Yo! Grab yourself a drink and some popcorn cause this chapter is almost 6,000 words long. Enjoy!
Aelin snarled, looking only at Feyre. The fire had returned in her eyes, "Winnow me", she commanded.
Feyre swallowed and nodded. She felt the confused eyes of her court on her, Mor was the first to speak, "You have no right to demand that of us. We sheltered and fed Rowan." She reminded the assassin.
Aelin's stance was threatening- her head held high, her shoulders casted back. Now Feyre knew, she could see the marks of Aelin being an assassin. The way she moved was fluid. Even in the state she was in.
Aelin's gaze slid to Mor "Thank you for that, yet this doesn't involve you." She looked at Feyre- daring her to question her. "Feyre can winnow me."
Mor marched forward, "She is our Highlady, we are her court, of course, it involves us."
The assassin's lips tightened, "I don't care, let your Highlady speak."
Despite Mor's attempts Feyre had already decided to winnow Aelin. Even if she hadn't done all those favors Feyre still would do it. Because Rowan was Aelin's mate, and she could imagine the pain if Rhys was being whipped in the Spring Court.
Plus, she liked Aelin. Her court was only seeing resentful Aelin, who had a mission and would do anything to achieve it. But in the Spring Court Feyre had seen playful, caring, and carefree Aelin. That Aelin was kind- in a wicked sort of way, that Feyre was sure would have captured the hearts of her court.
"I'll take you, Aelin. And I'll help get Rowan out."
Aelin's face softened, in relief Feyre assumed, and she replied, "You don't need to help get him. I can handle it." she rubbed the pale band on her wrist, "It's pointless to ruin your plan just to make mine a bit easier."
Feyre reluctantly agreed. She took a step forward and grabbed Aelin's forearm, preparing to winnow them away. But a familiar frantic hand grappled for her wrist, twisting her to look at them.
Rhysand surveyed her with wide, alarmed eyes, "No, no," he swallowed as if regaining himself, "You can take her, of course- if that's what you want- still you're not going alone."
A grin she didn't care to suppress spread onto her lips- just him, Rhysand. Amazing. Feyre leaned forward on her toes, lightly kissing him on the lips. She felt his fingers relax around her wrist and his sigh against her skin as she pulled away.
Aelin coughed, and Feyre spun on her toes to her. Grinning at the unamused, unimpressed, and clearly pissy assassin.
Rhysand's chest rumbled against her back as he chuckled behind her, nevertheless, he got to the point quickly. He probably had the most empathy for Aelin, "We'll winnow to the outside of the court."
He turned to face the others, "Amren, Cassian go back home." He sighed, running a hand through his windswept hair "I should not have left it unprotected, Azriel, you go with them."
Az stiffened, his eyes shooting to the back of Mor's blonde head. Rhys shifted to look at Mor, "I assume you want to come?"
Mor crossed her arms over her chest, " I don't want to, but there is no way in hell I'm letting Feyre go alone."
Rhysand raised an eyebrow at her, "Um, excuse me? I'm coming."
Mor stepped past him, glancing over her shoulder, "Please, you couldn't hurt a fly."
Feyre grinned at Mor and patted Rhys on the chest, "She's right darling, it's best to let us handle it."
Aelin was still rubbing her wrist impatiently next to Feyre yet said, her features dead serious, "Yes. Leave it to the professionals."
Feyre chuckled as Rhysand stared at Aelin, trying to decipher whether she was joking or not. Aelin stared back defiantly, offering no explanation so he was forced to move on, "I'll winnow first, then Feyre and Aelin, then Mor. When we get there-"
Aelin cut in,"When we get there, I will go in by myself, and I will come out with Rowan."
Even Feyre was slightly surprised- Rhys was intimidating, to say the least, and though they all knew he wouldn't hurt someone for something that minor it was a risky move.
Rhys' hands slipped into his pockets, "But what if you need help?"
"I'll send a pillar of fire from wherever I am, can we go now?"
Her mate ran his eyes over Aelin's frame, and Feyre hoped he wouldn't question her. Luckily Rhysand just nodded, and released Feyre's hand, brushing a kiss on her cheek, before he disappeared.
