The more I think about it the more I love @harperbrynne 's idea about Vassa and Jurian having a pov in an Elucien book. The story of the human queen and her general has already been laid out for us. The threat the other human queens pose was mentioned back in ACOWAR and in ACOFAS we're told that the fae interfering with the humans would end up creating more distrust between them and make lasting peace that much more difficult.
I love Elain and Lucien end cannot wait for their pov but I have to say, getting the point of views for Vassa and Jurian at the same time would make Eluciens story so much more well-rounded. Their arcs are intertwined, what with their friendship and things they're trying to achieve, and I think that having all four povs would make their book feel that much more epic.
“They sold her—to … to some darkness, to some … sorcerer-lord …” She shook her head. “I can never see him. What he is. There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything … save for them. The girls. He keeps other girls—others so like her—but she … By day, she is one form, by night, human again.” (who are these other girls?)
“Do you know why the other queens cursed her—sold her to him?” Elain studied the table. “No. No—that is all mist and shadow.” (we still don't know the answer to this)
Elain’s throat bobbed. “He keeps them all at the lake.” “Other women like her?” “Yes—and no. Their feathers are white as snow. They glide across the water—while she rages through the skies above it."
Mor said to Rhys, “What information do we have on this sixth queen?” “Little,” Azriel answered for him. “We know little. Young—somewhere in her mid-twenties. Scythia lies along the wall, to the east. It’s smallest amongst the human queens’ realms, but rich in trade and arms. She goes by Vassa, but I never got a report with her full name.” Rhys considered. “She must have posed a considerable threat to the queens if they turned on her. And considering their agenda …”
“Scythia,” Mor said, shaking her head. “I remember them. They’re horse people. A mounted cavalry could travel far faster—”
Jurian was saying to Mor, “They didn’t kill the sixth queen. Vassa. She saw through me—or thought she did—from the start. Warned them against this. Told them that if I was reborn, it was a bad sign, and to rally their armies to face the threat before it grew too large. But Vassa is too brash, too young. She didn’t play the game the way the golden one, Demetra, did. Didn’t see the lust in their eyes when I told them of the Cauldron’s powers. Didn’t know that from the moment I began to spin Hybern’s lies … they became her enemies. They couldn’t kill Vassa—the next in line to her throne is far more willful.
“Yes. But your father, ever the negotiator …” A sad, small smile toward that burnt grass. “He managed to cut a deal with Vassa’s keeper to come here. Temporarily, but … better than nothing. But yes—queen by night, firebird by day.” He blew out a breath. “Nasty curse.”
“The human queens are still out there,” I said. Maybe I’d hunt them down. “Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.”
As we strode back to the camp, Lucien told us of his time away—how he’d hunted for Vassa, how he’d found her already with my father, an army marching westward. How Miryam and Drakon had found them on their own journey to help us. (it might mean nothing but I do think it's interesting how the now keepers of the Cauldron know both Vassa and Lucien).
Vassa’s full mouth tightened. “I am sorry—about your father. He was a great man.” Nesta, striding out of the sitting room, halted at the words. Looked Vassa up and down. Vassa returned the favor. “You are Nesta,” Vassa declared, and I wondered how my father had described her so that Vassa would know. “I am sorry for your loss, too.”
Like his father—his true one. Helion. She went on before I could answer. “I do not have much time left—before I must return to the lake. To him.” To the death-lord who held her leash. “Who is he?” I breathed. Vassa only shook her head, waving a hand as her eyes darkened, and repeated, “Can you break my curse?”
“We shall discuss this later,” she declared. “Along with the threat my fellow queens pose.” My heart stumbled a beat. A cruel smile curved Vassa’s mouth. “They will try to intervene,” she said. “With any sort of peace talks. Hybern sent them back before this battle, but I have no doubt they were smart enough to encourage that. Not to waste their armies here.” “But they will elsewhere?” Nesta demanded. Vassa tossed her smooth sheet of hair over a shoulder. “We shall see. And you will think of ways to help me.” (I never paid much attention to this line but this could be possible foreshadowing for Mor being unable to get the peace treaty signed in Silver Flames).
Jurian leaned against the opposite door frame. “Queen Vassa offered me a place within her court.”
“Vassa knows that the Queens of the Realm will be a threat until they are dealt with,” I said at last. Another tidbit that Lucien had told us.
