A Court of Stags and Night

Morrigan

A/N: Hello! Long time no chapter. But, here we are. There might still be a break between this one and the next, but it will definitely be nowhere near as long as this one. Just need to get my ideas straightened out once more.

Happy reading!

Mor wasn't sure who she was more concerned for. Feyre, her High Lady, or Aelin, the young queen.

The fact that Aelin had yet to shift into her fae form gave Feyre the advantage. And she knew Feyre did not wish to hurt her unless she had no other choice. The blonde had lost a friend, someone to help tether her to reality. To keep her calm in this wild world.

Mor flinched as Aelin's hand tightened on Feyre's throat. She itched to pull them apart and protect her High Lady, but she couldn't move. Not while Evangeline clung so tightly to her. Cauldron, she'd watched her mother die in front of her.

She watched as Feyre's hands flew up to grip Aelin's, as if that could stop her from choking her to death. "Aelin, stop," she gasped raggedly. Exactly how tight was she holding her? "Don't do this. I don't want to hurt you."

The brown-eyed fae noticed the twitch in the Queen's jaw and immediately recognized the mistake. Aelin disliked pity, and here she was throwing it at her face.

Aelin's wrist twisted, flinging Feyre down onto her back. The moment she made contact with the floor, a burst of darkness released, throwing Aelin from her.

The blonde rolled to her feet and swiped at her nose with a chuckle. "First blood, but not the last."

The golden ring around her turquoise eyes shone wickedly, all traces of mirth gone. The woman that stood in front of them was utterly terrifying. She was all steel and sharp edges, much like an assassin Mor had had the pleasure of killing years ago.

The thought did not sit well with the third in command.

She suddenly found Elena in her arms as Rhys went to check on his mate. The child wriggled unhappily in her arms and let out a loud shriek. She fought the urge to wither under the Queen's intense stare. But she began to realize the new mother had written her off limits. No mater what happened, her daughter and Evangeline would not be caught in the crossfire.

If everyone else were to perish here, they would survive.

So, they had to keep this contained, and stop things from escalating any further.

"Aelin, that is enough," Rhys ordered, allowing some of his Court of Nigtmares persona to slip through.

Her eyes were like liquid wildfire as she turned her gaze to him. Mor grew increasingly more afraid for him, despite the fact she was still human. This woman did not fear death.

To her surprise, the fight in her eyes dimmed and she held her hands up, palms forward. A sign of surrender. Something was not adding up. There was too much hatred and anger simmering under the surface for her to have given in so easily.

She could feel the uneasiness pulsate from Rhys as he helped Feyre to her feet.

Mor didn't have the time to shout a warning. She had no choice but to watch and extremely sharp dagger slide across Elain's left cheek before impaling itself in the wall behind Tarquin.

She wasn't sure if that had been her original target, or if she'd missed her intended one, but either way, she'd made a fatal mistake.

Nesta slammed into her and they went rolling in a flurry of fists and feet. While the eldest sister had begun training with Cassian and the rest of them, there was no doubt Aelin was the stronger fighter, despite having the advantage of fae strength. Eventually, Nesta was able to pin her to the floor.