Crescent City: A Court of Thrones and Glass

Chapter Twenty: Aelin

A/N: Thank you @_Quest_Quest and @michelleobrein3 for voting!

Mor pushed through everyone as they gathered at the front door.
     "Viviane!" She exclaimed in horror at the blood leaking down the High Lady's temple. Rhys bent down to help her up and into the House, but Mor beat him to it. Cassian dragged a couch into the foyer, while Mor guided Viviane to sit. Feyre took a seat beside the High Lady of Winter and began healing her cuts and bruises. The Erileans and Hunt and Bryce took a step back, giving them some space.
"Are you alright?" Feyre asked, concerned. Viviane brought a hand to her head and waved the other in dismissal. She seemed to be in shock.
"Yes, yes I'm fine. It looks worse than it feels, but it doesn't matter. We need to go to Winter now," she said, her ice-blue eyes grew wide in rapidly increasing panic. "They're holding the Court hostage in the palace, we have to save them!" A small sob escaped her. She whipped her head around the foyer, like she was looking for someone, not even registering that the gathered group was not from Prythian. "They have Kallias...they have my mate! Rhysand please!" Tears were streaming down Viviane's face as she stood and grabbed Rhys' shoulders, begging. "I will give you anything. Anything at all, Rhysand, just save him.....please." Viviane sank to the floor, shoulders shaking with great, heaving sobs. Anger, sadness and empathy warred over Rhys' features as he kneeled in front of the fallen High Lady. Aelin wanted nothing more than to go over and comfort her, but she stayed standing beside Rowan, observing. Feyre put a hand on Viviane's shoulder as Rhys spoke.
"We will do everything we can to save Kallias and free your Court, Viviane. Not only because he is a fellow High Lord, but because he is a friend. The Night Court promises to aid Winter, but you need to tell us who 'they' are," the High Lord said. Viviane's crying subsided as she gathered her strength. Mor wrapped her arms around her friend and summoned a glass of water. Viviane gratefully took it and sat down beside Feyre on the couch in the middle of the foyer. Aelin and her court just kept watching the ordeal.
"What happened, Viviane?" Feyre asked gently. The High Lady of Winter took a deep breath.
"It started out as a normal day. Kallias and I were in the receiving room of the Palace, hosting a meeting with some of the more successful ice fishermen (A/N: fishermales?). Remember that missing Fae male I told Azriel? Well he was the best in the fishing business because of his extraordinary control of ice and water magic. The meeting was with his associates and rivals," Viviane explained, drying the tears from her eyes. "The meeting was almost over, then the missing male walked through the door. We were surprised, but glad to see him safe all the same. However something was wrong. He smelled wrong, otherworldly. He made his way towards Kallias and I, but I don't know how to explain it. I knew something was off. Suddenly, a striking male appeared beside the missing male. This new guy had bright, golden eyes and the blackest hair; he smelled wrong, like disease and rotting things....." she faltered, at a loss for words, her head hanging low in grief.
"Like death," Aelin whispered, but everyone heard. Aelin and her companions knew that awful scent all too well. Viviane's head snapped up as she met the Queen's eyes.
"Yes," she said, "like death. Then the missing male suddenly attacked Kallias, but I shielded him, hence the injury." Viviane gestured at her head. Mor gasped. "I was thrown across the hall and knocked out, but when I came to, I saw that Kallias and the rest of the Court was being held hostage. Trapped under some sort of containment spell." Viviane's voice broke as she continued her story. "No one could move, not a single guard, and the golden-eyed one was holding an obsidian blade to my mate's throat. Somehow, the spell hadn't reached me yet, so I seize my opportunity to winnow here. It was the first place I thought could help me." Viviane buried her head in her hands as she began to cry in earnest as Feyre rubbed soothing circles on her back. While his High Lady comforted Viviane, Rhysand seized control of the situation.
"Az, scout out Winter. I want to know everything there is to know about these assailants," he ordered. Azriel nodded and winnowed away. Rhys addressed the group. "Cass, prepare the Illyrians. I want them ready to fly at moment's notice . Mor, warn the rest of the Courts. Amren, Velaris is officially on lockdown. No one in or out. We don't know who else the summoner from the Prison has brought here. From the sounds of it, he's gaining allies. The rest of you, my study. Now." Rowan growled at the command and though Aelin certainly didn't appreciate being ordered around, she understood the gravity of the situation and admired Rhysand's control and delegation skills.
     In the study, Aelin could barely master her emotions. A Valg king was here. Here. No. It couldn't be. She raked her fingers through her hair as she explained her newly thought up theory to Viviane, Feyre, Rhys, Hunt, Bryce, Manon, Dorian, Lysandra and Rowan.
      "My guess is the Prison escapee is using that fisherman's body, which is how they escaped. Then, they summoned us by accident—" She gestured to the Erileans and Bryce and Hunt— "while trying to find the real prize, his companion. Did the golden-eyed male say anything, Viviane?" Aelin asked.
     "Yes." Aelin crossed her fingers, praying it she was wrong. "He introduced himself as Mantyx, liberator of our world. But who are you?" Viviane responded. Aelin didn't even hear the question. Her breaths were coming too fast. Not again. Not again, she thought. Aelin hated that she was right. The floor fell out from underneath her and it took everything in her power to not collapse to the ground. Rowan's strong arms snaked around her middle and he tugged her to his chest, not caring who was in the room.
     "So Mantyx is here. What does this mean?" Dorian asked, looking almost as pale as Viviane. Rowan responded.
     "It means we better get moving," the King answered gruffly.