A/N: Slight Throne of Glass "spoilers," from Empire of Storms and before. No Tower of Dawn or Kingdom of Ash spoilers.
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✧ ?'s POV ✧
I left the Night Court the afternoon before the meeting between the different Courts. Feyre and Rhysand should be leaving later, as far as I've gathered, so it left me much time to get acquainted with the Dawn Court. After all, I suppose a realm can change much after 3,000 years.
I winnowed into the mountains on the border of the Winter and Dawn Court, opting to hike through them and into the High Lord's palace in order to elude suspicion. The hike through the mountains was much easier in my Fae form, which was supposed to be a tedious trek instead of a light exercise.
I made quick work, reaching the palace about an hour before sunset. I entered through the underground catacombs and sewer pipes under the sky-high palace. Using my shadows to conceal me for good measure, I slipped inside a door as a servant took some trash out, emerging into the busy kitchens below. Even though it was crowded, I used some fancy footwork and a little bit of magic to reach the hallways that lead to the rest of the palace.
Surfacing from the sub-levels of the palace, I came out into a small service hall and followed the flow of servants until I reached a corner that rounded into one of the main halls. I knew I was in one of the main halls, as the flow of servants became intermixed with royal courtiers and advisors, on their way to their duties.
When no one was looking, I quickly revealed myself, casting another quick glamor spell immediately after, dressing myself in the finery of a courtier. My glamored dress, simple as it was, looked to be made of pure silk. I added a heavy set of jewels to finish my look and carried myself with regality when I turned the corner.
I always forgot the downside to glamoring elaborate clothes on with my magic: I had to walk as if I was truly wearing the garments, otherwise even the most oblivious people would cast suspicious glances. It got tedious as I carried my arms as if they were folded and resting on the large skirt of my gown, rather than simply clothed in my assassin suit.
I plastered a serene smile on my face as I glided, thinking of Aelin as the daggers in the sleeve of my assassin suit became heavy, weighing down my arms. The assassin suit, a gift from my firey friend, was useful in many ways, but particularly burdensome under the glamor of beautiful finery.
I was walking leisurely, observing the faces of the people in the Court around me as I strolled along the halls. I followed the general flow of the crowd, where people began to return from or return to. My patience turned out to be rewarding as I finally turned another corner, and reached the main hall of the palace that united the three main towers.
I caught the eye of a servant walking by, and held my hand out to them in question, my face bewildered. "Pardon," I said, a fake thick Autumn Court accent (at least the typical accent from my last visit) disguising my voice as I spoke. "But I do hope you can help me. I seem to have gotten lost on the way to the library."
The servant listened to me intently, looking at my chest. It took me a second to remember I was glamored, and still clothed underneath, as I refrained from slapping the young 's attention back up to my face. He pointed me in the direction and I thanked him, politely picking up my glamored skirts and walking away.
I kept up the glamor until I reached the staircase, the light just dark enough for me to stick to the shadows once again. I heard the clock ring as it reached sunset, meaning dinner was finished. As far as I remembered, the Daytime Courts ate quite early into the evening and finished around sunset.
I quickly dropped my glamor, before finding solace in the comfort of my shadows as they hid me from view. I descended the staircase quickly, my small pack on my back bobbing with each step. I kept my footsteps light - silent, even - as I descended. I reached the first floor of the library at the base of the tower, the walls transitioning from a stone to a luxurious and sturdy white marble, and then finally to bookshelves. They were built into the walls around the spiral staircase, breaks in the walls for smaller tunnels and chambers, or reading alcoves to accompany to visitors. A cylindrical bookshelf stood in the center of the tower, books floating on and off the shelf as librarians below sorted through.
I descended further and further, up until the second to last story of the library. The walls returned to marble here, but I spotted an empty alcove with an entrance easy to glamor. I walked in, the moderate size cubby hole stacked with books and cushions. A small coffee table sat in front of a fireplace, couches and armchairs on their respective sides.
Turning around to the entrance of the alcove, I muttered a simple glamor spell and drew a symbol on the marble with my finger, a solid slab or matching stone appearing out of thin air in the spot where a door should go. It would only disappear if someone happened to walk into it as if there was an opening.
Sighing in relief, I let go of my shadows, finally not disguised anymore. I took my pack off, hiding it in a corner under a pile of cushions. I stretched, unstrapping some daggers from my suit and putting them with my back. I started a fire with a flick of my wrist, the heat staving off any dampening cold. I browsed the bookshelves for something to read while I waited for dawn.