If we sweep in, even to stop them from triggering another war, we’ll be seen as conquerors, not heroes. We need the humans in other territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace.” “Then perhaps Jurian and Vassa should deal with them. While Vassa is free to do so.”
“The humans must be given a chance to rule themselves. Decide for themselves. Even our allies.”
“I’ll discuss Vassa and Jurian with Lucien when he returns. See if he’s up for another visit.” I angled my head. “Do you think he can handle being around Graysen?”
But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.” I straightened. “Really? Where?” “There’s an old manor house in the southeast, in the humans’ territory. Jurian and Vassa were … gifted it.”
“Rhys mentioned that they were still in Prythian. I didn’t realize it was such a permanent base.” A short nod. “For now. While things are sorted out.” Like the world without a wall. Like the four human queens who still squatted across the continent. But now wasn’t the time to talk of it. “How are they—Jurian and Vassa?” I’d learned enough from Rhys about how Tamlin was faring. I didn’t care to hear any more of it. “Jurian …” Lucien blew out a breath, scanning the carved wood ceiling above. “Thank the Cauldron for him. I never thought I’d say that, but it’s true.” He ran a hand through his silken red hair. “He’s keeping everything running. I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.” I had not forgotten her plea to me that night after the last battle with Hybern. To break the curse that kept her human by night, firebird by day. A once-proud queen—still proud, yes, but desperate to reclaim her freedom. Her human body. Her kingdom. “She and Jurian are getting along?” I hadn’t seen them interact, could only imagine what the two of them would be like in the same room together. Both trying to lead the humans who occupied the sliver of land at the southernmost end of Prythian. Left ungoverned for so long. Too long. No king or queen remained in these lands. No memory of their name, their lineage.
Lucien considered my question. “Vassa and Jurian are two sides of the same coin. Mercifully, their vision for the future of the human territories is mostly aligned. But the methods on how to attain that …” A frown to Elain, then a wince at me. “This isn’t very Solstice-like talk.”
“I’d hoped,” I ventured to say, “that when you rented the apartment, it meant you would come work here. With us. Be our human emissary.” “Am I not doing that now?” He arched a brow. “Am I not sending twice-weekly reports to your spymaster?”
“It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without homes of their own as well.” Lucien stared at me, long and hard. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Happy Solstice to you, Feyre.”
Lucien studied the sitting room, the foyer beyond and dining room on its other side. “The Band of Exiles.” “The what?” “That’s what we call ourselves. The Band of Exiles.” “You have a name for yourselves.” I fought my incredulous tone. He nodded. “Jurian isn’t an exile,” I said. Vassa, yes. Lucien, two times over now. “Jurian’s kingdom is nothing but dust and half-forgotten memory, his people long scattered and absorbed into other territories. He can call himself whatever he likes.” Yes, after the battle with Hybern, after Jurian’s aid, I supposed he could. But I asked, “And what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organize party-planning committees?” Lucien’s metal eye clicked faintly and narrowed. “You can be as much of an asshole as that mate of yours, you know that?”
“Even with Elain here, he’s become close with Jurian and Vassa. He’s voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend.” Cassian went over all he’d heard and observed from his encounters with Lucien since the war, trying to contemplate it like Rhys and Mor would. “He’s spent months helping them sort out the politics of who rules Prythian’s slice of the human lands,” Cassian said slowly. “
“Why haven’t we already contacted Vassa about this?” Mor waved a hand, though her shadowed eyes belied her casual gesture. “Because we’re just now piecing it all together. But you should definitely speak with her, when you can. As soon as you can, actually.”
Cassian nodded. He didn’t dislike Vassa, though meeting her would also entail talking with Lucien and Jurian. The former he’d learned to live with, but the latter … It didn’t matter that it turned out that Jurian had been fighting on their side. That the human general who’d been Amarantha’s tortured prisoner for five centuries had played Hybern after being rebirthed by the Cauldron, and had helped Cassian and his family win the war.
Even more than a year later, the ravages of war lay evident around the estate: trees felled, barren patches of earth where greenery had not yet returned, and a general bleak openness that made the gray-stoned house seem like an accidental survivor. In the moonlight, that starkness was even emptier, the remnants of trees silvered, the shadows in the pockmarked earth deeper. Cassian didn’t know to whom the home had once belonged, and apparently neither did its new occupants. Feyre had told him that they called themselves the Band of Exiles. Cassian snorted to himself at the thought.
