A Court of Ice and Fire

Chapter 38

It was still early in the morning, so the streets were emptier than usual, but I didn't mind as I made my way through the streets, letting the calm city relax my racing mind. I stop at almost every stall I can, buying some of the most random things from the vendors lining the streets.

As soon as word gets out that a women with a seemingly endless spending limit is purchasing items from the vendors, the streets quickly become filled with both customers and bustling fae attempting to sell their wares.

I spend the better part of my morning in the streets of the city, using the very generous amount of money Rhysand had been paying me to buy random trinkets. When my pockets are filled and my arms are beginning to grow tired from carrying everything I had bought, I begin to walk back the way I had come, deciding that an ale at Rita's might not be the worst idea in the world.

As I walk, I admire a set of leatherbound journals I had gotten for Azriel—the front of them engraved with intricate designs and artwork that would impress even Feyre. I don't even realize I had bumped into someone until half of my things drop out of my arms, and I stumble over them as I stop to pick them up.

"I'm so sorry I should watch where..." My sentence stops when I feel a cold hand grip onto my wrist, and I completely forget about my items on the ground when a fine powder gets blown into my face, causing me to cough and sputter as the substance enters my airways.

I rear back, ripping my arm out of the unknown person's grip as I stumble backwards, wiping at my stinging eyes. The blue dust coated my fingertips as I spit the substance onto the ground, my teeth clenching together as I feel my body cave in on itself, the fire that usually warmed my veins disappearing in one swift move.

Faebane.

The people around me instantly back up in fear as two men in the crowd draw out swords---the metal glinting in the sunlight as they approach me. "Come with us girl—you've got no where to run." One of the men orders, his voice deep and unfamiliar.

My mind races, and I mentally curse myself for leaving the house without arming myself first. I take a step back, stalling for as long as possible as I come up with a plan. "Who are you?" I demand, my hands clenched into tight fists at my side as I look between the two men.

They smile, their teeth yellow and rotten. "The King's Raven's. And we've come to take you back." One of them sneers, and I curse internally, my mind fumbling over the possible options I could take.

I had no access to my power, and no weapons save for a paintbrush that I doubt could do much damage. "Why?" I question, not really giving a damn about their answer, but the longer they talk, the longer I can think.

"You took something from the Cauldron. You and your bitch of a sister. And the King wants it back." His words only make the dread in my stomach rise, and I raise my fists as they both advance, not planning on making this any easier on them.

I'm about to take my first swing when hard steel collides with the sword in front of me, and I blink stumbling back. "Stay the fuck away from her." Idris's voice is cold and vicious as she stands in front of me, her sword raised proudly in front of her.

A sense of relief shoots through me as Roma appears at my side, her twin daggers twirling in her hands. She hands me one without even looking my way, and I clench the handle in my hand tightly.

The Hybern soldiers don't hesitate before charging forward, but Roma and Idris get to them first—their blades slicing through their defenses like they were made of butter. I stand there, completely shocked as their bodies fall to the ground, pools of red coating the cobbled ground.