I had selected a rather sappy mortal romance book, the cover and binding of the book tattered. It was written in a primal form of the common tongue of Prythian, probably about 15,000 years old. Making myself comfortable in one of the couches near the fire, I immersed my self in the book, reading every page like it was my last. Mortal lives were so fascinating to me, especially their trivial view on romance and love.
I must have been really into the mortal book, because I was caught by surprise as footsteps quickly approached my alcove and a hand stuck through the wall, breaking the glamor spell. I had just enough time to drop my book on the table and shapeshift into a cat, quickly bolting over to the wall adjacent to the entrance of the alcove.
From my feline perspective, I watched as the High Lady of the Winter Court, Morrigan, and the High Lady of the Night Court filed in, whispering to themselves about gossip. I stalked out, my tail brushing against Feyre. She screamed, and I glanced at her in annoyance as I left, ascending the stairs.
There was a bookshelf wall near the alcove, and I hopped up the shelves until I was on the top one. Great, I thought as I licked one of my cat paws, before curling up. The voices of the three women carried to me, and I let their conversation drone on as I nestled in. Might as well get some sleep.
However, they had other plans for me. I barely caught much shut-eye, as they had kept me up well into the night. The three of them went to their quarters to get about an hour of sleep before the meeting when a maid had come to pick up her favorite book and discovered them. Luckily, she didn't rearrange the pillows and unearth my things. When the maid had left, and the librarians were gone, I jumped from my perch, still in my cat form, sneaking into the alcove.
I cast another quick glamor spell, one that held just long enough for me to strap my weapons on and grab my pack. I opened it up just to check, the charmed bag stuffed with my two favorite swords, my bow and a quiver, and various daggers and knives. I grabbed the swords and a few spare knives, and hid my pack again, fixing it to look normal. I prayed no librarian with an organizing passion would find the alcove and my belongings.
I only have Aelin to blame for my newfound obsession with weapons. I thought about my friend as I left the alcove once more, fractured rays of light beginning to illuminate parts of the tower as I ascended. My glamor spell disappeared, and I disguised myself in the shadows once more.
I clung to the walls as librarians and servants made their rounds before their masters woke up in an hour. I emerged from the lower levels, back into the main hall, my path set to the Right Tower, where the meeting was held atop the spire.
There were more staff and servants running around up here, and I quickly glided along. I added a little more effort to conceal myself as the rays of light that began to emerge casted light across the mirrors and windows of the main hall. If anyone noticed me, I most likely just appeared like a flash of shadows in their peripheral vision. By the time they looked twice, I was gone.
I reached the top of the tower before the High Lord of the Dawn Court himself, the area bare save for the reflection pool, and chairs previously set up.
I walked around, still clutching the shadows to hide me from sight as I inspected the structure, entrances, and exits for the top of the tower. Once you came in, there were only 2 ways to get out: the staircase, or a long fall to the ground. I positioned myself near a beam that faced away from the rays of the rising sun, so I was protected by the shade. I had settled in position as I heard voices ascending the tower.
The host arrived first, his lover talking to him quietly as they sat down after servants had helped them arrange chairs for the rest of the courts. Thesan's top three advisors sat beside him, their face stony as they waited for the meeting to start. His winged lover had stood beside Thesan's chair, hand on a magnificent looking sword. I haven't seen a Peregryn in a long time, I thought to myself, picking at one of my nails as I waited.
The High Lord of the Summer Court arrived next. The young dark-skinned man climbed on to the last step, smiling warmly at Thesan as he sat down in the empty chair next to the High Lord of Dawn. They briefly exchanged some words before Tarquin turned around and talked to his cousins, awaiting the arrival of the others.
I like his hair, I thought as the Summer Court High Lord's hair shone in the sun, the whites and grays bright. Maybe I should try it one day. There was no use in changing it right now, as there was no mirror or surface that would show me a reflection as long as my shadows surrounded me.
The High Lord and Lady of the Winter Court arrived with the High Lord of the Day Court shortly after Tarquin. I overheard them telling the other two present High Lords how they ran into each other on the way up before they settled in with their respective courts and made small conversation. They seemed like a happy bunch, making merry chatter and catching up.
The friendly discussions were interrupted when the smell of blooming roses and fresh grass filled the air. Not a moment later, the High Lord of the Spring Court arrived, 2 sentries on either side of him. The conversation stopped as he walked into the opening, giving a curt nod to everyone present before claiming his seat. He sat properly, like a boy trained from birth to rule, but I saw beneath his mask of indifference.
