Nameless ( A Court of Mist and Fury and Throne of Glass Crossover)

Buzzard

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.