DISCONTINUED A Court of Blood and Night Rewritten

Aelin

Aelin knew it had to be the dead of night, because she was very, very cold. She was left shivering, practically wrapped head-to-toe in chains, while those holding her captive slept comfortably.

So close-- she'd been so close to getting away a month before, but she'd been caught by a guard, and her carefully orchestrated plan went flying out the window.

So as the world slept, Aelin seethed. Hours before, she had slipped her wrists out of the chains holding her, and had reveled in the feeling of having nothing around them.

Chains weren't the problem. If they were, Aelin would have been long-gone, perhaps back in Terrasen with Rowan and her court. Arobynn had trained her specifically to get out of chains when she was much younger, whether she had to dislocate a wrist, or a shoulder, or do something more drastic to free herself. But now that Maeve had stopped with the pampering, Aelin had grown awfully thin, and slipping out of the cuffs was easy.

No, chains weren't the issue, Aelin reflected furiously. It was this rutting box.

The iron coffin was built to keep someone inside. That meant there was no way out unless someone let her out. She could push and hit all she wanted, but all it did was leave her knuckles bloody, since the iron sapped her strength.

Most nights, when she slept she dreamed she had gotten out, that she was back in Terrasen, her wounds healed and the War over. But then she woke up, cold digging into her bones and wounds aching, and reality gripped her like a vice.

Reality rutting sucked.

Aelin felt her thoughts wander, as they often did. Fenrys had promised to find her a way out, after the last plan had failed: scare Maeve into thinking Aelin would destroy the keys if she didn't let her go.

But Maeve had figured it out days into Aelin's capture that she didn't possess the Wyrdkeys, and had been angry enough that she'd sent a dozen scouts to find Manon and kill her before stealing the keys.

Much to Aelin's satisfaction, each one of them had come back in pieces, and none of those pieces had a Wyrdkey with them.

She wondered how well Manon had rallied the Crochans, or if she was still working on it. Perhaps the Crochans wouldn't be convinced. What if Manon failed?

And what of Aedion and the others? How well was Lysandra keeping up on pretending to be her? Aedion would likely have figured it out by now. Was he upset with her? And what about her mate? Would Rowan understand?

Her heart twisted in her chest. Letting her thoughts wander always had potential to remind her of him. She was so grateful for the time she'd had with him, but she couldn't help but wish she had more of it. More time to live and be with him. But even if Maeve hadn't kidnapped her, Elena had laid out Aelin's fate clearly enough.

Born to die. How cynical.

With a shuddering breath, Aelin leaned her head back until it rested against the bottom of the coffin. While dying scared the rutting hell out of her, she was more concerned about how Rowan would deal with it. He had already lost Lyria, and was in pain for centuries, wandering aimlessly-- what would he do when he lost her, too? The possibilities were terrifying.

Aelin tried to calm herself by listening to the night critters outside the box, and found a short-term relief from the agonizing ideas running through her head.

Rowan would be okay. He had to be.

Aelin closed her eyes, and was ready to drift into an uneasy sleep. But something heavier than any night creature she'd ever heard approached the coffin, and her breathing hitched. It had to be a human, or Fae, or--

There was a loud rattling as the creature messed with the lock, the sound explosive in her ears, for several minutes. Metal would slide against metal, and she'd wince at the sound. When it stopped, she wondered for a tense stretch of time if the creature had given up. But then, after a few minutes, the sounds started up again.

Her heart beat faster, fear beginning to take hold. Fenrys hadn't warned her of a new escape plan, so he wasn't the one outside the iron box that caged her in. The possibilities were almost endless. It could be her court, here to rescue her. Or it could be someone coming to kill her. Or maybe it was something else-- something worse.

After several heartbeats, the clanking stopped, and Aelin heard chains dropping away. What was going on? All around her, there was silence. Surely a Fae guard would have heard all the noise and come to investigate?

Or maybe it was Cairn or Maeve, using some new tactic in attempt to break her. Aelin's hands curled into fists. As long as she was alive, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius would not break.

The coffin door swung open silently, and there was a grunt as the creature carefully set the heavy iron door on the ground, their silhouette outlined by the bright night sky that Aelin had to look away from; Her eyes weren't used to anything but stark darkness. Not Cairn or Maeve, then-- not if they were trying to be so stealthy.

No, this person wasn't Fae at all, she realized, heart beating faster as her eyes adjusted to the dim light the moon and stars provided and she could look up again. The figure straightened, looming over her.

His facial features were mostly obscured by the darkness, but Aelin didn't need the light of day to tell her who it was. She knew the way he moved, his skill sets that would have aided him so well in this mission, and she knew he didn't care who or what she was, because while she'd called him in due to debt, they were friends. At least, she hoped they still were.

Eyes that she knew to be gray met her's, and her rescuer held out a hand to help her up. After a moment of trying to remember how to move, she took his hand and stood on legs that trembled like a newborn fawn's. She stepped out of the coffin, noting that the guards stationed around her were all laying on the ground limply. There was no blood. Poison, perhaps?

She looked back at him, noting that he'd allowed his dark hair to grow slightly longer, and in the time they hadn't been in contact, he'd filled out. He stared back at her, noting the changes quickly and saving them for later.

"I got your letter," Nox Owen said with a grim smile. "And I think it's best that we get you out of here."