From his spot on a ridiculous pink sofa by the far wall, Jurian said, “It only goes to her head when you call her that.” Vassa straightened, her cobalt jacket a sharp contrast to the red-gold of her hair. Of the three redheaded people in this room, Cassian liked her coloring the best: the golden hue of her skin, the large, uptilted blue eyes framed by dark lashes and brows, and the silken red hair, which she’d cut to her shoulders since he’d last seen her. Vassa said to Jurian, “I am a queen, you know.” A queen by night, and firebird by day, sold by her fellow human queens to a sorcerer-lord who had enchanted her. Damned her into transforming each dawn into a bird of fire and ash. Cassian had waited until sundown to visit, so as to find her in her human form. He needed her to be able to speak. Jurian crossed an ankle over a knee, his muddy boots dull in the firelight. “Last I heard, your kingdom was no longer yours. Are you still a queen?”
Vassa’s cerulean eyes darkened. “We were just getting to that, actually.” She gestured to Cassian. “You’ve heard the same rumors we have: they’re stirring again across the sea, and are poised to start trouble.”
But Vassa said, “The queens require no teaching. They were well versed in treachery before they ever contacted Hybern. And have dealt with greater monsters than him.”
“You wonder who is capable of making a unit of Fae soldiers across the sea vanish? Who could give Briallyn the power to winnow—or do it for her? Who could aid Briallyn so she’d be bold enough to do such a thing? Look to Koschei."
Lucien and Jurian looked at her in surprise. But Vassa’s gaze lay upon him. Fear and hatred filled it, as if speaking the male’s name were abhorrent. Her voice hoarsened. “Koschei is no mere sorcerer. He’s confined to the lake only due to an ancient spell. Because he was outsmarted once. Everything he does is to free himself.”
“Why was he imprisoned?” Cassian asked. “The story is too long to tell,” she hedged. “But know that Briallyn and the others sold me to him not through their devices, but his. By words he planted in their courts, whispered on the winds.” “He’s still at the lake,” Lucien said carefully. Lucien had been there, Cassian recalled. Had gone with Nesta’s father to the lake where Vassa was held captive. “Yes,” Vassa said, relief in her eyes. “But Koschei is as old as the sea—older.” “Some say he is Death itself,” Eris murmured. “I do not know if that is true,” Vassa said, “but they call him Koschei the Deathless, for he has no death awaiting him. He is truly immortal. And would know of anything that might give Briallyn an edge against us.” “And you think Koschei would do all of this,” Cassian pressed, “not out of sympathy for the human queens, but with the goal of freeing himself?” “Certainly.” Vassa peered at her hands, fingers flexing. “I fear what may happen if he ever gets free of the lake. If he sees this world on the cusp of disaster and knows he could strike, and strike hard, and make himself its master. As he once tried to do, long ago.” “Those are legends that predate our courts,” Eris said. Vassa nodded. “It is all I have gleaned from my time enslaved to him.” Lucien stared out the window—as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target.
Eris’s face filled with cool amusement. “I wanted to feel out Vassa and Jurian.” He didn’t mention his brother, oddly enough. “But they clearly know little about this.”
Curiosity bit deep, but Nesta said nothing. Vassa—she hadn’t seen the enchanted human queen since the war had ended. Since the young woman had tried to speak to her about how wonderful Nesta’s father had been, how he had been a true father to her, helped her and won her this temporary freedom, and on and on until Nesta’s bones were screaming to get away, her blood boiling to think that her father had found his courage for someone other than her and her sisters. That he’d been the father she had needed—but for someone else. He had let their mother die in his refusal to send his merchant fleet hunting for a cure for her, had fallen into poverty and let them starve, but had decided to fight for this stranger? This nobody queen peddling a sad tale of betrayal and loss?
From Lucien’s grim face, she knew he hadn’t reacted well. Nesta said, “And Jurian and Vassa?” “At each other’s throats, as they like to be,” he said, a tad sharply.
Koschei said, “Tell my Vassa I’m waiting.” His shadows swirled.
When I look back through the series and see how much story there already is for both Vassa and Jurian and how their arcs would tie in perfectly to that of Elain and Lucien's, it makes so much sense for them to possibly be a shared pov in a 4 part novel.
