Thrones of Fire and Darkness

Chapter 11

Okay. So I recently checked my feed and saw I have??? 1.1K reads??? 

WHAT?? THE ACTUAL FUCK???

So I decided to revisit this lil fic and I figured I might as well continue as best I can. Also, sorry, I switched to writing in present tense... 

Here this is, I guess. Picking up where we left off...

*Feyre's POV*

What. The fuck. Just happened. 

The last few moments replay through my head.

Evangeline was talking to the others, reiterating the events of the last three weeks. Then she left... I vaguely remember Lysandra saying something to her fleeing figure, then a pillar of flame erupting. I'd be worried about Beron's men seeing, if I wasn't so worried about everything else. About Mor. 

Mor. Fuck, Mor. 

I scan my surroundings for my friend, shaking myself out of the dumb stupor I'd somehow fallen into after the events of the last few minutes. Movement catches my eye, and I glance to my left to see Mor collapse. My friend is on the ground, shaking almost imperceptibly. 

Mor retches, once. Twice. Heaving, she glances up at me - brown eyes filled with confusion and pain.

I drop to my knees in the dirt, reaching for her, to comfort and question, a million words on my lips that I couldn't quite voice just yet. She dry-heaves again, bowing forward, shaking - in fear or in disgust, I couldn't quite tell. 

Aelin comes striding over, fury burning in her eyes - for a moment, I take in her unsheathed sword and stiffen, but she quickly replaces it into its sheath and kneels next to me. 

Lysandra is sitting across from us, observing the encounter with mild trepidation and no small amount of worry. She's shifting in her seat, obviously itching to either come to us or run after Evangeline, but she settles for merely releasing a heavy sigh, glaring at her fingers. 

Mor sits up, takes a shuddering breath in. Aelin stands smoothly, brushing the dirt and fallen leaves from her lap, and says briskly, "Well. That's that." Mor looks up, and my heart breaks for my friend - she looks utterly lost. "What- what just happened."

Aelin looks between the two of us and eventually sighs. "Not right now. Can we get somewhere safer first?" 

A flicker of annoyance rises through me at the obvious dismissal, at the offhanded nature of the statement, but she's right. Looking at Mor, I assess my friend's state: she's paler than usual, but she slowly seems to be sinking back into herself. Shaking herself a little bit, she nods at me. "That... would most likely be wise. If what you say about Beron and the Valg is true... I don't want to be sitting ducks," I say. Mor adds darkly, "After that especially." 

Lysandra and Aelin exchange a glance, seemingly engaged in a battle of wills. Aelin wins, Lysandra eventually breaking eye contact and heaving a resigned sigh. Aelin strides off, brushing a comforting hand over the dark-haired female's shoulder as she passes, and Lysandra quietly explains, "She's going to get Evangeline." I nod. 

Mor and I silently get to our feet and begin packing up our things. "We might as well winnow back..." I start. Mor completes my thought. "But Rhys and the others..."

We both take a second to imagine Rhys' and the others' reactions to us showing up out of nowhere with three unknown females, news of a possibly fatal war, and a lot of holes in our information. "Yeah, no," I say needlessly. Mor nods. "We could probably go to the cabin? Hole up in there a couple of days until we get our facts straight and figure out what we're going to do." I agree, "That might be the best course of action."