It was not the ashwood which left Rowan weak and useless or the searing pain of his wounds, but the complete darkness that drove him insane. With nothing to occupy his vision, his buzzing senses began to play games on him. First, it was just Aelin's broken figure, highlighted in shadows, kneeling in a corner. Shadows became moving figures, as he slowly drifted into what he could only hope was sleep. They gained details and colors until he could see the emptiness in those beautiful golden ringed eyes, till he saw the gold drain from her hair as her flame would die. When the last ember would accept darkness, her pupil swallowing the gold rings whole, the strings of those meddling gods, who had dared to decide her fate, were cut. And she would collapse.
That was when all his other senses would give into the game, and Rowan would be hit with a wave of touch, smell, and taste. The embers and jasmine- which he knew paled in comparison to the real thing, nothing, not his dreams, nothing could compare to that scent- would wash over him one last time. And his soul would hollow with the thud of her body on the featureless floor. No words, sounds, or movements existing in the world could communicate the pain spreading like a disease through his blood, flesh, and mind.
The pressure built behind Rowan's eyes and he closed them, were these the dreams his mate woke from screaming every night? Not the snap of the whips or the slicing knives but the flat darkness that could take any form?
The pounding of heavy footsteps cut through his dreams and the Prince's eyes shot open, his mind working quickly to separate the imagined pain from the real. But as he tracked the footsteps he had marked as prey from the day he first heard them, both were pushed away by simmering wrath.
When the door opened, Rowan let out a small hiss and squinted at the blur of figures. Once his eyes were able to stand the blinding light, he noted with satisfaction, that four guards accompanied the Highlord today. Their faces were uncovered, all having marks of the Spring Court's environment, tanned skin and freckles dotted their cheeks. They held long spears, one with a whip coiled at his side. Rowan didn't have time to squirm at the fact that the weapons were all meant for him before the Highlord bent to growl in his face, "Your fire wielding bitch got away. With my fiance."
Rowan's smile for once was not bred of him imagining Tamlin's body being slowly torn apart. Aelin had gotten away, all that was left was for him to escape and find her. And then he would never let her go again.
His grin faltered when his nose caught a whiff of flame hidden behind the Highlord's scent, Rowan inhaled deeply, hoping to catch more. Not because he craved her scent, it enraged him to have Tamlin's and Aelin's scent anywhere close to one another, but to decipher her condition. If- or rather- how injured she was. He smelled her crackling flame, probably what she used to fend off Tamlin, and then, pain, that the embers constantly wove around to conceal. But it was just as strong as the anger the flame was a product of. Pain, pain that the male before him had caused.
Rhysand marveled at the soft skin and muscle under his palms, everything about Feyre was new and awe-inspiring, and it was unbelievable that she was his. That she allowed him to hold her to his chest like this, or that she would kiss him with this much passion. If they had been separated a day longer, he would have told his court to fuck off for a few hours- or days. And he would have taken her right here, right now. Even so, Cassian and Azriel landing behind them, both carrying one of the females, was not what prevented him from doing so. It was the skinny girl sitting on a boulder a few meters away, Rowan's mate, Rhys assumed. After Cassian had reported Feyre was untouched and it seemed Aelin had done nothing wrong, he had still wanted to drown her in darkness. But when he had come flying as fast as possible, only looking at Feyre when they were finally in sight, he had still noticed how broken the girl was.
"her name is Aelin, and she was captured by someone would wished to use her as a weapon." Rowan had said the morning after they had first met. Whoever had done this to her was a monster, and he hoped they would pay. No one deserved this. Aelin looked like she had survived a hundred tortured lifetimes, layers of scars from seemingly every stage of life covered her frame. And that was just the things he could see, who knows the damages done to her mind and soul. His rage for her was gone, for Rowan as well.
He cradled Feyre to him, kissing her hair and forehead, smiling when he felt her grin against his chest. Rhysand could hear Az lower Mor to the ground and heard her rapidly approaching footsteps behind them. He growled as a fierce hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away from his mate. Before he could react Mor had taken up his place and was hugging Feyre tightly, pulling away only to survey for harm.
"I swear if that tool hurt you I'm going to demolish their entire court." she growled, looking over Feyre's red eyes.
Feyre laughed and it might as well been the most beautiful thing Rhys had ever heard, still, he surveyed Aelin, who had moved only to play with a dagger in her hand. He glanced back to find his two warriors also watching her closely while keeping one eye on Feyre and Mor. Amren, however, only had eyes for the golden haired female. She stalked over, Aelin's ears flinching at the sound of her footsteps, but she looked up when Amren stood directly in front of her. Amren flashed her a grin that would have dragons running, but when Aelin looked up there was no surprise or fear in those hollow eyes, only a harsh glint as she grinned back. And that may have been the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. Cassian's shudder behind him showed that he wasn't the only one who thought so.