Feyre walked over to Aelin and took her hand. Then she winnowed.
o-0-o
Aelin stumbled when she hit the ground, only Feyre's hand kept her up. Her stomach lurched but she demanded herself not to throw up. She had thrown up enough in the last days. Enough for her lifetime. And Aelin would not throw up now, not when she was so close to getting him. So with all her queenliness, she forced her stomach to not betray her.
Mor appeared beside her as she rose to her feet. Aelin stepped forward, pulling her hand from Feyre's- not wanting to waste any more time. Her body was buzzing, or shaking- she didn't know. It was like being a kid on Yulemas, except she was, really, really, terrified. Not because of Tamlin, or even how injured Rowan might be. She- she didn't want to think enough about it to discover why she was scared. Aelin just wanted to get in and get out with her mate.
"Remember the flame if you're in trouble." Feyre called from behind her, "Good luck, Aelin."
"I won't need it." She muttered, slightly surprising herself. Aelin- or rather Celaena had been arrogant for so long it was an automatic response, especially in situations like this. She could change it, but she won't.
Aelin inhaled deeply, gripping her daggers as she stalked through the tall grass and wildflowers. She wished she had a sword, but at least daggers would be more personal when she cut his head off. Feyre's court had never answered her question about killing Tamlin. Though after he had tried to rape her, then captured and whipped her mate- she didn't care. And from the limited information she had heard from Feyre, Aelin would be doing her court and this world a favor by murdering that tool.
o-0-o
Ianthe took a step back and opened her mouth to scream before Rowan cut off her oxygen, and relished in the sound of her body hitting the stone floor. What a horrible female. She had probably been visiting him to play with his hair and stroke his skin again. He snarled, at least she had had enough shame not to bring guards.
Footsteps rushing down the stairs echoed through the dungeon. Or not, he thought, before a fae male appeared. He had red hair, and most noticeably a whizzing, golden, mechanical eye that was fixed on Ianthe's unconscious body.
It rose to Rowan's emotionless face, he had slipped into his killing calm, and he could feel his energy returning.
"Is she dead?" the male asked, and Rowan was surprised when he heard a hint of hopefulness.
Rowan didn't reply, this male smelled differently from the other fae here, not entirely of spring. Then the redheaded male's eyes slid to the shackle around his wrist and the punctures where the ashwood spikes had stabbed his flesh.
His eye widened and he shouted "Guards! Tamlin!"
He stumbled back and Rowan sighed, the male collapsed. For a moment he had thought the male was not connected to the Highlord, and he would be able to let him go. Rowan stepped over Ianthe's and the male's body and took the stairs two steps at a time. His ears twitching at the pounding of footsteps above him.
Rowan reached the top, the hallway he was in completely contrasting the one of the dungeons. It was well lit, the wood floor was covered in a lush rug, oil paintings adorned the wall. He tensed when guards filed in the wide hallway, spears already drawn.
Rowan gnashed his teeth and punched the first male in the face, he staggered and Rowan grabbed his hand and twisted. The Guard yelped and dropped the spear. The prince kicked the guard in the gut and he hit the floor. Two other guards charged and Rowan sent a gust of wind, sending them flying into their comrades. He picked up the spear, and in a minute flat, the guards' limp bodies littered the rug. He had tried to knock out as many of them as possible, but some fae just needed a blade through their stomachs... or faces.
He braced his uninjured hand against the wall, hissing pain still spread through his back when he moved. His magic was still struggling to flow from the ashwood in his blood. As Rowan stopped to catch his breath, he counted the corpses littering the floor. Seven. All men, five passed out, two killed. He stilled his heavy breathing to listen closely- the red haired male had shouted for guards and Tamlin, and this was all that had come?
o-0-o
Feyre's nails dug into Rhysand's hand, she was fidgeting with her clothes, biting her lip- her whole body read as hesitate and nervous. Aelin had disappeared into the horizon a minute ago, she was probably in view of the manor this very second. Feyre had told herself that Aelin was capable- she was a goddamned assassin after all, yet she felt horribly guilty. She should go in with her. Aelin had thrown up after a minute of running, she had no strength, and only two daggers and her magic to defend herself with- and Feyre wasn't sure how powerful Aelin's magic even was.
