A Court of Scars and Steel (Completed)

Chapter 19 - Feyre

I can see the pain hidden behind Aelin's facade. She realized something, and it's killing her slowly.

"On that note, perhaps we should break for the day and pick up tomorrow?" Thesan suggests. "I think we all need to digest that information."

Everyone nods. Thesan kindly leads us all to our rooms. The Night Court's rooms are in a main center area with four bedrooms branching off.

One for Rhys and me, one for Aelin and Mor, and one for Cassian and Azriel. And one for Amren. She gets one all to herself. That's fine.

Aelin, though, doesn't bother looking around before sinking into a couch in the main area. It's unlike her to not be cautious.

I sit down next to her, Rhys on my other side. Everyone else chooses places around us. Without even a glance I feel Rhys snap shields around us.

"What's wrong?" I ask quietly. She glances up from her curled up position.

"Orcus's wife," she says shakily. "Do you recognize her?" I did vaguely. But from where?

Then the answer snaps into place, and I recoil, dread lining my gut. "Maeve," I breathe, and my court tenses up.

Aelin nods. "I managed to cut her once. I thought her blood was black originally, but I blinked and it turned red, so I assumed I was hallucinating," she winces. "I should have trusted my instinct."

I grimaced. "We all need to sometimes." Aelin nods again.

"What now?"

Rhysand looks up. "We convince them to fight against the Valg. We start with this world, but hopefully we can convince them to aid in your world too, though it's unlikely."

Aelin smiles. "Should I go as Fae tomorrow?"

I laugh. "As interesting as that would prove, it would honestly just complicate things and possibly deter them from an alliance altogether."

My mate grins. "I want to see Aelin set Beron's hair on fire."

I choke. "That would be hilarious. Certainly would knock him off his high horse."

Everyone laughs. Aelin smiles at me. "Thank you," she says simply.

Nobody asks for what, because we all know. That feeling where everything seems hopeless and lost. The willingness to brood and only do that.

Aelin moves to get up, but a polite-ish knocking on the door interrupts her.

Rhysand winces. "It's Tamlin." Fury quickly hardens the Night Court's faces, including Aelin's. "Feyre, you don't have to.."

"I'm staying." I say firmly. "He's my problem as much as yours, and my demon to face."

Saying that causes me to picture Tamlin as a demon, a sight I share with my mate through our bond.

Magnificent, he purrs. I need you to paint that for me so I can have it hung in our living room.

Prick, I reply, per usual. Aelin says casually, seated again on the sofa, "Come in."

Tamlin enters, face set in a cold, hard snarl, Lucien trailing a few feet behind.

"So you think you can steal my wife?" he growls. One hand grabs my arm, forcing me to my feet. "Come, Feyre, we're going home."

I shove away from Tamlin, but the bastard won't let me go and starts dragging me towards the door. "My home is here." I growl. "My family is here. Let me go!"