Nameless ( A Court of Mist and Fury and Throne of Glass Crossover)

Buzzard

Yo! Grab yourself a drink and some popcorn cause this chapter is almost 6,000 words long. Enjoy! 

Aelin snarled, looking only at Feyre. The fire had returned in her eyes, "Winnow me", she commanded. 

Feyre swallowed and nodded. She felt the confused eyes of her court on her, Mor was the first to speak, "You have no right to demand that of us. We sheltered and fed Rowan." She reminded the assassin. 

Aelin's stance was threatening- her head held high, her shoulders casted back. Now Feyre knew, she could see the marks of Aelin being an assassin. The way she moved was fluid. Even in the state she was in. 

Aelin's gaze slid to Mor "Thank you for that, yet this doesn't involve you." She looked at Feyre- daring her to question her. "Feyre can winnow me." 

Mor marched forward, "She is our Highlady, we are her court, of course, it involves us." 

The assassin's lips tightened, "I don't care, let your Highlady speak."

Despite Mor's attempts Feyre had already decided to winnow Aelin. Even if she hadn't done all those favors Feyre still would do it. Because Rowan was Aelin's mate, and she could imagine the pain if Rhys was being whipped in the Spring Court. 

Plus, she liked Aelin. Her court was only seeing resentful Aelin, who had a mission and would do anything to achieve it. But in the Spring Court Feyre had seen playful, caring, and carefree Aelin. That Aelin was kind- in a wicked sort of way, that Feyre was sure would have captured the hearts of her court. 

"I'll take you, Aelin. And I'll help get Rowan out." 

Aelin's face softened, in relief Feyre assumed, and she replied, "You don't need to help get him. I can handle it." she rubbed the pale band on her wrist, "It's pointless to ruin your plan just to make mine a bit easier." 

Feyre reluctantly agreed. She took a step forward and grabbed Aelin's forearm, preparing to winnow them away. But a familiar frantic hand grappled for her wrist, twisting her to look at them. 

Rhysand surveyed her with wide, alarmed eyes, "No, no," he swallowed as if regaining himself, "You can take her, of course- if that's what you want- still you're not going alone." 

A grin she didn't care to suppress spread onto her lips- just him, Rhysand. Amazing. Feyre leaned forward on her toes, lightly kissing him on the lips. She felt his fingers relax around her wrist and his sigh against her skin as she pulled away.

Aelin coughed, and Feyre spun on her toes to her. Grinning at the unamused, unimpressed, and clearly pissy assassin. 

Rhysand's chest rumbled against her back as he chuckled behind her, nevertheless, he got to the point quickly. He probably had the most empathy for Aelin, "We'll winnow to the outside of the court." 

He turned to face the others, "Amren, Cassian go back home." He sighed, running a hand through his windswept hair "I should not have left it unprotected, Azriel, you go with them." 

Az stiffened, his eyes shooting to the back of Mor's blonde head. Rhys shifted to look at Mor, "I assume you want to come?" 

Mor crossed her arms over her chest, " I don't want to, but there is no way in hell I'm letting Feyre go alone."

Rhysand raised an eyebrow at her, "Um, excuse me? I'm coming." 

Mor stepped past him, glancing over her shoulder, "Please, you couldn't hurt a fly." 

Feyre grinned at Mor and patted Rhys on the chest, "She's right darling, it's best to let us handle it."  

Aelin was still rubbing her wrist impatiently next to Feyre yet said, her features dead serious, "Yes. Leave it to the professionals."