A Court of Smoke and Moonlight

Chapter Eight

"Are you sure this will work?" Feyre asked, concern clear in her voice.

Aelin quirked a brow. "Have a little faith, Archeon."

She had to admit, the High Lady looked quite the vision in a set of leather armor, with the double swords down her back and her hair in a long braid. Rhysand had traded in his black suit for the same scale-like armor. They had let her borrow a suit herself, and though it was nothing like her assassins suit, it would have to do. She quickly braided back her hair and looped it into a bun at the back of her neck.

Cassian, Azriel and Mor had winnowed immediately back to Velaris, wherever that was, to offer extra protection. Rhysand and Feyre, however, would be coming with Aelin and Rowan back to Terrasen. Back home.

Aelin pressed her hand onto the wound on her forearm, staunching the blood as she looked down at her handiwork. An exact replica of the arch of Wyrdmarks in the insane asylum Rhysand had locked her in.

She turned with a smug look on her face to Rhysand. "You aren't gonna mess this up for me this time, are you?"

Rhysand's lips twitched upwards. "I'll try not to."

Aelin bit back a smile, before she and Rowan began to chant a spell in the Old Language. Their voices grew, and then the portal began to glow with a bright green light. Aelin caught her breath and grasped Rowan's hand. His thumb brushed over the back of her palm, shooting tingles up her spine.

She took a deep breath, and she and her husband stepped through the portal.

~

Blinding, blazing light, and then they landed on a pile of rubble.

Aelin lost her footing a little, slipping on the bricks and concrete. Rowan steadied her with a hand around her waist. The deep smell of Oakwood forest hung in the air.

The wind whipped stray stands of hair around her face as Feyre and Rhysand fell out of the portal behind them. Feyre frowned a little. "Where are we?"

"Endovier," Aelin said quietly. "Well, what's left of it."

"But why?" Rowan asked, his eyes hard as he scanned the landscape. Though, his gaze softened as he glanced at her. Worried what she might do.

Aelin squeezed his hand, letting him know she was okay. "Because this is where Dorian took me to the castle; where I first met the King as Celaena. Where I began my journey. Where I ended it, too, when I forged the lock."

"Then where is this son of a bitch?" Rowan growled, drawing double axes.

Aelin placed a hand on his arm. "He's coming. I can feel it." Indeed, she could feel something stirring in her stomach; like a serpent awakening from a long nap. Something that told her inevitable doom was coming.

Rhysand observed the destroyed prison camp with a cool gaze. "What happened here?"

Aelin gazed down at the rocks and stones and kicked some away. A human skull, its flesh rotted off, stared back at her with deep holes of black. She swallowed tightly, covering the skull again. If it was the remains of a rebel, may they find everlasting peace. "The previous King of Adarlan had it destroyed. Killing rebels, innocent people, criminals and guards." She pursed her lips, looking up at the sky, anywhere from the death and destruction around her. "He did it to get to me."

Feyre slowly approached her side, a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Aelin shook her off. "Doesn't matter now. We just need to try and defeat this asshole and get you home safe." She paused, then suddenly asked, "what about the Cassian and the others back defending Velaris? How are they going to hold back the Valg without killing them?"

Feyre's eyes softened. "Thesan and his court are assisting them. With all the other healers we have."

Aelin nodded, fiddling with the laces of her vambraces. Her head jerked up as the stench of death and decay floated towards her on a deadly wind.

Rowan lowered his head towards hers, pressing a kiss to her temple. He must've scented it, too. He knew what was coming. And the traumatic memories with it.

"I love you," he whispered as a black cloud floated over the rubble, approaching them with deathly silence and slowness. "To whatever end."

Aelin lifted her chin. She pulled a sword from the sheath at her hip, readying herself.

Like Rowan said; to whatever end...

She would fight.