Rhysand pulled his eyes from the horizon to look down at her, lacing her fingers around his so she wouldn't pick apart his skin, "What's wrong?"
"What is Aelin's mate like?" If he wasn't a warrior Aelin would be fighting all alone, with the burden of her mate. Feyre swallowed, if she was going to follow her in, she should go now.
Her mate's beautiful face scrunched down at her, "He's... nice, why?"
"No... I mean physically." she elaborated, looking at the point she had last seen Aelin's figure.
A grin pulled at his lips and he tugged her closer, " Why? Are you thinking of trading me in?"
Feyre tore her eyes from that point and rolled her eyes, "I mean, is he a fighter?"
"Ah. Yes, definitely. His magic seemed very powerful and he moves like a warrior."
She pursed her lips, that probably meant he was big and heavy, so if he was passed out- or very weak, Aelin wouldn't be able to carry him.
Feyre pursed her lips. The assassin had kept her sane during the past weeks, she had saved her from Tamlin several times... and she was right, if Feyre hadn't asked her to kidnap her, Aelin would have been there when her mate came.
Feyre released Rhys' hand and stepped forward, "I'm going after her." That didn't mean she was giving up her plan, it would make sense if Aelin brought her for leverage. They were both good at improvising. If they encountered Tamlin they would make it work.
Rhys jumped forward, "Feyre, she's fine she can handle it." He reached for her, "Aelin will signal us if she needs help."
"But what if she doesn't get a chance to? Or she doesn't have enough magic?" she swallowed, "I'll be fine. Don't you trust me enough to handle it?" She explained her feet already moving through the grass.
Mor began approached her, but the HIghlord stood still, running his hand through his hair and over his face. "Fine. Of course, I trust you"
Mor bared her teeth at him. Rhysand ignored her, "Though if you are in any danger, promise you will pull on the bond." his eyes darkened, "In twenty minutes if you are not out, we will come in and get you out."
"Twenty minutes?" Feyre said, she had expected more resistance- but twenty minutes was a short amount of time.
"Yes, just get in, get him, and get out."
Feyre stepped backward, nodded, and then disappeared as she winnowed to Aelin.
o-0-o
It didn't take much time for Aelin to submit to the idea of burning the Spring Court to the ground, by the time she kicked open those wastefully elaborate doors her hands were surrounded in red dancing flame. She had missed the warmth of her fire. After months of it being held down by the iron, it was pleading to lash out.
The door slammed into the the wall, and it's sound never got a chance to echo before a shout cut across it. A crowd of the guards was gathered at the back of the room, most with their backs turned to her. The male who had shouted was drawing their attention to her. They were all armed with the same spear. It was a good thing she had her magic- it would have been hard to get them close enough to stab with a dagger. The guards stopped and turned to her, their eyes darted between the hallway beyond and Aelin, if they were unsure if she was a threat she would make it very clear.
Aelin stepped forward, her body as fluid and weightless- and dangerous as her flame. Keeping her eyes on them she snarled, her magic lacing around them. She was taken aback when it found more and more guards waiting behind the walls. Aelin wasn't going to let any of them get away, she would enjoy every drop of blood she spilled.
Where her magic could sense no more fae, a wall of fire roared to life, containing them in their doom.
Yelps came from behind the wall, and after a glance back the guards had to advance. The first one stepped forward, his spear brandished in front of him, "Where is the Highlords Fiance, girl?"
There was a whoosh as the door swung open, "I'm here." a devilishly delighted voice said.
Aelin turned, already knowing what she would see, "I told you not to come." and she meant the hostility in her voice. She didn't want to have to worry about not burning Feyre when she sent this place alight.
"I felt guilty." she said, her eyes oddly serious and frightening. Like a Highlady, Aelin thought.
"Fine," she nodded, a queen's nod- though Feyre didn't know that, "but when Tamlin comes, you're going to have to play damsel again." she finished, turning back to the hoard of perplexed guards.
A growl that had Aelin grinning ripped through the silence and Feyre took her place beside her.
