Cursebreaker and Fireheart

Chapter 33: The Departure

"This is the last meeting we have time for!" Aelin yelled, shooting up out of her seat. "If all you bastards are going to do is waste time arguing, I'll go there mysel-" 

"Oh, hell no, you won't," Feyre interrupted. "You can't go by yourself, you-" 

"It was an empty threat!" Aelin threw up her hands in exasperation. "You all need to stop bickering and decide." She sat down in her chair again, crossing one leg over the other. 

"Bickering is what these fools do best, dear Aelin," Mor muttered to her. "You should have seen the last meeting. At least Tamlin has shut up this time." 

"What you are suggesting is a suicide mission," Beron growled. "To deteriorate our numbers and just hope they won't see us coming is pure folly. Only an idiot would attempt this." 

"Only an idiot would pass up this opportunity!" Aelin said, throwing her hand around in front of her. "Because striking first is the only way we'll even have a chance at beating them, mark my words. Now, let's skip all the pouting and counter-claims. Who will help me?" 

Dead silence. Aelin risked a small glance at Feyre, and found the High Lady was already watching her. Feyre bit her lip, then nodded slowly. 

"I'll help you, Aelin," She said quietly. Rhys looked at her, his brows draw together, his mouth open and ready to argue. Feyre held up a hand, stopping him. "But you have to promise me something." 

"What?" Aelin asked, clenching the arms of her chair. She was beginning to hate promises. 

"You have to swear that if things go wrong, we will not stay and try to fix it in some last-minute plan. If it all goes to hell, we will return and regroup. I plan on living through this particular battle. Alright?" Feyre didn't so much as blink, not breaking her eye contact with Aelin. 

This was a promise Aelin would gladly keep. "I swear. I plan the same thing, after all." 

"Well, if you're going, then I am too," Rhysand said, taking Feyre's hand and looking over at Aelin. Aelin nodded sharply at him. She'd guessed as much. 

"Well, anything's better than waiting around on our asses," Tarquin sighed. "I'll help you, but I won't like it." 

"Well, I will not help, and I most certainly will like watching the rest of you die," Beron growled. He pointed at Aelin. "You are nothing but trouble. Females like you are the reason we have High Lords and not High Ladies." He cast a withering glare at Feyre, who merely raised an eyebrow at him. 

"Well, that's not exactly a loss," Aelin admitted. "You would have been a liability, anyway. Anyone else?" 

Ignoring Beron's quiet grumbling, Kallias sat forward. "I will help as well. But my terms are the same as Feyre's." 

"Of course," Aelin replied, inclining her head to the High Lord. She looked around at the circle of High Lords. When she met Tamlin's eyes, he looked away and glared at the floor. She'd guessed that Beron and Tamlin would refuse. But she'd thought the rest of them might see reason. She'd been right about Kallias and Tarquin. Thesan and Helion, however...

When no one else spoke, Aelin huffed a sigh through her nose and stood up once more. "Alright, those of us who are coming, meet back here in an hour." She didn't wait for a reply before leaving the room. 

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"I get the feeling the High Lords don't like me very much," Aelin told Rowan as she pulled her assassin suit on. 

"They aren't used to a female bossing everyone around." He replied, swinging his sword belt around his waist and buckling it. Aelin laughed and began checking her suit, counting the knives hidden inside.