Hellfire

Aelin

Aelin led the group back inside, her court first, then the Southern Continent entourage. Nesryn pointed them out as they walked through the castle. Hasar, Satarq's sister and leader of the Armada; Hafiza, the Head Healer at the Torre, followed by a few high up healers from the same building (Nesryn told her they had brought three hundred of them); a few commanders of the cavalry and footmen, Yrene and Chaol, and Arghun, the eldest brother and general of the footmen and cavalry. Aelin almost stumbled into a doorframe as Nesryn told her they had brought a thousand ruks, and that this force with the combined footmen, cavalry, and ships, was only half of the strength the Southern Continent planned to offer them.

"Thank you," she told the woman quietly. "Don't thank me yet," Nesryn warned. Aelin nodded slightly as Aedion took the lead and brought the group into the main dining hall, the mass of people now too large for the council room. Morgan and Satarq trailed behind the last of them, monitoring the proceedings. Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Aelin turned in time to see Darrow burst into the room, face red, but drained of color as the entire congregation turned to stare at him.

"Just who is this?" trilled a voice, and Aelin noted Hasar as she breezed forward, assessing him. Darrow looked at her with something akin to rage.

"You have no right to address me that way," he said, voice rising. Morgan stepped forward, drawing his attention.

"And you have no right to address a Princess of the Southern Continent with that tone of voice," she replied smoothly, staring into Darrow's eyes with the promise of a slow, agonizing death if he didn't check himself.

Hasar eyed Morgan, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"Oh, I like you already," she purred. Morgan cast a wicked smile at the woman.

"Darrow, if you would like to join us, you may find a chair, but if not," drawled Aedion from the back of the room. His turquoise eyes latched onto Darrow's. "Get out." Hasar eyed Aedion.

"The legendary insolence of Aedion Ashryver finally makes an appearance," she chirped, facing Aelin's cousin. Aedion's answering smile was nothing short of vicious as he eyed the small woman facing him. Aelin swore she heard Chaol mutter a plea for mercy.

"Weylan Darrow," Aelin crooned, propping an elbow against Morgan's shoulder. "As much I would love it for you to join us, I'm afraid my friends from the Southern Continent want a word with me and my court privately, so..." She let her sentence trail off, giving Darrow a viper's smile. A clear dismissal. Darrow's face went blood red.

"You little bitch," he snarled, pointing a finger in her face. "Who says you get to-"

That was all he got to say. Then he was choking, clawing at his throat. Satarq's eyes widened, and the tittering in the room stopped. Darrow's face slowly turned a shade of blue.

"You can't kill him, Rowan," Aelin sighed, turning to look at her mate, whose eyes were indeed boring into Darrow's face as if he could tunnel a way through his head.

"Rowan," she said again, striding towards him. She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her.

"That's enough," she said quietly. Distantly, she heard Darrow thump to the ground, gasping for breath.

"I won't let him call you names again," he snarled.

"I've been called worse by many other people, and probably will get called more terrible things by the time this war is over. Darrow, I'm sure, has learned his lesson," she called over her shoulder, releasing Rowan to stalk over to Darrow, who was lying on the ground, peering up at her with hate growing in his eyes. She crouched down, letting the gold in her eyes flicker to flame.

"You need our alliance Darrow, or we will wipe you off the face of the earth. It's a good thing," she continued, smiling maliciously at him, "that we need you for this war, or you'd have been dead long ago. So stop sneering at my wedding ring, and get the hell out before I make Morgan roast you within an inch of death."

Morgan was indeed inching towards him, that dastardly fire beginning to encircle her fingers. Fear warred with the hate in his icy blue eyes, and he slowly drew himself up, looked at the power of people she'd amassed, and walked out. He stopped a few feet out of the door, and turned to say something that was surely going to be incredibly damning, but Aelin just looked at Morgan, the order simmering in her eyes. Morgan looked gleeful as she sent her hellfire snaking on the floor, not burning a thing, but streaking towards where Darrow stood. His words died in his throat and he ran. Aelin laughed, gave a mocking little wave, and shut the doors.

"Well, it seems I'll never be bored around here," Hasar laughed.

"Certainly not, I'd hate for my guests to be bored," Aelin trilled in answer. Hasar's dark eyes simmered as they took her in.

"Welcome to Terrasen," Aelin continued, taking a seat with her court. "I assume you have much to tell me."

A lot of nodding.

"Well then, start at the beginning."