Aelin leaned sideways, "I don't know about you but I like to start traditionally." She pulled out her daggers, one held inward for stabbing, the other outwards for blocking and slashing.
Feyre smirked, "Likewise." she drew the bow from her back that Aelin hadn't even noticed, pulling an arrow from the quiver at her side.
Finally one of the guards opened mouths decided to make itself useful, "My lady, what are you doing? This is your court, you are our Highlord's bride."
Aelin was sick of waiting, sick of talking, and she had been sick of politics since she was eight. She took three broad steps forward and grabbed a guard's neck bringing it down on her blade. Aelin felt the burden of the life that was taken, she always felt it but- when it was like what was sure to come- a massacre, a slaughter. After the first few thuds, scream, gurgles of men choking on their own blood, Aelin would become numb. Even so, the gasp from this man and his brethren as her knife parted flesh, the thud of knees and spear on floor was not entirely unwelcomed.
o-0-o
"Lord- Highlord!" a panting voice called.
Rowan froze, ears scanning for Tamlin's distinct footsteps, he gripped his stolen spear tighter.
"Yes, guard." replied the rumbling voice of the Highlord, Rowan growled, slowly approaching the sound- until-
"She's back- she's blocked the guards and herself in the throne room with a wall of fire- it's fucking mad in there. We can't get to them." the guard wheezed
He froze- fire, a wall of flame. Oh god. Rowan closed his eyes, shit. Fucking hell- that woman. He wasn't sure if his body was buzzing with terror or joy- but that's how it always was with Aelin. His chest was already pounding with just the thought of the hell she would raise, but- he needed to get to her before Tamlin did. Rowan would break Tamlin's every bone, and hand that pile of shit to Aelin on a platter to do whatever she pleased. But the Highlord would never get the pleasure of seeing Aelin again unless he was a mush of flesh who couldn't hurt her with a death machine in his hands.
The Highlord huffed, "Come with me, we're getting Rowan- the fae, we can use him as leverage."
Like hell they were going to use him against her.
Footsteps padded against the carpet of the adjacent hall, Rowan bared his spear and crept to the corner where they would emerge from. A flash of movement appeared and he stabbed, low enough not to kill. A man yet out a cry and curled into where Rowan had stabbed him in the side. He heard the shrill shriek of metal. Rowan jumped backward before he could get slashed across the gut.
Tamlin swung and leapt from the corner, his sword already drawn, "You." he barked, not even looking at his moaning guard as he stepped over him.
"Me." Rowan twirled the spear to the blunt end and jabbed.
Tamlin hacked at the wooden staff, attempting to disarm him before he feigned right and brought his blade up to cut Rowan in half. It was a foolish move, Rowan braced the staff above him with both hands, and kicked the Highlord in the knee cap. The male roared drowning the sickening crack Rowan had memorized after hundreds of years on the battlefield. Tamlin's left leg collapsed and he crumbled next to his servant. Rowan ripped the sword in from his hand while he rolled on the floor clutching his shattered knee.
Just to piss Tamlin off, Rowan took the time to leisurely balance the sword in his hand, "Nice, I'll keep this as a souvenir."
Tamlin groaned on the floor. "Your whore is in that room with fifty guards- she's probably already dead." he spat, rolling onto his back, starting to sit up using his arm.
Rowan snarled, grabbing his collar and pulling him to his feet, "Let me make this clear, you will take me to the throne room." Tamlin hissed in his face. Rowan pushed him against the wall, grabbing his shirt with both hands- his injured hand barking in protest as he kneed the Highlord in the gut, right below the ribs. He stepped back, and Tamlin slammed on the floor, sputtering for breath.
Rowan didn't have time for this shit- he pulled Tamlin up again, "And, every time you do something I don't like you lose a finger, when we run out of those we move to bigger body parts." He grinned down at the Highlord's dulled eyes.
The color drained from Tamlin, Rowan flashed him a grin and pinned his face against the wall. To keep him still he jammed his leg into his back, leaving one hand free to spread Tamlin's trembling fingers against the wall.
"This is for calling my wife a whore." he seethed in his ear.
He held his knife against his sword hand's thumb, "No-No- please, I'll give you land, money- I'll make you a lord!" Tamlin begged.
