A Court of Glass and Flames [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter Five

Feyre

The male's grip loosened, and I took that as a sign to step away.

"What?" His voice was tight, his eyes confused. I gathered that he was not informed of the female's fall through our world.

"Maybe we should discuss this elsewhere." I said pointedly. Even though there was barely anyone here.

The male took a step towards me, than seemed to change his mind. He started down the hall, and gestured at me to follow.

He led me down corridor after corridor. All were rather shabby and worn, but lovely nonetheless. We climbed up a set of stairs, onto a rooftop training area of some sort. Two people were there. The heavily muscled, blue eyed man, and a beautiful golden haired male with haunted eyes. They both turned to face us, nostrils flaring.

"Who's this?" The blue eyed one eyed me distrustfully. The other male winked at me, raking his eyes down my body. I bared my teeth ever so slightly. The male beside me tensed.

"This is Feyre. She's... not from around here." They both looked at me with newfound interest.

"Where are you from then?" Glancing around, I could tell they all wanted that question answered. I debated to give them the truth or not. I opted for the former.

"The Night Court." From their confused expressions, I could see that they had no idea where that was.

"Maybe we should call an official meeting," one suggested. The others nodded with agreement.

The one who had winked at me took my elbow. "Allow me to show you your room Feyre. I am Fenrys." He bowed deeply at the waist, kissing my hand.

"Fenrys." The silver haired one gave a small growl of disapproval.

"Rowan." His smirk was half hearted. From what I could see, something was between them. Neither were mad. Just... wary. As if he could sense my assessment, the tattooed one, Rowan,  glanced at me.

"We will summon you when the others have gathered. Until then, feel free to explore the city with an escort." An escort. It was like being back in the Spring Court.

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Aelin

"What happened?"
Voices swirled around me, and I groggily came to. I could see two faces peering down at me like I was a freak show. Mor, and the spymaster.

"What- what-" I tried to form words, but my mouth didn't work. The female seemed to be fighting the urge to scream.

"I'm not sure. We were walking down the corridor, and as you saw one of the paintings, you passed out." Her brows furrowed. "You said a name. Maeve. Who is that?"

Maeve. Even wherever here was, she still haunted me. Something must have shifted in my scent, because Mor looked at me with newfound sympathy. And I detested it.

"She is your worst nightmare, and you should be glad she isn't here She destroyed many kingdoms, and attempted to do the same to mine." I said flatly.

Mor winced. "She sounds positively wonderful. We should be glad that she can't get into Hybern's league." The male, Azriel, looked at me thoughtfully.

"Kingdom?" His soft voice cut through my thoughts.
"What."
"You said to destroy my kingdom. Are you Lady of a territory?" Damn. He was observant. Even I hadn't noticed myself slip up.

I tried to salvage the situation. "I help my queen. She needs something done, I do it."

His eyes narrow. "And whom may your queen be?"

"Queen Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius of Terrasen, the Firebringer."

"Quite a mouthful." Mor joked, attempting to lighten the mood. I smiled grimly.

"May I see the painting again?" Even if I passed out at the sight of it.

"Rhys took it down. He can show you." The High Lord. Whatever that was.

They led me down a hallway covered in art, to a stairwell. When we reached the bottom, Mor knocked on a door. It heaved open, and a female wearing a pale blue hooded robe opened the door.
"Clotho." Mor nodded her head at what I assumed was a priestess. She stepped to one side and started down a path that led to-
The walls were covered in books. Every last inch. They were everywhere. It was... amazing. Mor smirked at me. I decided I liked her. She was bold, unafraid, not letting anyone tell her what to do. Like myself.

We walked down three flights of stairs, until we came to a small nook. The beautiful male from earlier was there, wings nowhere to be seen. He turned, looking at us.

"Any news, cousin?" he said, addressing Mor. She shook her head. "But I did bring down this one," she said, inclining her head towards me, "as she wishes to speak with you."

With that, she spun around and marched out, Azriel on her heels. Rhys faces me. He looked me up and down, and I bit back the urge to snarl at him. He must have sensed my anger.

"Don't worry. I'm married and mated." His eyes become distant, hopeful and miserable at the same time. I nodded in appreciation.

"So. What do you wish to talk to me about?" I swallowed.
"The... painting. That I passed out because of. Can I see it?" Rhys's eyes narrowed, and out of nowhere, the painting appeared.

Upon closer inspection, the painting was not of Maeve. The woman in this had red hair, creamy skin, and the promise of pain in her dark eyes. It wasn't that her face was like Maeve's, but her expression. The smile that delighted in the pain of others, showing bone white teeth. The eyes that glitter cruelly. The essence of terror radiating from the painting was incredible.

"Who painted this? Who is it of?" I couldn't help the questions slipping out.

He answered the latter first. "It is of Amarantha. She imprisoned Prythian for five decades, torturing people as she pleased." I could only imagine how she had tortured him.
"As for who painted it... that would be Feyre Archeron. High Lady of the Night Court." From the title, and the pride in his eyes, I could tell this was his mate.

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Oooh!
Feyre and some of the new cadre
Aelin and half of the Inner Circle
They've swapped places!!!!