A Court of Stags and Night

Aelin

They hadn't yet placed what was off about the male, but I would never forget the scent, the feeling of wrongness of it. Wyrdstone. Just the thought of it made me bristle and my magic recoil.

That wasn't what confused me about the whole situation. While I'd discovered the ring on his finger, which I would dispose of shortly, I could not scent Valg on him, which always seemed to be the case when that damnable metal was involved. Something else was at play here and it irked me not to be a step ahead.

But that's how it was with the Valg Queen. She'd convinced Mala and Mab they were sisters and she had vastly outlived them. She had even tricked those that lived with her for centuries. Even Rowan and the rest of the cadre. And I knew the game would have changed, even if I were still her goal. If my magic had grown, hers would have, too.

She would not be making mistakes a second time. I would have to stay on my guard every moment, especially now with Elena in the picture. Getting home was not my priority anymore.

The tattoos Rowan inked down my back burned against my skin. I hadn't forgotten about them. One of them had gotten me home last time, but even then, I would need most of my power to open a portal powerful enough to get us home. And I was not about to risk it and fall right into her hands. I wouldn't survive a second time.

The game was set. Now it was time to play.

"You mentioned an Ianthe, was it?" I inquired pensively. "Who exactly, is she?"

Jaws tensed and fists clenched. A sure sign that whoever it was, was not well-liked by these in this room. Another puzzle piece to fit together.

"She's a priestess," Feyre began. I scoffed. I already hated the bitch. "Our history is complicated, but basically she's a traitor and a lying hypocrite."

I raised my eyebrows curiously. "Does she happen to be blonde, wear a blue cloak, and have an annoying voice to boot?"

"Yes," Feyre replied, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"You're right. She is a bitch," I grumbled, hissing through my teeth. A fucking bitch.

"How do you know her?" Lucien snarled.

I wasn't so sure of his intentions, but he seemed to dislike her as much as they did. "She let me out."

"What do you mean, she let you out?" He leaned forward in his chair, his hands griping the armrests tightly.

"She knocked out the guards, or killed them, I didn't check," I shrugged, leaning back against the sofa. "Then she tossed all my stuff at me and even went so far as to put everything in its proper place before dragging me from the cell, even though I did not wish to go. She took me over to the tree line and told me to go South towards the Human Lands. I, of course, did the opposite."

The anger in his eyes intensified when I said she forced me to run. But they settled slightly when I told them I ran in the opposite direction.

"I did not believe her when she cried that you attacked her and nearly killed her. As a human, that would have been impossible, even for a fae as useless as she is. But, I can clearly see you are not, in fact, human."

"Stating the obvious, are we Lucien?" I grinned teasingly.

His cheeks ever-so-slightly turned pink in embarrassment. He was quick to avert his eyes, though his cheeks grew an even deeper shade of pink as they landed on Feyre's sister, Elain. She lowered her gaze. Nesta shifted to block her from his view. Even Azriel tensed from his spot in the shadows.

Interesting.

Lucien and Elain were clearly mates, though it seemed the bond had yet to be accepted. Where the spymaster stood in the mix, I was unsure, but I was not about to step in the middle of a lovers spat. As much as I loved drama, that was not the point of this chat.