It finally happened. After all these years, Amren immediately felt the tear through her chest into another world. She felt the power slicing through the ancient stone she'd forgotten the name of and straight into her being. In an instant her eyes flashed and then she was somewhere else.
In a body that was not her body.
There was an ocean around here, melee and chaos on her ship. She could feel the beasts beneath the water at war and the power in the bodies that surrounded her. The power in the new flesh she'd taken on. Gods, this power. It was endless fire and with Amren in control it blazed from wildfire into her own moonfire.
This wasn't exactly the freedom she'd longed for, but it would do. She laughed to herself, feeling the body's owner push against her hopelessly. The sun was so hot here, the waters nearly tropical. The rush of the freshness, the power, was nearly overwhelming.
Her body's hand was outstretched, waiting to explode with her raging moonfire and the desire for blood was a siren's call Amren couldn't quite refuse in this world. She heard the sounds of innocents behind her and turned.
The moonfire burned its release and Amren noted the body flinging itself in front of her. Meaningless, she thought, but then the body reacted.
Rowan, she heard from within.
Amren growled. She knew now, even as power flew from her fingertips, her time in this body was now limited. She'd known of this feeling - these kinds of bonds. This was inescapable, even for her. This body would not hurt that male.
She felt the host's power build, taking back her body with the fuel of the legendary bond, and Amren cursed this girl.
Cursed her until she realized who she was.
Oh, Mala.
Instantly she was back in her Prythian body, this tart little thing that had grown homey. It might have been strong, stronger with magic than any other she'd known on this continent, but there was something about being in that body - Mala's body.
Mala, Lady of Light, Learning, and Fire.
She knew the host body wasn't the original Mala, but it was Mala all the same. Quite a young Mala… A Mala that might still be learning herself, still need allies in her battles…
Amren thought of Feyre at the Spring Court, on her own in enemy territory. Practically still in Hybern's clutches. The king possessed the Cauldron. He'd turned Feyre's sisters into fae. He'd destroyed Cassian's wings. He'd nearly killed Azriel. He'd immobilized the strongest High Lord in the history of Prythian…
She threw out her senses, feeling the power levels of all those around her, searching for Rhysand and the rest of the court. There was a possibility they might agree to her plan, but not to the toll that performing it might take on herself. No one who could stop her was near, but she would leave that sense open as long as she could.
Her apartment was messy around her, books on counters and papers on the floor. She ran to her main room and started shoving furniture against the walls. She flipped her coffee table, tossing it aside and yanked her rug off into a corner. She didn't stop until she had enough space.
Making sure the others were still far off, she started her chant letting the glamour of her eyes fall until they lit the room around her. She reached for a knife from its block in her kitchen before marching back onto the marble of her living room with bare feet.
Still only in the first verse, she drew the knife over her wrist and let the blood begin to spill, red at first, then gold. It painted the floor around her feet and she began to draw. The ancient marks weren't as foreign as she'd led everyone to believe, but they were more powerful than they could have ever grasped so she kept that to herself. Her symbols weaved and danced together and her circle formed piece by piece, outlining the entire room.
Her tangible body had begun shaking after she'd passed the halfway point, her voice sickly splitting in two. Golden blood still melted from her wrist and began to spill from her nose. A potent wind lifted through her hair and her eyes felt like fire.
The room grew dark, shadows swimming through the stormy winds, lightning of massive powers in all shapes and colors appeared. Faintly, she felt Rhysand assembling the others to come to her aid. Rhysand could feel the evil magic.
And just as she felt the presence of her friends, her chanting ceased and her body heaved in the weight of what she'd done. Light exploded from the shadows of her golden blood circle and a small army of faeries appeared.
Amren collapsed.
Aelin was leaning heavily on Rowan, still in his embrace, when the world turned upside down. Of course the sweet relief of victory wouldn't even last a minute before a new enemy had found them. The sun was gone, replacing it was a cramped ceiling with starlight shining from the windows. She stood on fine marble floors covered in…
Wyrdmarks.
And was that… golden blood?
She pulled back from Rowan, but couldn't get too far from his steel grip as he assessed the threat, refusing to separate from her until he felt it was safe. Around her were the others; Aedion and Dorian were stepping closer together with Lysandra not far off. Gavriel and Fenrys had found Lorcan who'd managed to become apart of this somehow. Manon was the first to move, walking straight and steady up to a small girl with dark hair and dark eyes at Lorcan's side.
At this point the threat that Manon posed was undecided, but judging from Lorcan's snarl, he wouldn't let the witch harm the girl with him. For a second, Aelin saw tears well in the young girl's eyes before her attention was drawn elsewhere.
It seemed they were in an apartment, of all places, and outside the blood circle that surrounded her court were faeries she'd never seen before gathered in a Gods-damned kitchen. One of them was on the ground, covered in golden blood and not responding to the male tending to her. Standing between them and us were two faeries, a male and female.
