Throne of Glass and ACOTAR Crossover (complete)

Chapter 12 - Aelin

After Feyre left, Rhys following her barely 10 minutes later, Az led Rowan and I down yet another hall and into a library. When I saw it my jaw hit the floor, almost literally.

I've never seen anything quite as lovely. It's larger than the one at home, larger than any library I've ever seen. We wandered around, gathering every book  that looked like it might be of use, then we settled down at a table in the middle of the room.

Which brings us to right now. I slam the cover of the book that I was scanning through closed. It's a dead end, another one. Rowan is sitting across from me, a tome open in front of him. he hasn't gotten anywhere either, but he seems to be dealing with his frustration better than I am. I hate research. I can't kill research to fix it. I can't threaten information into appearing. It takes patience, something I don't possess much of. It isn't helping my temper that Azriel hasn't read a single line since we sat down. He said he was going to help us, but he's just sitting there with his eyes closed. 

Fed up with everything, I take the book I was reading and throw it at his head. Rowan's head shoots up, his reproachful eyes meeting mine. I don't have time to regret it, or apologize, before the book touches him Az's hand shoots and catches the thing out of midair. "That wasn't polite." he says, "Especially since I am trying to help you."

"help us!" I say, incredulous, "You've done nothing since we got here, you've just sat there. So unless you've got magic little birdies that come and whisper secrets in your ears..."

he lets out a bark of a laugh. "Something like that." he says. 

I roll my eyes. "Well, it you've been doing so much, than what have you figured out?"

"Well," he says, "I can tell you that the portal was  not created by any high lord of Prythian, nor by any of the high ranking members in their respective courts. I can tell you that the power used to create it originated in this land, which rules out somebody on your end creating it. What have you figured out?"

For a moment I'm speechless, a condition I don't find myself in often. To try to pass it off I roll my eyes and scoff out a laugh. Az looks at me for a minute, then just closes his eyes again. I pull my eyebrows together. I don't like being brushed off. I'm about to say something, but just then the door to the library bursts open, revealin Rhys standing in the doorway looking like the hounds of hell are on his heals. 

Az is on his feet immediately, "What?" he asks. his face is a mask, but under it I can see the terror. 

Rhys looks more out of control than I've ever seen him. He at once seems furious and scared. "In the woods, Feyre, get the others, then follow us." 

Az nods his head gravely, and walks out of the room at a quick pace. Rhys turns to Rowan and I. "This one is all hands on deck. Take my arm, come on!"

Usually I would have argued, partially because i don't like people giving me orders and partially because I really don't want to winnow, as it seems to be called, ever again. But the desperation in Rhys' voice, I can't ignore it. It's the same sound I made when Rowan took an arrow for me. It's the way I imagined his voice sounding after Maeve took me. And as much as Feyre confuses and scares me, she hasn't hurt us, she hasn't threatened us, she's helped us and kept us safe. If she's in trouble she has earned our help. 

I give Rowan a quick nod and grab Rhys' outstretched arm. Rowan, after a moment's brief hesitation does the same. Then we are encompassed by black and cold before emerging into a snow covered clearing. 

Standing at the center is Feyre, her hood drawn up over her face and her hands raised. Around her are dozens of men, mortals. They are holding bows armed with wooden arrows. Each of their arrows is aimed at Feyre's chest. 

I motion Rowan with my hand, and he sends his wind coursing down to her and forms an invisible shield. Feyre must notice though, because she casts a quick look up at us. There is no recognition in her gaze, no hope. In fact, there is a pain in her expression that I can't identify. Like she doesn't know if she wants help or wants to let the attackers kill her.

Suddenly the rest of the people that I met in the night court are beside us, arms linked together. They take in the scene before them quickly, then Cass swears under his breath.

Amren's eyebrows crease together. "Why hasn't she burned them to a crisp?" she asks.

It's Rhys who answers, his voice soft and sad. "Because her father is in that group. And because she think that they're right to want her dead."

Mor shoots him a confused look. "It's her sisters." he clarifies, "He blames her for what happened to Elain and Nesta. And so does she."

Mor's eyes sadden, then harden again. "Fine" she says, "If Feyre won't save herself, then we'll have to save her"

"Let me" I say.

Everybody looks at me, they don't know what I can do. They don't know if they should trust me with their High Lady's life. I don't blame them, I truly don't but this is something I can do. Rhys studies me for a long moment, then lets his eyes drift back to his mate, alone and dying. He nods. 

And I set the clearing on fire.  

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