Divided (Throne of Glass and A Court of Thorns and Roses Crossover)

Chapter 31

"Aidan," Aelin interrupeted, "stop. You're boiling it again." 

Aidan looked down at her hands in the bowl and pulled them out quickly. In truth, she hadn't been concentrating on the bowl of water but on the sparring ring below them. The two of them had spent a lot of time in the training room lately, Aelin pushing her harder than ever. 

Every so often, Rowan or one of Aelin's children who had been gifted with ice and wind would try to help her by describing how they tapped into their own magic. So far, it hadn't helped even an inch. If anything, the extra attention from Aelin's family made her nervous.

"Doesn't anyone here actually have a job to do?" Aidan asked, genuinely curious. 

Aelin snorted, "Probably, but they don't really listen to me."

"Shouldn't they listen to you? After all, you're their Queen," Aidan said, absentmindedly swirling a finger in the basin.

"Well, they listen to me when it counts, and Doranelle really rules itself."

"You're right. What do you even do?" Aidan asked. She thought Aelin would laugh, but she got quieter instead.

"Nothing, apparently," Aelin looked down at Azriel in the ring sadly. "I can't send Azriel and Tamlin home. I can't teach you how to use your magic."

The assassin-queen jumped up from her seat on the floor and grabbed onto the platform railing, looking down below. 

"Can someone come up here and teach Aidan how to do magic because I obviously can't," Aelin called and then leaped down off the platform and walked out the door, hands curling and uncurling the entire way. 

Aidan watched her as she went, face scrunched in confusion. She hadn't meant to upset her aunt at all. Aidan felt bad, perhaps she couldn't learn because she was just a bad student.

"Umm, hello," Azriel said, climbing up onto the platform.

Aidan was surprised that out of the many Fae below, Azriel was the one to come up. 

"Hello," Aidan said, and Azriel sat down across the basin from her. It was almost comical, seeing him sit on the floor on the small platform. He had to pull his wings in so that he would fit comfortably. 

"I'm sorry, Azriel, but do you have any magic?" Aidan asked, unconvinced. 

"Not in the traditional way, no."

"Then how--," Aidan started.

Interrupting, Azriel said, "I'm over five hundred years old. I've seen my fair share of magic."

He dipped his finger in the basin and continued, "In Prythian, magic is linked to the court in which you live. For example, Tamlin can shape shift and manipulate the air around him, which is traditionally linked to the Spring Court. You more closely resemble Kallias, the High Lord of Winter. He can manipulate ice, and you once asked me if Feyre was my mate."

Aidan nodded, knowing that he hadn't finished.

"Feyre is the High Lady of the Night Court. The First High Lady Prythian has ever seen," Azriel stopped.

Aidan said, "You sound like you admire her very much."

"I do indeed. Feyre was born into a wealthy human family much like you. When she was young, her father fell into hard times, and instead of protecting his daughters, he allowed them to starve. Feyre grew up faster than she should have, she had to make some hard decisions to keep them alive. I think the two of you are very similar." 

"How did Feyre become High Lady of the Night Court if she was born human?"

"It's a very long, unpleasant story, Aidan," Azriel answered vaguely. 

"I have nothing else to do, and maybe it will help me somehow."

"Fine. But you might not be able to look at Tamlin the same way again," Azriel warned and launched into the tale of Feyre Archeron. 

"Wait! So, Feyre can manipulate ice and fire, just like me?"

Azriel laughed, lounging against the rail of the platform, "And wind. She can read minds, and she can heal, among many other things."

"How did she learn how to do it all?"

"Well, some of it just came to her, especially when she was upset or in danger. Other things were taught to her, like winnowing and reading minds."

"But how exactly?"

"She didn't put so much pressure on herself," he said, and Aidan caught his meaning.

"How can I not put pressure on myself? Aelin thinks it's her fault that I can't do it, and I want to be able to freeze Prince Adrian in a block of ice when I return to Adarlan." 

Something like a shadow of an emotion passed over Azriel's face and then was gone again. 

He reached out and took her hand, placing it in the water basin. 

Not letting go of her hand, he said, "It won't hurt to try again. Don't force it though. Just focus and try."

He gave her a small, reassuring smile, and Aidan focused on his hand on hers in the basin. She imagined the water around their hands becoming colder and colder, ice chips forming at the top of the water. She looked up then, expecting Azriel to be watching the the ice form in the basin below, but his eyes were firmly on her face. 

"Keep going," he breathed.

Aidan focused back on the water and did as she was told, freezing the water into a complete block, save for the pocket of cold water around their hands. 

Aelin leaned against the door of the training room. She was on her way back to apologize to Aidan when she realized it was Azriel on the platform with her. The two of them both had a hand in the basin, and Aidan was more focused on it than she had ever seen her. 

She could tell Azriel didn't care much for the ice that was forming around his hands but cared a great deal about the wielder. His eyes never moved from her face. Aelin couldn't help but feel bad for the two of them, wondering what the gods had planned. An Illyrian shadowsinger from Prythian and the heiress to the Adarlanian throne. 

She rolled the small cobalt stone she had won around in her pocket as she watched the two of them, Aidan the magic and Azriel her siphon. 

Aelin's eyes widened in realization, pulling the stone from her pocket. Her gaze alternated a few times between Aidan and the stone, and she cursed the gods and her ancestors for the fate they had dealt the fair-headed princess of Adarlan.