It was freezing. The scent of fresh jasmines caressed the air while Aelin went over her plan once again. She stood outside the castle walls, embracing the darkness. She was well aware, her plan was farcical.
Riona had dispensed her with knowledge of the princess and her companions, most of which, to her bad luck, were Fae.
Fae were mythical creatures. Each with their own set of distinctive abilities. They were beings born thousands of years ago when the Sun Goddess Seraphine had mated with a mortal king. Their child, Queen Verena was born different from the rest of the royal children. Pointy ears and sharp canines were just the beginning of it. She was powerful, heightened senses, and the first of the royal line gifts. The Burning Fire. Soon the people had considered her a faerie, thus the gift of Fae existence had been passed down since. Each offspring escorting different powers and magic to the land, thriving and prospering it.
Even though she had agreed, Aelin was ambivalent towards her task. Why would she imprison a princess for an Amulet, a piece of jewelry very common?
But then again what good was a stuck-up princess to the world?
Thus, she had worked out all feasible outcomes in her head, each ensued with a gory conclusion. But if she had any chance of getting her Amulet back, she had to do what Riona said.
Even as every vein, every part of her screamed that what she was about to do was felonious and she'd suffer the consequences one day. She didn't care. She was the Silent Slayer, the merciless assassin of Tropilus, and she would pierce through anything that stood between her and her prize.
She braided her hair, now clean and washed as she scoured the darkness helplessly. Riona had facilitated her with a warm bath and pristine clothes. She'd been insisted to eat something but Aelin had courteously dismissed the offer. So now she stood outside, in the howling night, the brisk winds murmuring to her.
She clasped the hem of her cloak, its fleecy material mild against her raspy skin. While her new clothes were finer than she had seen and rather luxurious, her cloak was just as she had requested the queen for. A simple plain black one. Just how she preferred it. Black always helped her stay out of the picture, to be seen as some sort of shadow.
The hood was now thrown over her head obscuring her face in its gloominess.
Gentle footsteps resonated behind her.
"How long shall it take, before the princess is brought here?" Elijah asked. His voice was deathly, silver hair shining in the moonlight.
"Since your dear queen didn't really give me many details about the princess I'll take my time. So let her know she has to be patient," Aelin replied. Elijah let out a low snarl, exposing his white canines vaguely. She rolled her eyes as continuing to search the night.
"Where is she?"
There was nothing polite in the way she spoke to him, treating him like a servant. And she knew that all it took was a nod from Riona and Elijah would tear her into pieces, devouring every second of it.
"Belarus," he replied frowning.
"How will I get there?" Aelin asked. "Through a grim portal."
"And how does that work-" Aelin was midway through her sentence when Elijah interrupted her, his eyes disastrous. Like a flash of lightning, Elijah towered her, death radiating off of him.
"Listen, girl, I don't care who you are or what you are to do, I don't care what my queen will do to me but if you don't stop with that tone I will shred you into pieces. So stop asking me questions and acting like an immature, get your shit together, you'll know eventually what is going to happen." A ruthless reply.
Aelin almost said something, almost strangled the bitch that stood in front of her. But a force screamed to her to save her energy for the task at hand.
That force was common sense.
So as Elijah created some kind of circle on the ground, using Calculla sand, she double-checked all her daggers, arranged meticulously in their places. Honed and lethal. Three strapped in her belt, one in her boot, four at her back, and one pinned in her hair. Her heart was thumping loudly, hands now clenched in the cloak's pocket.
She was ready. Even as her breaths became faintly tottering, even as she closed her eyes shut and took deep breaths, she was ready.
She was going to Belarus. And she was going to bring hell to the princess and her companions.
~
Atarah occupied most of her day training with Ailani. Exhaustion overwhelmed her as she dodged another blow.
Mostly when it came to battles, the princess of Ethopia would retrieve to her tower, a dozen Fae soldiers patrolling outside. She'd hated it. She had despised restoring to that tower in times of danger when her people were fighting for their kingdom outside. For her kingdom.
So once she fled Ethopia, she would spend her time priming with Ailani. She still preferred her magic, a magnificent, red, burning fire that could burn her enemies to ash.
It was a royal family ability. One that ran through every child of the king and queen, but Ailani had demanded she mastered to fight with a sword.
"Can we take a break now?" Atarah panted. She was sweating a great deal. Bruises were painted everywhere on her body, throat dry as the sun roasted her skin. They had been trying to correct her left-hand defense for god knows how long now. "Besides how do you plan on fixing my defense if my left hand isn't working? I swear I can feel it shut down," Atarah protested.