I slowly stalked over, deliberate to keep my shadows close and not let my disguise sleep. I came to stand in front of the High Lord of Spring, his deep green eyes staring through my torso. I held my hands out in front of me, casting the ancient spell in my mind as his every memory, thought, and emotion became my own.
Ah, I thought to myself as I swallowed with a bit of distaste, walking back to where I stood before as I saw his life before me. More so, the last year or so. Now I see the tension.
Tamlin was oblivious to my presence, sitting in his chair silently and stiffly as the others resumed their pleasantries, noticeably quieter now.
The High Lady of Winter took a step forward and opened her mouth to greet him, but he gave her a deadpan stare, and she closed her mouth and sat back in her chair before continuing.
I impatiently stood waiting for the Night Court and the Autumn Court. I played with the strands of my hair as I idled by. I soon stopped as the smell of jasmine and night-chilled mist replaced the lingering smell of roses.
A moment later, the Night Court appeared. Feyre and Rhysand came in first, hand in hand. The Shadowsinger and Morrigan walked in behind them, Cassian and a tiny Fae woman in the rear. Feyre smiled at everyone, the smile faltering a for a fraction of a second as she glanced upon the High Lord of Spring. She nodded her head respectively at him and he gave her a stiff nod back. I saw Rhysand's knuckles tighten on Feyre's before he strolled over to their seats. Feyre's dress caught the sunlight and turned the constellations on her dress into a real-life scene.
I admired her dress as she sat down. If there was one other thing Aelin taught me to appreciate, it was definitely the high-life.
I moved out from behind the empty spots of the Autumn Court, over in between Thesan and Helion. The sun had shone upon me as I changed positions, but I knew I looked like air as long as someone did not dwell on my location for too long. The Illyrian spymaster seemed to sense my movement and trailed me for a second before tensing up and looking around. His shadows must be sensing me, but my own must be repelling.
I brushed it off, peeking at the sky impatiently. The sun had already begun to rise. They should have started by now. I heard the exchange of words between Rhysand and Feyre's mating bond in the back of my head, like music playing in the background as I worked. My magic pulled towards the sheer power of theirs together, hidden beneath a damper. They were definietely the most powerful in the room, even though each person had more than enough power, in their own respective right.
The couple was gossiping about the High Lord of Spring, but I pushed that conversation away as Thesan sat up in his chair and cleared his throat in impatience. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the sons of the High Lord of the Autumn Court emerged, a scowl on the face of the oldest as his brothers fell into line behind him.
The eldest, Eris, bowed his head in apology as they headed for the last empty chairs in the room. "Forgive our delayed arrival," he said, his brothers and him sitting in their chairs, looking on in disapproval as Eris took the High Lord's chair.
"That's Beron's chair," Rhysand told Eris, and the copper-haired man narrowed his eyes at the Illyrian.
"If I could have a second to sit down," he said pointedly, before straightening up in his chair and announcing, "My father died last night in his sleep. I was appointed High Lord during the night. We were going to cancel, but I was advised against it. My mother didn't let us leave till half an hour ago, so sorry for the delay."
I glanced over as I heard Feyre's thoughts to Rhys, thinking Eris was being awkwardly formal. I furrowed my brows, my death magic tingling. Something tells me the late High Lord of Autumn didn't die of natural causes.
No one looked that impressed. Rhys gave a tight smile. "My condolences. Glad to hear he is dead, though."
"Good riddance," Helion added. Eris stared at Helion with a flame in his eyes, and I sensed a hidden history between. Helion smiled wickedly, magic dancing on his fingertips. He reminded me of Aelin, wickedly mischevious and confident.
I smiled in amusement to myself. I haven't seen people with this much power interact like this in a very long time.
"Okay," Thesan interjected, sitting back in his chair and placing his palms on his knees. "We have bigger problems right now. My apologies, Eris. Mother bless him. However, we did not meet here today to discuss the line of succession in the Autumn Court."
"We know," Tamlin interrupted, drumming his fingers impatiently on the arm of his chair as he motioned for someone to start.
Rhysand cleared his throat with a slight roll of his eyes, taking control. "My spymaster, Azriel, has spies overseas in the three prominent Fae territories: Vallahan, Montesere, and Rask. We knew Vallahan and Rask had joined forces with Hybern, but since the War has ended, it seems like Montesere wants more. All three of the territories are discussing possibly declaring war on us to finish what Hybern started, so to say. They want to strike while they can, while we are recovering."
