A Court of Light and Embers

Chapter Twenty-Six

Aelin waited until the guards had left her lying in the white cell and locked the glass door with a swipe of their card, before she bolted upright, glaring at the door while rubbing her head. "Assholes," she grumbled, cracking her neck, where she was sore from having it flop as she was dragged to the prison.

She sighed, trying to rub the stains off the hem of her dress as she relaxed back onto her bed.

"Anansi Cozbi. Or should I say Aelin Galathynius."

Aelin lifted her head, grinning sweetly at Ruhn Danaan, who leaned against the glass frame, his arms crossed. "Ruhn. A pleasure, as always."

He glanced around her cell. "I see you've acquainted yourself with my father."

"Not really, I'm afraid. I was having a beautiful night, actually, until your ugly-ass showed up here."

"Ah. Still a bitch."

"Still a weak whore."

He chuckled, though his eyes darkened. "I don't you're in any position right now to be talking like that."

"And what position am I in?" Aelin asked coolly.

Ruhn ran a tongue over his teeth, his anger slipping its leash. "One that will probably end up with you being killed."

"You see, Ruhn, I find that quite doubtful." Aelin inspected her nails.

"Oh? How so?" He purred.

"You see, there's just one thing in your way." Aelin gave a sweet grin that could have killed ten men. "Your sister."

~

Bryce casually walked through the ballroom, observing the festivities. The little 'incident' with Feyre and Aelin had gone quite well. Now, it was her turn.

Her gown slithering on the floor behind her like a serpent, she glided up one of the grand staircases, pausing at the balcony to look over the crowd.

"How are you enjoying the party?"

The smell of cedar, rain and lightning danced around her senses as Hunt's hands slid around her waist, pulling her back flush against her front. "Not bad, actually. Who knew those two idiots could actually pull this off." Hunt hummed, his lips close to her ear. "When did you get here?"

"When they took Galathynius away. How do think Archeon is doing?"

Bryce sighed, running her fingers over his forearms. "No idea. But, now it's my turn to cause a little havoc." She turned, planted a quick kiss to his cheek, before sauntering down the second floor.

Her hips swishing, she floated through the halls, passing barely any people. She saw a few guards, all of whom merely dipped their heads. Perhaps killing a bunch of demons had its perks.

She rounded her final corner, and found herself staring at a dead end. On the wall was a beautiful, oil-paint portrait; of Ember Quinlan.

Her mother looked young and flawless, smiling prettily. But, there was something fake behind that tight-lipped smile. Something that begged for her to be freed.

Bryce shook her head, blinking out of her daze before pushing onwards. She needed to keep focused on the task at hand. If Feyre had done her job properly, then she shouldn't encounter any problems-hopefully.

She grunted as he lifted the massive painting from the wall, dropping it as quietly as she could onto the floor. She sighed as she spotted the massive, man-made hole in the wall.

"Good old dad," she breathed, climbing as daintily as she could into the secret passage. She quickly and hasity hooked the wire on the back of the portrait onto the nail in the wall, straightening it to the best of her ability to make it seem as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

The main reason that she knew where this tunnel was is because of the blueprints she had procured. It had showed the villa before renovations; it showed where each and every hallway was covered up by brick.

Using her phone's flashlight, she hurried down the dusty hallway, the wallpaper peeling and moulding. A small beam of light appeared ahead of her, and she dropped to her knees beside the small grate.

Peering through, she watched the beautiful creatures of Crescent City dance on the ballroom below her, completely unaware of what was going to happen. She sighed as she pulled the small vial from her clutch. Was she really doing this? She thought, weighing the bottle in her palm as she stared downwards.

Axtar had promised that though the smoke would knock everyone within a mile out, it wouldn't kill them. Bryce prayed she was right as she slipped the vial through the grate, slipping on a gas mask she had hidden in the compartments of her skirts. It covered her mouth and nose, leaving her eyes free as screams arose from the ballroom, great plumes of grey smoke rising into the air.

She promptly ran from the sight, gas already filling the upstairs levels as she slipped out of the tunnel and hurriedly fixed the portrait back in place.

It was like a living nightmare when she walked down to the ballroom.

Unconscious, fancily-clad bodies lay strewn across the dance floor, grey clouds hovering above their limps forms. Breathing heavily through her mask, she turned to look at Hunt, who had his own mask fixed over his face.

He must have noticed the panicked look in her wide eyes, and he laced his fingers with hers, squeezing gently.