A Court of Flame & Shadow - Eris x OC

The Sacred Mountain

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. To his credit, Rhys kept his promises, and his information had all been accurate, courtesy of Azriel. Amarantha was already in Prythian, cozying up to Nostrus in the Summer Court, sending letters and making promises to the other High Lords – talk of trade, of alliances, of how she's changed after Clythia's death. Each update from Azriel reminded Vel that, just like Beron, Amarantha was not hers to kill. She wasn't sure if she would be able to either way. The unfamiliar magic she wielded in visions left Vel uneasy, forcing her to reluctantly let events unfold.

Vel couldn't sleep anymore, she was certain it would not be so easy to kick Amarantha out of her mind a second time. Once a week she would cook up a mixture of Valerian root, lemon balm, and Ebonshade extract. Ebonshade was mainly used in poisons, but in a small enough dose and together with the other herbs, it knocked her out into a dreamless sleep akin to death. She'd wake up confused and with a headache, sometimes after a few hours, sometimes whole days later. It was difficult to get the Ebonshade concentration just right, as each flower was in itself unique. Even so, it was better than running the risk of accidentally falling asleep and receiving an unwanted visitor in her body.

Cassian was still training her once or twice a week, but with an unknown threat on the horizon, he was busy running drills and having meetings with his commanders. Which meant Vel had a lot of time to kill, without being able to risk leaving the Middle. So she trained by herself with sword and bow. She gardened and foraged and replenished her stock of tinctures. She made a few extra doses of the gargoyle's cure and, when Glynn came to pick them up, she was happy to see a non-Illyrian face.

At night she watched the stars and read by the firelight, occasionally stirring the cauldron outside. There was no more singing. The small place in her heart filled with light and music was empty but she told herself she was just being cautious.

Fifty years crawled by, agonizingly slow. The friendly faces shadowing her doorstep getting fewer and further in between.

At some point, Amarantha had started holding court from the Sacred Mountain, only a little over an hour's flight from her cabin. When she summoned all seven High Lords to a ball in her honor, Vel knew it was time. Rhys came to the same realization himself because he arrived at her door without needing an invitation. She handed him a mixture she'd prepared – Ebonshade and Wolfsbane. A few drops of the odorless liquid would kill a High Fae in seconds. She'd asked him to wait until her signal. He'd be close enough that they could communicate with half a thought. There was one last thing she had to do.

Vel wasted no time as she weaved new wards and tied them to an unassuming anchor. A comprehensive guide to herbs and their uses - a thick tome whose leather bindings were peeling, just one of the hundreds of books in her library. She was certain Amarantha could only control her body, not her mind nor her powers.

Vel laid down her head and the magic locked in place, restraining her to the bed. She wasn't sure what to expect after fifty years of knocking herself out with increasingly stronger doses of poison but sleep came quickly and it was like catching up with an old friend as years worth of visions unfolded before her.

As dusk draped over the Middle, Vel jolted awake, gasping for breath as if surfacing from deep waters. The future had felt like a lifetime. Disoriented, she tore through the wards frantically. Amarantha had been too busy scheming to notice her prying. As she tumbled down the stairs three steps at a time, she hoped and prayed to whoever would listen to her that she was not too late. She barreled through the front door, looking west, shooting her mind towards the Sacred Mountain like an arrow.

Her mind slammed into Rhysand's so hard that, for a moment, she saw through his eyes. The High Lords were gathered around a table laden with untouched food and overflowing wine cups. Their courts were merrily dancing, taking part in the revelry. Rhys winced at the force of her incursion.