A Court of Smoke and Moonlight

Chapter Six

Aelin watched Feyre as she sat silently in the meeting room, her eyes wide and red with her hand clasped tightly around Rhysand's, while the other rested on her stomach. Though Aelin had no idea what had transpired between her and that jar, it must've been absolutely soul draining.

But, one thing was clear; the jar wouldn't help them defeat the Valg King. Everything they had gone through at Lunathion had been for nothing.

"So, now the jar is no use to us," Cassian concluded, slouching in his chair. "How are we going to kill this asshole of a Valg King?"

Rowan sighed, running a hand through his hair. Aelin looked down at the table, her mind whirling. Trying and attempting to formulate a plan. "I guess we will have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Well, we might have to cross it soon," Azriel said, his voice rough. "An attack has been launched on Velaris."

The tension was palpable around the table, the Night Court as tense and as stiff as a rock. Suddenly, Mor shoved her chair back from the table, shooting to her feet. "We need to go back and help," she blurted.

To everyone's surprise, Rhysand shook his head. It looked like every movement cost him. "The shields will hold them. We reinforced them since the last attack on the city."

"Are you kidding me?" Mor shouted, her cheeks flushed. "Why wouldn't we go back? Innocent people- more innocent people- could be killed!"

Rhysand stared at her, his gaze unflinching. Even Feyre was looking at him as though he was crazy. "I hate to say it, but I agree with his High Lordness over here," Aelin suddenly said, and everyone turned to look at her. "These Valg, Azriel; are they in the form of humans?'

He frowned slightly. "Yes."

"Then we can't kill them," she said simply. "The Valg are inhabiting bodies; what we need is a healer to banish the Valg from their hosts."

"Madja could-"

Aelin cut over Cassian. "No, we need a magical healer, not an herbal one." She glanced at Rowan. "We need Yrene."

Rowan shook his head, his brow furrowed. "We have no idea how to contact anyone back home; and even if we could, Yrene just had her child. We couldn't ask her to leave her family to come to another world and fight another war."

"I could heal him," Feyre suggested. "I inherited Thesan's healing power."

There was a moment of silence, then Aelin said, "then its settled."

"But how do we find the King?" Cassian asked.

Aelin grimaced. "I think he found us."

As by way of explanation, she pointed towards the balcony. There, in the fading sun, stood a person, their spine awkwardly straight.

"Who are you?" Rhysand demanded, getting to his feet. Feyre slowly began to approach the man, the others leaping out of their seats.

"Wait," Aelin said quietly. They all paused, looking at her curiously. Aelin flicked her wrist, and fire spread around the person in a circle. There was gasps, cries and yells as the bloodied, mutilated body was revealed.

His red hair was stained with black and red blood, his eyes gouged out. His jaw hung from his skull, dislocated, as his insides dangled from a gaping hole in his chest. He had been impaled on an iron pole, which left him in an upright position. It was brutal and violent and horrible and made Aelin want to shrivel up in a corner, but still she stood, strong and unmoving.

"Eris," Feyre breathed, her mouth covered by her hand. Azriel approached the corpse, his face stony and unfeeling as he grabbed a piece of paper nailed into his throat. He held it carefully between his fingers, avoiding the blood splatters.

"Queen of Terrasen," he readaloud, his eyes darkening. "It ends tonight, where it all began."