Rowan laughed and slowly pushed down, becoming a lord would be quite a downgrade, he thought. Then he felt the blade hit the bone and Rowan slammed it down. Not taking time to scoff at the Highlord's whimpers he pulled away and pushed Tamlin forward with a knife to his back.
"Show me." he demanded.
o-0-o
Feyre hadn't thought this through, Aelin was an assassin, and if Feyre had had any doubts before they were completely gone. Aelin- Aelin twirled and swung, and plunged spear heads into people's eyes and necks without even blinking. She was grinning, and Feyre wasn't judging her- her fighting was mesmerizing. If Feyre wasn't busy with her own opponents she would have sat and just watched. And taken notes.
Despite all the killing, there were still fifty guards left, all the guards had for some reason been in the throne room and the connected hall it seemed. By the time Aelin was done, the walls would be painted red. And she hadn't even touched her flame yet. Cauldron knows what hell she would create when she did.
Feyre, on the other hand was not as comfortable with murder as she had thought. It just felt too similar to killing the innocents under the mountain- yes, she had killed since then, when protecting the people she loved. And yes, she was always willing to kill to protect them. But- these were just men, who, though were attacking her, were doing their jobs. None of them had ever been cruel to her- and even now they never attacked to kill. So she tried not to either, she shot for their legs, but it seemed every time they crumbled Aelin was their to decapitate them.
Then through the clash of swords, the groans, the thuds, the cursing, an unfamiliar male's voice with the intensity of a whirlwind growled from the end of the hallway, "Shit."
The room exploded in blue fire, Feyre could now say she had experienced hell.
o-0-o
"Fuck." Rhysand barked as flame erupted on the skyline, "Mor, come on. We have to winnow, now. Now!"
"That's fire? Why is it blue?" Mor replied, jumping to her feet and squinting her eyes.
Rhysand didn't reply, shit, shit, shit, he never should have let Feyre go alone. What was he thinking? He had just gotten her back and he let her walk into danger without him? He was a horrible mate. Shit. And Feyre hadn't pulled on the bond, either she was too injured to do so, or, Aelin had lost control of her magic and was now burning the whole house down, with Feyre inside.
Even though he didn't need to Rhys grabbed Mor's arm, winnowing them as close as possible to the house. Which was way too far away, apparently Tamlin had decided to strengthen his boundaries. He picked up Mor with no resistance and flew to the house in seconds, it had only been a bit away, but every passing moment was slow-motion hell.
The flame had retreated, but the doors, the walls, the steps, were left chard from where it had seeped through the cracks. Gods. That female must have lit the whole house on fire. Rhysand released Mor on the porch and rammed into the door with his shoulder, his magic instinctively reaching out to find and protect Feyre.
The room was a battlefield but what hit him first was the horrific stench of burnt- or burning flesh. If Rhysand wasn't entirely focused on spotting Feyre in the graveyard he would have gagged, it smelt.. it smelt sweet. Sickly, disgustingly sweet. His eyes finally landed on Feyre who held her bow limply at her side, staring at the blur of golden fire that was responsible for this destruction. She had every reason to stare, the woman was... horribly effective against the flood of guards. The seconds were counted by the the thud of corpses.
Rhysand snapped out of his professional analysis of Aelin's fighting and ran over to Feyre.
"What happened? Are you okay?" he gasped, rotating her body for signs of harm. Any guard who dared approach them fell to the floor, screaming and tearing at their hair and ears. They learned quickly not to come near his mate.
o-0-o
Tamlin had delivered Rowan to the flame wall with a bit of painful encouragement he had been more than willing to give. The sight of the dancing fire was enough to make warm tears form, he pushed past the Highlord, only having eyes for the burning divide between him and his mate. Just the beauty of the gliding strips of gold, red, and orange drowned all sounds of the battle in front of him. She was here. Aelin was minutes away from him. After the months and months of searching, he had found her. Rowan swore to himself that whatever happened next, even if she hated him, he would stay with her and protect her forever. Until his body decomposed into dirt. No matter how damaged she was physically and mentally he would drag her from the pain, just like before. And they would get back to the point they had been, and then at that point would he ask her to be his mate- not now, he didn't want to overwhelm her. Aelin had waited months and was willing to wait for longer to spare him pain, so he would do the same. He would wait centuries. They had thousands of years together to figure everything out. But he mustn't overwhelm her.