I kept a watchful eye on the Shadowsinger as Rhysand talked, interest piquing my senses. Not only he was a Shadowsinger, but a spymaster, as well. My he shadows whispered to me Azriel's life story, but I waved them away as I turned my attention back to the High Lord of the Night Court. They have absolutely no idea what they would be going against, I thought to myself.
"Do we know much about their numbers?" Tarquin asked, a dark look of concern on his face.
Rhysand looked at his Shadowsinger and he stood up, clearing his throat. "My spies don't seem to last long in the overseas continents. It is believed that the armies of these territories are made up of High Fae. It's one thing for their courts to be made of High Fae, but it's entirely another for their armies to be of that nature."
"High Fae is basically what we are, correct?" the High Lady of Winter asked, looking quite meek in the stares she got in response. "I'll take that as a yes. What does that mean for us?"
"They would be highly specialized in using magic in a combat setting. The battle leaders, like generals, would probably be of your guys' power. While individual soldiers wouldn't have the power reserve of a High Lord, they would be pretty formidable in an army of 50,000," the Shadowsinger explained, brooding.
"So, we're just fucked," Eris said flatly, and I saw the other Illyrian general that was in the Night Court nod in agreement. The Shadowsinger scowled at him and he straightened, fixing his face quickly to go back to being neutral.
"Well," Kallias said, shifting in his seat. "I wouldn't phrase it like that."
"How else are you supposed to?" Helion interjected, sitting up in his seat. "These Fae territories are in far better shape than us. It is no secret we lost a lot of soldiers in the war. Hell, we evenly narrowly won the war. Considering the fact that they have generals with the same amount of power as most of the High Lords here, we are in no shape to fight again so soon."
There was a quiet moment before Tamlin cleared his throat. "I would be the most vulnerable Court, correct?" He asked Rhysand, and the High Lord of Night nodded, his violet eyes alight with distaste at the sight of Tamlin. "Assuming they invade from mortal lands first, my Court would be free to take. I have been starting to rebuild, but it proves slow. I'm trying to reestablish the trust with my people first."
"Did you even have any," I heard Rhysand mutter, and Feyre touched his hand in warning. He gave her an apologetic look, Tamlin brushing it off with a slight scowl.
Feyre cleared her throat, speaking evenly as she said, "Bare with me for a second with this next suggestion, but we could possibly enlist civilians in the armies." She stopped as there was immediate disagreement from a few of the other High Lords, waiting to carry on when they quieted down. "There are many civilians who come to me, asking for training or offering their services. One girl, a traveler from one of the other Courts, even came to me asking about creating body armor. They are obviously not oblivious to what is going on, and they would lie their life on the line for the continent. I am not one to favor the shed of innocent blood, but we know something is coming this time, and these people want to help. They would rebel if we forced them to sit on the sidelines, granted something actually happened again."
I had to stop myself from laughing at the idea of barely trained, unorganized armies going up against the armies of battle and war-honed ancient Fae. Fae who could take the air out of a person's lungs, Fae who could burn them alive with a look. The new High Lord of Autumn seemed to agree with me.
"These are our people we are talking about," Eris argued, clearly in opposition to the idea. "Bakers, maids, seamstresses, waiters, cleaners, people. We cannot turn them into fully trained warriors in the time span we are talking."
"Well, what else would we be able to use?" Kallias asked, and everyone looked around in thought.
"Is it possible to utilize the Cauldron? Maybe to make a new Wall along the mortal lines once more, and perhaps one of the Eastern border of Prythian to hold off the overseas Fae," Helion suggested. "I could probably set something up within a week. Unless they have a master spell-breaker, I am very confident they would not be able to break through the power of a new Wall."
"Are you crazy?" Rhys asked, but quickly reigned in his emotions and apologizing for his outburst as he continued, "No offense. You all saw what the Cauldron could do. You saw how Feyre almost died, again, how Amren almost got blasted back into whatever realm she came from. The Cauldron is a thing that should not be tampered with unless we need it."
"We do need it though," Tarquin said, and the other High Lords nodded in fairness. "You said it: we don't stand a chance against these all-powerful ancient Fae that want to destroy us so they can use the humans on Prythian as slaves. Hell, maybe even us as slaves. If we truly have no chance, I think that is a fair situation to use the Cauldron in."