"Oh princess, you aim to do such momentous things one day but you can't even handle an hour of sword fights. Are you sure you'll handle the king?" Ailani replied. Atarah gritted her teeth in response, a sudden wave of anger cruising her.
"Say that again I'll shove that stick up your ass," she replied hastily, jerking her chin towards Ailani's stick.
The sounds of birds chirping echoed around them.
The twins emerged from the inn, chuckling to themselves. Likely eulogizing the trouble they had caused for the innkeeper. Even though they were dedicated warriors, mischief had its way with them. Causing trouble for people was their uttermost favorite thing to do if they weren't at battle.
Esma caught Atarah's hazel eyes, the chuckle shifting to a heartwarming smile. Esma's tanned skin altered in the sun, as a cool breeze elapsed past Atarah. She nodded at Esma, mentally thanking her for the wind.
Lucien, Jude, and Cassian now strolled towards them from the seaside, discussing what sounded like the best battle strategies. Lucien's arms were crossed in front of his muscled chest, his brown hair messy from constantly moving his hands through it. Jude had his hands behind his back, intently listening to Cassian while he moved his hands in the air elucidating a visual.
Atarah cocked her head, blood sizzling at the sight of Lucien. Eyebrows raised, a smile on his face.
Once he gazed at Atarah, his face softened, now a mixture of joy and hunger. He took a step towards her, to embrace her.
But before Lucien took two steps, something as swift as the wind struck Atarah, and she fell to the ground as the thing stooped towards Cassian.
Lucien's heart stopped beating. He stared at the moving killing machine. It wasn't a king's soldier or a mythical creature, it was. . . it was a female.
~
Lucien darted towards Atarah who was already torpid. Surrounding voices started to fade away. His heart lurked in his chest at the sight of her chest's leisure movement. She was breathing and alive, he had almost cried at the thought of losing her. He cupped her face in his hand, caressing it slowly with his callous fingers. The sounds of swords clashing echoed around him, the sounds finally whispering to him.
Oh, he was going to kill that woman with his own hands. But even with the female slicing and cutting behind him, he kept his scrutiny on Atarah, his eyes stilled on her serene face.
"Come on princess, wake up," he whispered, his voice hushed.
Waiting for her to wake up and get somewhere safe, he paid no heed to what ensued behind him, not even the slightest to Cassian, whose throat was now in the female's hand.
~
Cassian gasped for breath as the hand around his throat consolidated. He made small noises unable to move from the lack of air. She had sliced his arm, pricking deep into his muscle, prompting him to screech in pain. Gods the woman was strong. Her skin felt rough and cold, her bright emerald eyes full of affliction and anger. He pulled her hand trying desperately to free his airway from the throbbing hold. His body screamed with anguish, his airway burning. He slowly closed his eyes as the darkness crept in, whooping him towards it.
Another down.
Cassian laid on the ground unconscious. Esma and Atlas racing towards the unfamiliar woman. Her black cloak streamed in the disgruntled air as she swung and sliced. Esma pulled her sword into the air and swayed the blade towards the female, who had two twin daggers out, their hilts glinting in the sunlight. She defected Esma's blow and pushed back on her sword.
Everything occurred so swiftly.
Atlas struck from the back, her sword hardly connected with the woman's black jacket before she swished in the air. The female kicked onto Atlas's chest, launching her flying back.
How could someone that looked no older than 19, be so strong?
She fought with such grace and force, Atlas would have pleaded to add her to the team in better circumstances. She was better than the seven of them together.
Air parted from Atlas's lungs, ribs crippling in pain, as she landed onto the hard ground, driving more suffering through her whole body. Within seconds Esma laid on the ground, next to her, blood leaking from a wound on her forehead.
Jude was under the woman's boot struggling to move, while Fennis was backed in a corner, his leg possibly broken. Jude scorched in pain as she stepped onto him harder, gracing him with a powerful punch before she lifted her boot.
Fennis watched, in agony as the female finally relaxed back, letting out a sigh. Strands had escaped her braided platinum blonde hair and fell onto the frame of her sharp jaw. She stumbled towards Atarah who was still unconscious, Lucien still next to her. His eyes had lost their color, blackness cloaking it, as he watched Atarah's chest move in and out. Fennis tried his hardest to move towards them, to warn Lucien of the woman approaching from behind him, a smirk planted on her face. But his body didn't allow it. It didn't allow him to move the slightest or say anything. His own voice seemed lost in him somewhere, as he watched them with his watery eyes.