Rowan turned to grab Tamlin and push him into the flame, unprotected- "Shit." he growled before a mass which Rowan likened to a bear slammed him into the ground, Tamlin's sword slipped from his hand and Rowan shot both hands up to grab the beast's neck before his head was bit off. He heaved, begging for the air to return to his lungs.
Behind all the chaos he felt a surge of aelin panic. He couldn't move to look back and see what happened but an ear splitting roar burst through the room. And Rowan felt the heat of the flame wall dangerously pulse. He clenched his teeth, he had to get to her quickly.
The animal steadied, becoming more that a blur of fur as it tensed and strained to sink its teeth into Rowan's face. Finally, he scented it and saw it's leaf green eyes, "Fuck." he ground out. Of course, Tamlin had some magic up his sleeve. The pressure of Tamlin's weight became too much and before his arms snapped Rowand grabbed his snout, holding it tightly as it thrashed. He pulled his knee to his chest then kicked outwards at the beast's gut. Tamlin was forced to the side and Rowan rolled backward before claws could grab him, hissing from the wounds on his back.
If Tamlin was going to use magic, Rowan would too. Tamlin rose to from the floor as a blade of ice was fired at him, he leapt to the right to avoid it but another flying spike was already there. It grazed his cheek, drawing blood and the beast roared.
o-0-o
The throne room shook when a deep roar rumbled like waves through the house, Rhysand looked at the passage to the hallway. The guards' corpses were stacked upon each other but many were still left. He glanced at Aelin- the assassin, she hadn't paused her slashing, the only sign she had heard the bone-rattling cry was her gritted teeth. She killed even faster, with even more reckless disregard for lives- hers and theirs.
"I think that's Tamlin with Rowan." Feyre said, gripping his shoulder, "I'm not sure but I think I heard his voice from there a minute ago, that was where the flame was from. Aelin heard it and she just... exploded."
"How are you not hurt?" Mor asked behind them, pausing her killing to survey the Highlady again.
Feyre shook her head, "I don't know, the flame just didn't touch me. But it was hot as hell."
Rhysand's eyes circled the room, it was true, it looked as if she had exploded. The whole room was blackened, the oil paintings he knew Feyre had adored were still burning where they hung. And the men, the stench still hung in the air. He looked at a body near his feet, it's face- it had been melted. Completely. Exposing the white skull beneath. Still more disgusting was where the jaw hung open, showing the blistered throat where the fire had shot down. Rowan hadn't lied, Alien was powerful. And dangerous.
o-0-o
Rowan backed up towards the welcoming heat of the flame. Tamlin's beast form towered a head above him, it was a mismatch of body parts from different animals Rowan didn't care to separate. What he would have to watch out for were the three inch claws the Highlord idly scraped against the wall as he approached. Rowan braced himself for the impact of his massive weight, then Tamlin charged.
Rowan already had a plan, people were always used to fighting others- they were never used to fighting themselves. Tamlin was too transfixed to notice the claws of ice growing on Rowan's hands as they hung, ready, by his side. The beast launched at him. Rowan took the hit curling to roll backwards. The collision left Rowan gasping, he gritted his teeth and plunged the claws into Tamlin's flesh. Tamlin flinched and snarled in pain, it was the distraction Rowan needed to flip him over his head- through the fire.
The beast shrieked when he disappeared through the wall. Rowan stood, flexing his blood covered hands. He casted a shell of air around him and walked through the flame. Unharmed.
A second wall of the of sound clashing weapons and smell of burnt bodies hit him. Rowan looked past Tamlin- around that corner was Aelin. He was so close. He took step forward and looked down at the Highlord. Actually Tamlin this time. The fur and horns were gone, he was up against the wall, clutching his gut where Rowan's claws had pierced. His face was already blistering from Aelin's barrier. Rowan stood and watched as the Highlord pulled his thumbless hand away, staring at the blood drenching it in shock. One hand drifted to his face, wailing as he felt the damaged skin.
