A Court of Stags and Night

Feyre

A/N: Hey guys...ummm...no real excuse for taking so long. I just haven't been able to pick up a pen and write for the past few weeks. And I've hated every moment of it. So, hopefully, whatever kept me from being able to write anything will disappear for a while, so I can actually be productive for you guys. 

Hang tight. The excitement has begun.

Had I heard her correctly? Was she insinuating what I thought she was?

"What the hell do you mean by that?" I snapped, stepping in front of my husband as if to protect him from the lies spilling out of her mouth. "If he said he didn't kill her, he didn't!"

She laughed, throwing her head back despite Tamlin's hold. "Lies, every bit of it."

I ordered Tamlin to pick her up and the moment she was on her feet, my palm swept across her jaw. The crack echoed across the room and I had to repress the smirk that threatened to show when I saw the handprint it left behind. Teach her to talk shit about my mate.

"You really shouldn't have done that," she huffed, shaking her head to move the hair from her face. "I could kill you for it."

"You wouldn't," I hissed, getting right in her face. "Not with that bargain we struck. It would kill you first."

"Bargain? If you want to call enslaving me a bargain." Despite the iron on her wrists and being in her human form, I could feel heat radiating off her skin.

"He's not a Valg!" I insisted, the anger rising faster. "And you agreed to the bargain. In fact, you asked me to help you!"

"Irresponsible mistake on my part," she growled lowly. "Get out of my way."

Oh no. She was not going to walk away from this. Bargain or no. I was done sidestepping answers. She'd give them to us now, or die.

"It's time you answered our questions, Your Majesty," I sneered. I'd play her game, and give away what little sensitive information I had on her.

Her eyes narrowed to cat-like slits. If she were to shift, I would likely have signed my death warrant.

But right now, I wasn't afraid of her.

"This filthy human cannot be royal," Beron raged, standing up from his chair to pace the floor. "It was bad enough trying to deal with the Queen's during the War, and now you're telling me this bitch is another one?!"

Aelin didn't say a word to defend herself. I wasn't sure whether that was a wise move on her part or not. But the tension in the room began to escalate quickly. The confusion and worry from the other High Lords making it near stifling.

"You're not speaking much, Rhysie," she taunted playfully. "Realizing I'm telling the truth?"

Water burst forward from my hand and slammed into her, racing down her throat and up her nose. She choked against it, sputtering for a breath of air. I quickly drew back my power. I hadn't meant for it to break free.

"My mother was Illyrian," he finally spoke. Tightly. "And she was killed for it. Along with my sister."

"You smell like her," she continued. "Blood does not lie. I've spent enough time around it to know. Besides, your eyes and hair were enough of a giveaway."

"From my father," he answered sharply.

"That's enough, Aelin," I warned. Or else it wouldn't be my water that attacked next.

"Wise decision on her part to hide you amongst the Illyrians. Kept your scent from being recognized. I'm surprised she didn't groom you from birth, but how would she explain you to her sisters, hmmm? Her husband?" Aelin was enjoying this. I could practically feel her mind working. And it pissed me off. Not to mention she'd physically hurt both my sisters, Cassian, and Azriel. "No wonder she chose you to kill her," she seethed. "She wanted to see what her son had become. And if his bitch of a mate was willing to back him up."