How in gods was she so powerful?
The female dropped to the ground, eyes closed as her body hit the ground with a thump.
Zavia stood behind her in awe and confusion, her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of them.
"What the bloody hell happened here?" she questioned, her voice full of skepticism.
Everything had gone to hell in a matter of minutes and the woman, Fennis had no words for the damage she had done.
So he closed his eyes, his leg still denying to move, taking a deep breath as he leaned back into his corner and answered, "You have no idea."
~
Aelin opened her eyes, the back of her head pounding. She took her time to adjust to the gloomy room, eyes straining as she whirled her head around.
She had assumed she had dealt with all of them, but when the person behind her struck her, she fainted. Even though she failed at the task at hand, lost the element of surprise, and was captured, Aelin was pleased with herself.
All of them were pathetic with mortal weapons. Absolutely shit. If she wasn't so appealed with the thought of completing this task so easily, she would have detected the woman behind her.
"Well done Aelin," she said to herself grinning.
She had arrived here last night. The grim portal sending her flying through some sort of tunnel. All she remembered from it were the swish of greens and yellows and the time she spent sick after it.
After analyzing them the whole night, she knew it was best to pounce when they couldn't use their magic. They had power, she had wits. It had worked out, and she had stood watch until they were all in one place, ready to attack.
Aelin tried to move her hands to the back of her head, where the wound was, but her movement was cut off mid-way. A jerk restrained her arms from moving any further, rattling sounding around her.
They had chained her. She looked at the chains holding her legs and arms, sore from the rust that had formed over them. Rage roared in her, heat fueling in her body as she jolted her legs forwards, in terms to examine the chains. Moving her wrists and ankles and severe movements she forced them forward, each jolt whirling with pain. Aelin heard the faint sound of chains wreaking from their anchors. Fools. The chains holding her were just as pathetic as the people.
She glanced around in the darkness examining to find a way out. The outline of a door and a small window was visible.
Escaping through the chains wasn't hard but if she left through the door or window they would kill her, maybe use their magic depending on where she was being kept.
She could smash the back wall and run.
"Won't that be funny," she whispered to herself chuckling, shaking her head at the thought.
Her thoughts drifted back to the deal she had made. She was a fool for bargaining with the immortal Fae bitch Queen. But was it really worth it? After all, the queen had been known to deceive for a long time. So while she had considered capturing the princess, another scheme had been finding its way into her head. Handing over the princess that easily, that wasn't going to happen just yet. In the middle of all of this, another question crept into her mind. What war was coming? The queen had mentioned such and if she, the queen of earth, cunning and powerful and deceitful was taking precautions, something was wrong.
She contemplated her next moves. Losing the only advantage she had, the element of surprise, she had to rely on something else.
The idea clicked soon, eyes glowing with mischief, a smirk on her face.
She knew exactly what she was going to do even as the door creaked open. Light drowning the darkness.
Nine figures slowly stepped in, their soft footsteps pounding against the floor. They all took their places one by one as if their positions had already been decided.
One of them illuminated the room with fire, their faces now visible in the flicker of light. The scars she had given them had healed, probably through the Fae healing.
Oh, she had shaken them she had shaken them that was undeniable. And her entrance had left them stunned. She smirked at the thought of their faces.
"Still repairing from the damage are you all?"
She laughed loudly, sending rage whooshing through them all. She could feel it coming off of them and she loved it. The anger she caused.
Within seconds, a hand was on her throat, tightening with every second. Even as her breaths were cut off, her neck hurting from the hand, she made no noise, her expression tranquil.
"Lucien," one of the females called out. The air got more heated, intensifying with each passing second.
It was then she ultimately saw his face.
His golden skin gleamed with color, freshness, and smoothness painted over it. The color made his big grey eyes more note-worthy. His brown hair contrasted perfectly with the darkness, curled where it settled on his forehead. His prominent high cheekbones, sharp angular jaw were both visible in the flickering light. His tall and muscled figure brooding. His stare intensified on her, a growl escaping his lips as he moved back, his body moving graciously.
She gave him a sarcastic smile as he did, earning a gruesome glare from him. If she did escape she would make sure to kill that bastard first for even daring to touch her
Aelin only gestured her middle finger at him in a vulgar expression as he growled again tensing. The need to kill her shone in his eyes. This, she already knew, was going to be rather amusing.