Then all the noise stopped, there was no more clashing, or roaring of flame, even Tamlin's shaking stilled. Rowan looked to his left, the wall of fire was gone. It was complete silence. He couldn't tell if his heart had stopped or if it was pounding in his chest, but he knew he was going to implode.
Finally- a quiet voice came to him like ripples in a pond from the other room, "Rowan."
It was the voice that had haunted his dreams and corrupted his thoughts the moment he had heard it. He was going to wake up any second and it was all going to be a dream. Everything- he would wake still bound to Maeve, still broken and hurting from Lyria's murder.
It hadn't been more than a whisper, like she was afraid of the answer. The timidness in her voice ripped at him. Rowan was standing on a ledge and following her voice would be jumping from it. He had been searching for her for months and months, and now when she was so close- Rowan just wanted to hold on to the idea that she was okay and unharmed for a moment longer. Before he had to face how much he had failed her.
He swallowed, and finally looked to his right- down the corridor that would lead him to her. Rowan repeated the vows he had told himself before, he would not overwhelm her, he would face whatever happened next; it didn't matter if she was weak and broken because he would be strong enough for both of them. Rowan would hear that voice every day for the rest of his life and he would not let it go silent.
After the first footstep, all those thoughts were left behind, they were replaced by the overwhelming draw to her- his wife, his mate. Three steps more- then his magic got restless and reached out for her, it casted itself through the room. But Rowan didn't even feel what it discovered, because at that moment he rounded the corner.
His eyes found hers and the leash he kept on himself at all times snapped. A dome of impenetrable air snapped around them and outside Rowan swore he heard the rumble of thunder. Rowan ran- sprinted, hurdled every ounce of remaining energy to get to her before the world hurt her again.
Aelin dropped her weapons, and they rattled on the tile as the two mates collided. But Rowan was sure to be gentle, careful of any wounds. Aelin was not- she tore at the bare skin of his shoulder, his neck, just to get him closer to her.
"Fireheart" he breathed into her hair.
The marks she made drew blood that Rowan didn't care was being smeared in his white hair. He didn't care about anything- he wouldn't have cared if he had had a knife through his heart.
Rowan just held his head to her neck, breathing in her scent. He couldn't differentiate between the heat of her skin and the heat of his tears. Aelin pressed her lips and teeth to him and nipped at his jaw. He shook, gripping her tighter- it was only when Aelin had been torn from his side he had realized how much he relied on her. Rowan could not breathe, or move, or think without her anymore. And now for the first time in months, he could. He could breathe.
He just wanted to stay like this forever, her safe and them together. Rowan pressed a kiss to her throat as he sunk to his knees, dragging her down with him, pulling her closer to his chest.
And then the blissful moment was gone- the moment when it hadn't been their bodies reuniting, but their souls and magic clashing and intertwining at last. And his nerves finally started firing again- and his brain and hands finally recognized the sharp bones pressing into his body, the ridges of all the pain he hadn't been there to protect her from. Rowan pulled back, his hands framing her face, her eyes were dulled with layers of pain and pain, her cheeks were hollow- and marred with twin vicious lines. He sobbed- despite this still smiling that stunning grin at him through her tears. She covered his hands with hers, and her smile faded when she noticed his injured wrist, she pulled the hand from her face, frowning down at the puncture wounds.
Rowan could do nothing but watch in awe as she cradled his hand in hers, "What happened? Are you okay?"
Rowan sunk further to the floor and he became lost in the surrealism of her presence, how unusually careful she ways being with his hand, that finally the scent he lived for surrounded him. Just that his mate was here, in front him, holding him.
"Rowan?" she asked raising an eyebrow, "Say something you buzzard."
He didn't know whether to laugh or continue weeping, he had been afraid for so long that she would never mock him again.
"I love you, Aelin."
So... It's done. (The chapter not the story don't freak) I was questioning cutting this chapter off right before the reunion. But then the tension would be loss. I don't feel great about this chapter- fight scenes are hard for me to write. And I'm worried I didn't make the reunion emotional enough. You tell me, thanks for reading!