A Court of Stags and Night

Manon

The white-haired male had taken them to the bridge. With the amount of time that had passed, there was hardly anything left to add to the former clues. Whitethorn was irritated, of course, but they weren't miracle workers. He should have messaged them sooner.

Manon, along with Asterin and Sorrel, listened to each side of the story and looked over the Wyrdmarks Fenrys had managed to scribble down. Thankfully, he'd written them in the order they were placed. Several were missing, but perhaps they could eventually fill them in.

"Here's what's going to happen, Prince," she finally drawled out, running her iron nails over the paper. "I will send two of the Thirteen for Dorian. Chaol will go with them and serve in his place. Whatever Maeve did used a significant amount of power, and that was before the Lock was Forged. With it Forged, she should not have been able to cross between worlds, not without powerful help. I don't want to know who her help was, but we should expect problems in the future." She crossed over to his side. "You need more power. Maybe it was just Aelin's magic that enabled her to cross, since she's done it before. But we can't know that." He wanted to argue, but her iron teeth slipped free, snapping against each other loudly, and he wisely shut his mouth. "Therefore, I will head back to the Wastes with Sorrel and have a new mirror forged. Asterin will stay here with the rest of the Thirteen and help in any way you see fit."

"Very well, Your Majesty," the powerful male answered, dipping his head slightly.

It only made her want to gut him ever-so-slightly. She had little faith in this plan, but at this point, they had nothing else to lose. Aelin would be fighting her hardest to get back, too. And it was surprising she hadn't found a way to manage it. Unless Maeve had gotten to her first.

She would not go there. That bitch would meet a well-deserved end when the time came.

She hated to split the Thirteen, but she trusted no one more to get these jobs done. Every second stalled was time Aelin and the others could be hurt or even killed.

Each of them had a week to get their respective assignments done and return to Orynth. The mirror would require more time to complete, but she had other reasons for going back. Petrah would remain in charge until they returned. If they returned.

She was itching for a fight, despite the bloody war a year ago. She'd yet to have a proper fight since then and she was filled with blood lust.

Abraxos let out a mighty roar as they soared over the expansive grounds. Witches and wyverns alike stopped what they were doing to look up. Manon was still uncomfortable as their leader, but she held herself proudly nonetheless.

When they landed, she let out a string of curses at her mount, who huffed indignantly and gave her a look as if saying "you couldn't hurt me". She growled at him and he swiped his tail around to knock her away. She spat at him and stormed off.

She was surprised to see Ansel in the throne room when she stomped inside. At least it would save her a trip to the other side of the Wastes. Both looked up at her arrival and winced at the harsh look across her face.

"I take it it did not go well, my Queen," Petrah stated, bowing slightly.

Manon sighed forcefully, willing the anger away. "We have a lot of work to do."

"Where are the rest of the Thirteen?" Ansel asked.

"Off running important missions. Come, we have much to discuss."

They spent the rest of the day in heated discussion. Both had strongly disagreed with her plan and she was ready to kill them both and be done with it. By nightfall, she stormed out of the room before she did accidentally murder them.

Sorrel was quick to follow, dragging her to the training grounds. Manon tried to walk away, but her Third would not take no for an answer. And she was the first to draw blood, which infuriated the High Queen to no end.

It was a flurry of teeth and nails after that. She would not be disgraced as such. Filthy curses and threats of stripping Sorrel of her rank were spat as they twirled around each other. She had to admit, when they were finally heaving for breath, she did feel much better and appropriately thanked her Third.

Maybe if they were able to bring Aelin back, they could have a round two. She did owe the Queen for nearly killing her a couple years ago. It would only be fair. And one of the hardest fights she would ever have. That young Queen was skilled well beyond her years.

But it did help to learn from the best.

She would not take no for an answer, and the witches knew it. Petrah finally relented, but made her swear they would all return. Manon nearly raked her iron nails across the witch's face for commanding her, but managed to refrain, though she was sure they could all see the fury rolling underneath her skin.

"I need that mirror in Orynth by the end of next week. That gives you until sunset on the thirteenth day. The Queen has been gone long enough."

"I will see it done, Manon," Petrah swore. "Be careful."