"You don't understand," Feyre interrupted Tarquin, sitting forward in her chair. "The Cauldron is not some holy thing that does what we want it to; it does whatever it wants to. You didn't have your life force sucked out of your body by it slowly as it showed you the best and worst memories of your life. You did not feel that complete and utter weakness in not being able to defend yourself from your own powers being used against you. We cannot afford the risks of trying to utilize its powers. Most importantly, we cannot use the Cauldron."
"Well, what in the Mother do we use?" Thesan said, exasperated. "Here you are, telling us that we cannot use the Cauldron unless the world is ending, but at the same time basically stating that our world as we know it will end if we fight this new threat."
"I agree with Thesan," Kallias said, with a simple shrug. "Signs are pointing towards us having to fight anyways. I think the Cauldron exists as a viable option, especially since we do not know the true extent of their power."
"No," Feyre begged, a pleading look in her eyes. "We cannot use the Cauldron. Please."
"Then what do we do?" Tamlin shot back angrily. Rhys' nostrils flared as Tamlin got heated, his knuckles turning white as he clutched onto his chair.
"We need a miracle," The High Lad of Winter said, with a sigh of defeat. "We would need a fucking blessing from the gods, at this point."
I took that as my cue to introduce myself. I was starting to get bored. I straightened, stretching my back out and flexing my fingers as I snuck into their minds. They spent so much time throwing out stupid ideas before the High Lady of the Winter Court said the right words. Now I could have some fun.
Whispering into each person's head, I said, Why didn't you just ask?
The spymaster's eyes darted straight to the spot I stood in, hand flying for his sword. Excitement got the best of me, and I let a part of my glamor go, my perfumed scent of lavender and jasmine floating through the air, carried on the light breeze of the early morning.
The guards and sentries around the room followed suit after the Shadowsinger, his Illyrian brother standing by his side, their Siphons glowing. I rolled my neck, a wicked excitement growing in me.
Rhysand took Feyre's hand, and I felt the power inside of him build up as he released a damper on it. The other High Lords followed suit.
The magic in the room started to make me dizzy. I swallowed it down, breathing in and out and letting my own magic embrace it in return. I was a beacon of power as I started to see much clearer, noticing details like extra daggers hidden beneath clothes or chinks in their armor. My glamor started slipping more and more at the overwhelming amount of magic around me.
"I haven't had this much excitement since the drama at the last meeting," Helion said to himself, an amused smile on his face as everyone turned to give him a dry look.
The spymaster's eyes bore into the spot where my feet stood planted. Sentries and guards drew their swords and notched arrows, positioning them to where I stood. Are they really this dumb?
I closed my eyes again, sending another message into their minds: I am not here to hurt you. Put your weapons down.
The spymaster did not trust me, and everyone seemed to look to him for orders as he was the only one who had sensed me. This wasn't the fun I wanted, a little bit of uncertainty growing in my stomach. I didn't want to have to hurt anyone.
Please? I added kindly, for good measure. It didn't seem to help.
In return, the spymaster and his warrior friend bared their teeth at the spot I stood in, siphons bright as they readied their magic. I was about to unveil myself from mist before a trigger-happy sentry sent an arrow flying for my heart.
It didn't matter that my armor would have blocked it anyway. I was giddy at the opportunity to be dramatic. Dramatic is always the answer, I thought to myself in the split-second I had before the arrow hit me, the sharp tip cutting through the air at the speed of light.
I unsheathed the sword at my waist and twirled, uncloaking myself as I spun around and blocked the arrow at the last second with the blade of my sword. People gasped in surprise as I revealed myself. A dozen more arrows were released my way, and I waved my hand, a phantom wind of mine knocking them down as I sheathed my sword. I kept a finger on some spare daggers up my sleeve, in case anyone else dared to react.
"Are we done?" I asked impetuously, looking around the room for anyone to challenge me further. Feyre's mouth opened wide when my eyes met briefly met hers, and I gave her a slight look of acknowledgment.
"Who are you?" the High Lord of Day asked shock, a look of admiration on his face.
I put on my best prestigious, queenly voice and simply answered, "I' am your savior."
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A/N:
Wow! This chapter was really fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope I did a good job of balancing the dialogue between each High Lord and Lady in the meeting.
You also get the first look at my Original Character, and the "main" character of this book, Nyssa! You'll learn more about her next chapter, but it was fun to write a ~mystery~ POV.
Vote and comment to let me know if you like the book. Thank you for reading!
with love, lunar-loves