DISCONTINUED A Court of Blood and Night Rewritten

21

I was so sore. After a brutal fighting match with Ansel, and then Ilias, I was bruised and bloody and ready to collapse. But Rhys and the others looked proud. I was not nearly as proud. I'd trained with Cassian for months, and I could barely beat two humans. What did that say about me?

At my scowl, Cassian said, "You're just out of practice, Feyre. You'll be back in no time." And then he'd taken his turn in the ring, Rowan stepping up to fight him. Not as bloody as Amren's fight, but twice as brutal. Rowan didn't use much magic against him, and I wondered why. The presence he had was too powerful for him to not possess a lot of magic. Maybe he was holding back. I couldn't fathom why.

Neither won that fight, but they didn't have to be pulled apart like Amren and Manon, either. They came out beaten, bruised, bloody, and with a higher respect for each other, if Rowan's short nod and Cassian's wolfish grin told me anything. They would be powerful allies, horrible enough to drive the world to its knees, if they wished. I was glad that we weren't enemies, here.

I'd noticed something in Rowan was slowly changing. He often looked toward the mountains during training when he should've been observing the fight. A steely determination would enter those green eyes, and his jaw would set. Sometimes, I could've sworn a phantom wind would pass by, blowing into nobody but him, and he'd turn his head just slightly, as if he could hear it whispering.

But then he'd straighten, the look gone, replaced by that silent, steely expression that he'd seemed to know like the back of his hand, and he'd turn his back on those mountains and watch the rest of the fight unflinchingly.

What had he left in those mountains? What was changing in him? Often, it seemed as if it caused him pain to be here, in Terrasen. He was a creature in a skin that, despite the strength and speed it granted, was too restricting. An animal pacing in its gilded cage.

Many of the Fae I'd seen around the castle seemed to be. The blonde-- not Aedion, but the quiet one-- was similar. It wasn't as obvious, but it was there. The same pacing, but for other reasons. I often caught him staring at Aedion instead of watching the fight, and if they didn't look too similar to not be anything but family, I might've thought he was pining.

But they weren't the only Fae in this place, I knew, and I'd seen hints of other things as well-- creatures like Manon, that ice-King, and a male with onyx eyes and hair to match, who seemed the wildest of them all.

Azriel had explained what they were when he noticed me staring at Aedion in puzzlement a few days before. "Half-human, half-Faerie," he'd told me. "Or, humans with enough Fae blood in their line to do some damage. That King, too, but his bloodline is more human than not."

I wondered just how powerful they could get. Aedion already had presence, and his loss against Lucien could easily be blamed on less experience.

Eventually, Rhys and I came to our senses and realized we hadn't been acting like enemies anymore. We stepped away from one another and let the rift come between us again. I hoped nobody had noticed.

When we were all stuck in the room again later that day, I noticed Nesta was looking oddly content after shadowing Lysandra and a younger, scarred girl named Evangeline while we trained. I wondered if maybe she would take up the job I'd left behind when I became High Lady.

Elain had gone with them, but seemed distracted instead of content. Every once in a while, as she stared off into space, her eyebrows would furrow, and she'd mutter something so quietly that I had no hope of hearing what she said, and then her expression would smooth out again.

Whatever she was working through was not meant for anyone's ears, it would seem. And I didn't miss Lucien tracking everything she did, watching her like this was the last time he'd ever see her. If she noticed, she said nothing.