"I hear you're dangerous." Amren said.
Aelin raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "You heard correctly, I hear your court can help me get Rowan back."
Amren smirked and shifted to her left foot, examining her nails, "Well I don't know about that…" she replied.
A growl ripped through the grasslands and even Amren's eyes widened, "Let me rephrase, your court will help me get Rowan back." her attention shot to Feyre, "And now you've all greeted each other, I have a favor to be repaid."
Before anyone could question how kidnapping was considered a favor, Feyre opened her mouth to explain, "Cela- Aelin, Aelin 'kidnapped' me, among other things, so I could get away from the spring court and I promised her we would get Rowan back and find a way to take her home."
"We don't know where Rowan is." Mor shot at Aelin.
Feyre's shoulders slumped as Rhys brushed against her, "They're holding him in the Spring Court."
"We can't just march into the Spring Court and free their prisoner without meaning we've decided to declare war on them." Az said, taking a step forward by Mor.
Aelin had now adjusted her knife so it was casually in the perfect position to stab Amren, who still stood in front of her, apparently entranced by her markings, "I'm not asking you to walk in there and get him out by brute force, if it comes to that I'll take care of it." She glanced over them, "What I need is transportation and information, but if you're willing and able to help, that would be fine."
"What are you suggesting?" Rhysand asked, sliding an arm around Feyre.
"I'll sneak in, assassinate some guards, free Rowan, and sneak out. But just in case, what is your policy on killing Tamlin?"
"What makes you think you can sneak into the Spring Court?" Cassian said with a laugh.
Aelin was doing her best to remain level headed but when she rubbed her wrists and small flames started dancing on her fingers it was clear she was becoming impatient, "I'm a trained assassin. Just get me to the Spring Court and I'll do the rest."
Feyre's eyes widened "You're an assassin?"
"Please just take me to the Spring Court." And for the first time, Aelin let her desperation show in her voice.
Azriel took a step forward, "We can fly you to the border but then you're on your own."
Aelin abruptly stood from the boulder, "Flying isn't fast enough," she turned to Feyre, "I risked my neck to get you out of place and if it wasn't for you, I would be there with Rowan right now."
Feyre pursed her lips, and Rhysand grimaced at the guilt in her eyes, he held her closer to him, lightly kissing her hair.
Aelin snarled, "Winnow me."
Rowan already had played through his plan ten times during Tamlin's taunting, so when the Highlords and his guards exited he waited for the sound of the door being bolted and locked. He shut his eyes not giving time for the thoughts of Aelin to wreck havoc on his mind. His fists clenched as he focused only on the magic compressed in his gut, struggling to make it show itself, to fight past the pulsing ashwood. Rowan narrowed in on the shackle on his right wrist, forcing his magic to stream through his muscles of his arm. Screaming pain pulsed from the shackles in protest but Rowan would not give in. Ice formed where the shackle met his skin and each crystal formed was like moving a mountain. Finally, the ice had grown to a point where it pushed against the metal bar, he kept feeding the ice until he was not sure if it was the metal or his bones groaning. It just mattered what broke first.
Pain, Rowan knew was not from the ashwood, shot down his arm, he may have imagined it but a sickening crack echoed through his bones. He snarled, one more stream of ice to his wrist, and the shackle snapped, the sound was his savior and his ice vanished back into him. He fell forward, one hand still suspended by a shackle, and his wrist barked in pain when he braced it on the cold floor. It was bleeding badly from the holes the ashwood had pierced, but already his magic flowed freer and he could feel energy streaming into him from where his hand was spread on the ground.
With the replenished strength Rowan was able to concentrate his magic on the chain connecting his other hand to the cement walls. He tugged his arm down, and it ashwood still drained him, but that was better than having another useless wrist.
Rowan twisted backward, examining the shackles binding his legs. They were connected to the ground by screws, his ice crept under the gaps and expanded, popping one free. He winced when he pulled the spiked band from his flesh. And repeated the process for the shackles on his ankles and other calf.
Rowan's legs shook as he stood, but he could feel them becoming stronger. He slammed into the door relishing in the sound of wood splintering. And found himself face to face with a blonde haired, wide eyed, Ianthe.
Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed, I'm planning on finishing this Fanfic before ACOWAR comes out, so if you have any suggestions for new stories, please share!
Anyway, so I've realized a big problem in my writing is my tone and pacing is all over the place. I aspire to be a novelist so I'm trying to make everything more detailed and descriptive… I'm worried that his chapter may have sounded somewhat pretentious, and I was debating editing it to try and solve it but I got to the point I just decided to post it. :/
That being said, have a great day and thank you so much for reading!