Rattle the Stars

Chapter 10

A/N: OMG... #3 in acotar, and 517 reads? Thank you so much for reading this story! This is huge for me as a new writer! P.S: This is going to be shorter than my usual chappies. Mostly just filler fighting I guess?.... but the ending needed to be written so- enjoy!

Instantly, Rhys was in front of Feyre, shielding her. Aelin reached for her magic, desperately trying to push away her weariness and headache, but the more she did so the worse it got. Devlon laughed, bitter and cold. His eyes were black, the revealed ring on his finger glinting in the weak sun.

"Faebane." He drawled. "Just enough in the air, on the wind, that by now... you're weak; your powers are no more than the average fae's. Even your's, High Lord." He spit the final two words like a curse. Aelin felt hate boil in her gut, but it never sparked any flame.

Little did they know she was still an assassin. She had fought in worse conditions than this. They were all warriors, but without magic... she had damned herself, letting her magic become such a crutch. Readying herself, she watched Lysandra strain, trying to shift into something to assist them.

Nothing. Only Aedion looked completely unworried. He was the only one who didn't have magic and was not weakened by the faebane. Aelin would have already begun to fight, except for two things. One, if she moved, even with Rhys Feyre would get hurt. Two. This was a good portion of the Night Court's army. To kill them... they had to.

Or they would die, and Aelin was not going to leave Terrasen without a queen. But she would not give up. Raising her blade, she watched the Inner Circle draw their weapons, and her own court ready themselves.

Valg. Every single Illyrian had been corrupted by Mantyx into Valg. "Why?" She rasped. "What did he tell you he would give you, what lies did he feed you, to make you go against your own High Lord?" Devlon snorted. "Oh, yes, Aelin Fire-Bringer. A legend. You know, I always expected you to have more power. Shame that you'll be killed by the Kings so early."

The Kings? As in... oh, absolutely brilliant. Erawan and Mantyx. Wonderful. "They want you alive, you know. The Kings and his Queen." The Valg had taken over Devlon's voice, turning oily and dark with power. It sounded like a Valg Prince, but only a ring resided on his finger.

Or maybe the prick had such a weak will towards this sort of thing that he didn't need it, though it was unlikely given Cassian's grumbled stories. A sickening feeling rose in her gut, bringing up bile. The Endovier overseer, with his heart of Wyrdstone.

There was no redeeming this man. In a movement so fast few saw it, she flung her dagger Aelin had been palming. It struck with a thump, hard and true, and Devlon's face went slack with surprise, his eyes clearing for just a moment.

Every face in the camp turned to her. Azriel looked furious, the most emotional she had ever seen him. Despite their claims, the Illyrians hadn't moved. "He could have been saved-"

"No." Her voice was cold and unfeeling, and Fenrys looked at her. "Aelin-"

"I said no. They gave him a Wyrdstone heart." Aedion and Rowan stilled, Lysandra looking like she was going to be sickened. Suddenly, the gathered crowd moved, and every one of the warriors spawned weapons of dark magic. Cassian and Azriel glared at the shields and weapons.

The blast that ensued knocked her back a few steps, black energy that came from the combined Illyrian forces. She lashed out with Goldryn, watching the ruby glow with it's own internal light. Closing her eyes, Aelin drew on the lessons of the Red Desert, striking out with her blade and cutting down each warrior. For most, if she could see them in the magical darkness, they had thanks in their eyes.

Some, however, had honest hate. Whirling, she blocked a knife coming for her and sliced it out of the sky, in the same movement rolling between the legs of another Illyrian. Slowly, as they fought, she came to a conclusion. She was powerful, Adarlan's assassin, but she could not fight against an entire camp of brutal warriors enhanced by the Valg.

Sweeping her sword in a arc, she felled another, and pulled back, the sky all at once lightening. In the moment of brightness, she blinked, disoriented. It cost her dearly. In a moment, they were upon her, and she heard her friends cry out as she was sliced across the calf, gasping in pain.

She hit the muddy ground, and a Illyrian with long stringy hair raised his sword jerkily. She could see in his eyes he was fighting it. Aelin took a breath, when- a blade went through his chest, and Fenrys was behind him, panting. "Are you alright?" He gasped. She nodded, and he was gone again. The mud on her slice burned.

The others all seemed worn, draining faster than they should have been. And... For everything they had done, no one saw the blade slicing towards Feyre, slipping past her guard. Even Aelin didn't see it, busy as she was with the Illyrian around her. But Rowan saw it. Rowan saw it, and threw himself in front of the blade, to save another's mate because he knew of the pain.

Memories of another time, on a crumbling island, surrounded by witches flashed in her mind, when her mate and carranam had taken an arrow for her. Aelin let out a scream as the blade sank deep into his gut, and fell to her knees. "Not again," She whimpered. "Not again."

Sooooo I try my hardest not to be evil with the cliffhangers but I just can't help myself :)