A Court of Glass and Flames [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter Eight

Feyre

I walked behind Rowan, trying, and failing, not to glare at his back. His silver hair glinted, and from the way people parted in front of us, I could tell there was a murderous gleam in his eyes.

Being mad wouldn't help my situation though. I longed to show myself as I truly was, with my swollen pregnant stomach. But showing myself as vulnerable would be very, very bad.

These people though, these Fae, seemed as though they would respect my pregnancy. I pushed aside these thoughts, and concentrated on what was happening. We had just entered the castle gates, and the guards saluted Rowan as we walked past. He was high ranking, then.

As we walked through the corridors, Rowan spoke. "There will be a meeting in three days. People from my court, and others. Be prepared." I nodded my thanks, and processed what he had just said.

"Court?" Was I simply in the Mortal Lands? Was I really that close to Rhys? I looked at Rowan, wanting answers.

"Well, court in the loosest of terms. Aedion, Fenrys, and myself are the only ones who stay here all the time. The rest are scattered throughout this continent, and others."

My hope fluttered, and vanished in my chest. "So this is not the Mortal Lands?" Rowan's eyes narrowed at my question, and I could see him running through a mental list of cities.

He shook his head. "I've never heard of that term before. Sorry." he added. I nodded soberly, as he stopped outside a door.

"This is your new room. It's next to Aedion's, so don't get any ideas about running away again. Understand?" I nod again, and walk inside.

I barely noticed the plush bed, beautiful tapestries, and lovely furniture. I collapsed on the bed, ready to curl up, and fall into a deep, exhausted slumber, when a sharp, sudden pain shot through me. I writhed on the bed, and screamed silently. I was dying. That was it.

I was dying.

oOo

Aelin

I stood in front of the wardrobe, trying to find a dress that looked good on me. There were only two hanging there. A plain blue one, and a black dress with a heavy train. Both equally ugly.

My door banged open, and I whirled to find Mor holding a bunch of clothes.

"Cauldron save me! Those are horrible! Let me help." Without another word, she sat me down, and started holding dresses up against me.

She held up another, and we both whispered, "That one." An hour later, and I was ready.

The cerulean dress hugged every curve, its gauzy skirts gathering at my feet. The sheer sleeves were billowy, and the low back showed my tattoo that had led me home.

Mor has painted my lips pink, dusted blush on my cheeks, and lengthened my lashes. I looked beautiful when I glanced in the mirror, and Mor grinned at me.

I turned to her. "Thank you." I genuinely meant it. I'd never looked better, even with Lysandra's help.

Mor chuckled. "Five hundred years, and you have learn the basic makeup tips. I wouldn't expect anyone not to know them." I stared at her. Five hundred years? Was she that old? Mor laughed even harder at my expression.

"Yes, I'm five hundred years old! Don't look at me like that, I feel like a grandma!" She cackled at my still shocked face, and I  doubled over at her infectious laughter. When the laughing eased, she grinned at me, gathered up the discarded clothes, and told me to meet her outside in twenty minutes.

oOo

Rhysand

I strode onto the roof, and found Mor and Celaena laughing together. Like I had guessed, they got along like a house on fire.

Mor looked up, and called me over. "Hurry up, it's cold." she moaned. I snorted, and lifted them both up. My wings snapped out, and we soared off to the House of Wind.

Azriel was already there. Shadows curled around him as we approached, no doubt telling him that we were coming. As if in answer, his head snapped up, and he watched me land.

Celaena stared at the shadows, and grinned delightedly. Surprise flickered in Azriel's eyes, but he smiled back warily. He then turned to me.

"Nesta and Elain are here already. Cass is flying Amren in now." As if in answer, huge wings appear, and Cassian set down a disgruntled looking Amren.

"Shield against the wind next time!" she hissed, as her tangled hair unknotted itself. Celaena watched warily, taking in Amren's still unnerving eyes, Cassian's bulk, and Azriel's cold face. Mor grinned at her.

"Meet the Court of Dreams."

oOo

Aelin

Amren has been there when I had stepped through the portal. Her silver eyes took me in, staring as though she could see through to me soul. I simply smirked at her. Rhysand and Azriel tensed, as if that small action could cause her to lunge at me. Amren seemed to be deciding wether she should grin, or snarl at me. I bowed dramatically.

"Celaena Sardothian at your service." I dared glance up at her, and she was grinning at me. Then she turned on her heel, and marched into the other room. Mor let out a breath, either of relief, or sadness that she hadn't done anything interesting.

"Come inside. I'm hungry." Cassian snorted, and Mor poked him in the ribs. A family. That's what there were. Not only a court. I followed them into the room, and the table was laden with all kinds of food. I nearly cried when I saw how much chocolate there was.

I headed straight to it, but the slightly bigger winged male, Cassian, stepped in front of me. "Going somewhere?" I glowered at him. I tried to step around him, but he blocked me again.
"Nice try. Now, I've heard from Rhys here, that you want to spar with me." I look him up and down.

"I suppose you will have to do." I drawled. Azriel, the shadowy one, choked on his wine. Cassian grinned. He opened his mouth to say something, but Rhysand screamed. Actually screamed. A scream of pain, and agony, and sorrow.

Wings ripped out of him, shadows lashed out. His power exploded and unfurled, shattering and destroying. I automatically shielded myself with my fire, not bothering to check if the others had such powers.

I waded through Rhys's tsunami of power, and reached his spasming form. "Rhysand! Rhys!" I sent out a blast of fire, lighting and soothing his darkness. I sent wave after wave, even as I felt a burnout lurking closer than ever. A headache formed at my temples, but— but Rhysand's mighty power was disappearing. Being sucked back into him. Mor struggled to reach her cousin, grabbing his hand as he writhed on the ground.

Azriel was pale, and the steely female from before, Nesta they had called her, was shaking slightly. The girl next to her was outright crying, her doe brown eyes wide, but distant. As if she was seeing something else.

Suddenly, all of the whipping Night vanished, extinguished. Rhys sat up shaking visibly, eyes lined with silver. "Feyre." he rasped.

The crying girl, lovely and beautiful, dried her eyes. Mor stood up. Her caramel eyes were wide.

"The baby. She was 8 months pregnant. Oh no. No, no, no, no." Mor was muttering under her breath, but I could hear every word. Rhysand stared in disbelief, and passed out. Cassian swore, and caught him before his head connected with the hardwood floor.

Mor turned to me. "What baby?" She turned pale, and said quietly,

"Feyre was 8 months pregnant when she went through that portal. Birth is extremely difficult for High Fae. And lesser faeries for that matter. She could die. We are all terrified for her."

oOo

Hey guys!
Thanks for all the votes!
Will Feyre die, or give birth?
And will Rhys die?