than before. He told Rhysand about their initial meeting, the rivalry between them, the way she killed the Valg Princes, then brought magic to Adarlan. He told him of Darrow's rejection of her title and her promise to him, of her tricks with Lysandra which were really practice for what she expected to happen, what she could see coming when nobody else could. And when he told Rhys of the moment when he found a bloodied shirt on the ground in tatters with the owner nowhere to be found, the High Lord gripped his shoulder in silent support.
And when the story was over, they both came to a silent understanding. Not friends, but not enemies either. Rowan said quietly, "I still hold you to this deal, but I will not treat your Court like prisoners any longer." Rhys nodded, but didn't thank him. Rowan didn't expect him to.