Chapter 271

The Illyrians peering down at them were taunting them. Lucien tried his best to ignore the jeers and jibes as he reached for the magic of the shields. There were vulgar gestures, and calls of threats and promises of things to come once they got in. It took rather a lot of self-control to pretend he couldn't hear the descriptions of what would be done to his mate, and he hoped that Elain hadn't heard it herself. They were stupid if they thought that saying those things would make him weak. If anything, it only improved his determination to keep them out, to ensure that not a one of them would get anywhere near her.

The taunting, it seemed, was having the desired effect on Cassian. Lucien saw him scowling up, swearing from between clenched teeth, and he thought for an instant to say something to the Illyrian, but he held his tongue.

When Lucien took hold, in his mind, of the shield, he just about gasped at the amount of raw power he was met with. It was almost as if he could feel each individual strand, as if each thread that had come from someone different was somehow identifiable. He could feel the wildness of Cassian, the stoic quiet strength of Azriel, he could feel the strangeness of Feyre, able to tell she was different somehow, and he could feel the savagery and icy rage of Nesta. All of them were there, and they were all waiting for him to use what they had given. He didn't know how.

He staggered. Lucien hadn't been aware that he had, but someone grabbed his elbow, righting him, and he knew that he had staggered. It was too much power, though. How was anyone meant to harness that kind of energy and magic.

"Do it." Feyre said, and he could hear the worry in her voice. "You need to do it, now."

"It's too much…" he breathed, "I… I don't…" Shaking his head, he skirted that reservoir of power he had located.

"Lucien…" Feyre said, "You're the cleverest person I know…"

"He doesn't know what he's doing…" One of the Illyrians called from above them. Lucien looked up to meet his dark eyes. "It doesn't matter… we'll get in…"

"Yeah," Another added, laugher in his voice. "That'll be fun."

"It will." The first called down to them, "I've never had High Fae cunt before." He smirked, "Think I'll spend some time with the pretty one…"

Lucien's blood went cold, and then hot. He felt something burning from within him and turned his attention back to the shield. He remembered what Elain had said about weaving a tapestry, and he reached for the closest thread of magic; this one belonging to Nesta. Her cold rage began to seep into him and he let go in a hurry.

"Pull yourself together." Cassian snapped at him, and Lucien blinked. "You have the ability to do this better than any one of the rest of us. You were born to be a High Lord. You may not have the title yet, but you will. You're capable of taking and wielding endless amounts of power. So do it!"

Before he could even respond to that, Lucien felt Elain move up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He felt her press her forehead into his back as she settled against him, and then he realised that she was wrapping the both of them in the golden glow of the bond which tethered them together. Whatever she was doing made him feel stronger, and he was thankful for her for about the thousandth time that day. Nodding, he reached for the shield again, grasping one of Nesta's threads with more confidence before he grabbed one of Feyre's, and began weaving them around one another.

Before long, Lucien had a strong grip on everything his friends had given him and he wrapped himself in their power and their strength. He thought again about what Elain had said to him about how he would one day be very good at using the power he had inherited from Helion, and then he remembered what she had told him about how he was made equally from Autumn and Day. Both of those Courts had felt like home to him, and he knew that they were both a part of him. She had said that he should use both of them, and he wondered if he would be able to weave them together like he had done with the magic from the others.

Picturing his flame within his mind, Lucien tried to call forth the light he'd gotten from Helion. A golden glow began to surround him, everywhere in his mind, and he pushed it toward his fire. The flame glowed more brightly, and Lucien tilted his head. Was that it? Was that how it worked? How was he going to turn that into a weapon?

He tried to move the flame, wondering how he would be able to control it and he found it worked well. The light seemed to emanate from the flame, surrounding it and he wondered if he could use that to guide it.

"Alright…" he murmured, "I think that I might have it…"