The female was beautiful, even with her lip curling at the group. Her long, blonde hair draped over her shoulders in dramatic curls reminiscent of Lysandra's and she wore a dramatic gown of deep blue. The male next to her was a stark contrast in battle leathers. He was as tall as Rowan and ribbons of shadows swam in his presence. Dark magic.
"Care to explain?" To all of their surprise, Dorian was the first one to step toward them stopping as soon as his feet touched gold blood. His tone was practiced, light and diplomatic. He'd been trained for this - to be a king.
The shadowy male stared him down. All the fae in the room were stiff, the air suffocating.
What are they waiting for? Aelin thought.
Rowan answered. Their leader.
Sure enough, the male tending to their downed friend called out with a wave of his hand and the female took his place with the wounded faerie, before he stood and stepped past the first male, walking right up to Dorian.
He was a glorious faerie, possibly the most beautiful fae Aelin had ever seen. His hair was black as raven's feathers and his eyes were so deep blue, they became violet. Instead of shadows, tendrils of star-kissed night flowed in his wake. He was a being made of the night itself.
"I apologize," he said, looking to Dorian. "My second seems to have summoned you all." He cocked his head as if interdimensional mistakes happened to him every day. Sliding his hands in his pockets, he surveyed the gathered faeries. His eyes met Rowan's. Aelin growled and the male grinned. "I will also apologize that I cannot return you to wherever you came from until she awakens. None of us know her magic."
"Bullshit," Aedion said, stepping to Aelin's free side across from Rowan.
The night fae's grin grew. "No, actually it's true," he mused. "You are all welcome to stay until then. Judging by your attire, you weren't exactly expecting her summons, I presume."
"Not quite," Dorian said.
"Ah, well. My name is Rhysand," he purred. "And I am the High Lord of the Night Court. Welcome to my lands." He extended a hand.
Though Dorian took it, not a fae in the room dared breathe. This Rhysand was too calm, too welcoming. Every alarm bell in her screamed this was a trap.
"Dorian Havilliard, King of Adarlan." Aelin blinked, realizing it was the first time he'd referred to himself as such after the destruction of the glass castle.
Surely these Night Court fae weren't planning an attack on them - it was three against ten. Even if just half of them fought they should be able to overpower them. Still, Aelin had been caught in many traps in her life. She scanned for the exits she knew Rowan would have already found.
"There is no trap here," Rhysand said.
Aelin's glared at the male and Rowan stiffened. Surely he was just trying to ease the tension. Surely he couldn't have read her thoughts. Lorcan was growing restless off to her left with Gavriel and Fenrys looking to him. But gone was their bloodlust, demanded of them by Maeve, and in its place stood respect. Like they were looking to their general once more. What if Maeve's blood oaths didn't carry through to this world?
"Where are we?" she asked and for the first time his eyes, like endless pools of the night sky landed on hers.
He pulled a hand from his pocket and waved it as he spoke. "The Night Court."
"Never heard of it," Fenrys challenged.
"Well, it's a great big world isn't it?" Rhysand replied. Gavriel straightened, ready to step to the cocky fae.
"Why, might I ask," Dorian said, "are you offering shelter to ten strange fae, all worn in battle clothes obviously fresh from a fight? Do you trust us that much or do you believe yourself strong enough to handle us all?"
He looked back to Aelin. She stood her ground, but hoped this wouldn't come to conflict. She didn't have enough magic left after the slaughter in retrieving the mirror. "It is not you whom I trust, but my court. Amren is my second. She would not have cast such a large and dangerous summons without notifying me unless it was so necessary she was willing to give her life for it."
Aelin looked to the small body of the fae on the floor behind him, hoping, she realized, to see her chest rise and fall. A glance at the scar on her hand was enough to lead her to believe him. Rowen gave her a swift squeeze at her side.
We could take them. They are vastly outmatched. Even with just Dorian, you, and I we could beat them, let alone if Lorcan and the others help.
For some reason, Aelin wasn't so sure. No. We have the advantage in numbers, but we are drained of magic. Let's bide our time with them. I want to know why she brought us here.
He didn't respond.
"Unless you can all fly, we'll have to winnow to my castle…" the dark lord seemed to muse to himself.
The blonde female gave him a cursory look.
"Winnow?" Dorian asked.
The female at Rhysand's side suddenly disappeared, a dark screech all that was left behind. Dorian turned to look at Aedion when she reappeared in his face. Manon took a step from Lorcan and his girl.
"This is winnowing," she said. "We can bring you all with us, but we will probably have to make multiple trips."
Out of the corner of his eye, Dorian looked over to Aelin and Rowan. Aelin watched the silver haired fae at her side give the young king a quick nod and when she turned back Rhysand was watching.
"Okay," Dorian agreed. "Let's go then.