Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, had been quite content cleaning her ancestral sword and savouring a rare five minutes by herself in the forest clearing they had chosen as their camp that night. She could easily have spent hours with her mind steeped in daydreams and plans, lulled by the rhythmic movement of cloth on metal, but her attention was diverted by the emergence of Evangeline from the woods. The child's hands encircled a wooden husk; the half-shell of some unidentifiable fruit. She made her way to where the queen sat and proffered it.

Aelin swept her mind of the memory she had been reliving — a sidelong look Rowan had given her two nights previous, a particular look that spoke of particular future plans that set her blood thrumming — and rose to her feet. She tilted her head at the offering.

"What's this?"

The scars that marked each cheek puckered as Evangeline smiled.

"It's a drink I made for you from things I found in the woods." The girl was looking at her with eyes full of a pride so light with innocence that Aelin would rather have sliced off her own hand than decline. She had barely accepted the half-shell when a flash of light alerted her to Rowan's presence. The Fae warrior was poised directly over her shoulder.

"Are you planning on drinking that?"

Aelin glanced at Evangeline, a tinge of alarm now colouring the girl's expression; the shifting was something she still hadn't quite become used to, particularly when the end product was a creature at least four times her size and sporting quite an impressive spread of tattoos. Aelin gave Rowan a pointed look. "Of course I am. Evangeline made it especially for me. It's —"

She looked into the cup, then at the child. The girl furrowed her brow, chewing at her lip as she considered the question.

"Woodland nectar." She chanced a smile along with her conclusion. Aelin nodded as if this had been the obvious answer.

"There you have it. Woodland nectar. How could I resist such a treat?"

Rowan's gaze fell on Evangeline and he cleared his throat. "As delicious as that sounds, I'm going to insist on smelling it first. In case — in case I miss the chance to appreciate the fine work that went into it."

And to make sure some of that fine work did not include potentially poisonous ingredients, no doubt.

He sniffed with such vigour that a strangled sound of protest escaped Aelin's throat, fearing some of the drink to be lost to Rowan's nostrils. As he lowered the shell, his eyes found hers.

"It smells like you did on those Wendlyn rooftops."

Aelin quirked a brow. "Well. I'm sure this nectar's never received such a compliment." She took the shell and shot him a glare; countered, as it so often was, by the amusement that danced behind his eyes. I'm going to make you pay for that one, buzzard.

I'm counting on it, Fireheart.

Aedion had emerged from the woods, watching with more than a hint of dubiety as Rowan performed his olfactory test. He extended a dinner-plate hand towards the warrior and eyed the shell as though it had threatened them with bloody warfare. "I think I'll inspect that too, if you wouldn't mind."

Aelin shook her head, more out of mild exasperation than to issue a command. "Why? Scared Evangeline's secretly out to poison us?"

Evangeline's eyes grew large, flickering from Aedion to Aelin and back.

Aedion gave the girl a wink. "Of course not. I'm worried Rowan hasn't made enough of a fuss of Evangeline's magnificent display of resourcefulness."

He took a long sniff, large nose crinkling. "Ah — I — when you said it smelled like Aelin, I assumed you'd meant —"

"That it would be absolutely delicious." Rowan nodded, giving Aedion a rare flash of his elongated canines. "Please do proceed, Aelin."

The shell found its way back into Aelin's hand and she lifted it to her nose. As it came within ten inches of her face she had to fight to keep her features neutral. Good gods above, it smelled like unwashed laundry and fermenting cheese. She was quite sure bits of twigs and leaves were floating in the top. All eyes were on her, waiting for her to imbibe this child's concoction, those that bore most weight being the sparkling citrine eyes of Evangeline herself.

A dark grin stole across Aelin's face and she turned to lock the males in a gaze that held more than a bite of challenge. "Upon consideration, I think we should share it."

"Oh no." Rowan held up a hand. "You said that Evangeline made it especially for you."

"Yes, but—" Aelin turned her smile on the child. "With all the praise these two are giving out, it seems unfair not to give them a taste. What do you think?"

Evangeline shrugged one shoulder, her eyes finding the earth. "I don't mind. I only made enough for one cup though. And I did make it specially for you."

Well, gods be damned. Aelin supposed she would have to be the sole drinker, then. The two bastards behind her were going to get much more pleasure out of this than was acceptable; she could feel their smirks hot on her back as she raised the cup to her lips.

One large mouthful, no breath through her nose, a quick swallow, and it was gone. She was sure she felt a piece of bark attempt to lodge itself in her windpipe as it went. When she allowed air back through her nostrils, the taste overwhelmed her; gods, it was foul. Mud and rot and metal and an underlying sweetness that wasn't quite powerful enough to emerge victorious amongst the filth. She bared her teeth at Evangeline in what she hoped was a close enough imitation of an appreciative smile.

How was it that this clever young child had believed such sludge to be drinkable? Not only drinkable, but fit for presentation to a queen.

The howl that came from behind her nearly sent her reaching for her daggers.

She turned to see Aedion slapping his knee, face split into a beam that could cast an entire city into light, his laughter bellowing into the nighttime air. Rowan too was grinning, his teeth glimmering in the firelight, more akin to Imp than Fae.

Aelin whipped her head to see Evangeline concealing an onslaught of giggles behind her hand, eyes alight with a mischief tinged by only the slightest sliver of apology. Aelin's mouth dropped open.

"You scheming demons!" She rounded on the males. "You're behind this?"

"I owe you." Aedion was shaking his head at Rowan. "I really didn't think she would."

Rowan's lips curved higher in acknowledgment, his smile that of a man in on some secret with himself.

"You placed a bet on me?" Aelin folded her arms, trying to contort her expression into one of sheer rage; despite years of practice, it was surprisingly difficult when faced with a guffawing general and a Fae warrior sparking with rare mischief.

"Evangeline, excellent work." Aedion straightened and held up a massive hand, to which Evangeline skipped and met with her own tiny counterpart. "You have to admit, cousin, this girl is quite the actress. I didn't think you'd yield so easily."

"I don't —" Aelin let out a snarl. "Tell me: was there a point to this exercise, or was it just a couple of boys thinking it'd be funny to make their friend drink mud?"

"And some berries, and a bit of rust, and some of Fleetfoot's saliva," Evangeline chirped, now that she was sure it was safe and the queen wasn't going to issue a berating that would very possibly include flames. Aelin felt her stomach clench.

"Fleetfoot—" She looked to the dog, who had padded from the trees with Lysandra to curl up by the fire. "Traitorous hound!"

Fleetfoot heaved a contented sigh and didn't so much as cock an ear, quite unaware of her role in the betrayal of her mistress.

"You're all disgusting." Aelin poked out her tongue and rubbed, as if it would remove the taste, but not having washed her hands since that morning it did more harm than good. "Gods above." She huffed out a breath and levelled them all in a glare. "Right, you conspiratorial fiends. Just for that, you're on dinner duty tonight. And it had better be the most fabulous feast we've had in weeks, or else."

After indulging their self-congratulatory chuckling a while longer the males set off on a scavenger hunt, delighting Evangeline by allowing her to come with them. The girl took off skipping, a flickering wisp flanked by two solid pillars of muscle, borne on their approval and satisfaction at having played her part so well. Aelin threw herself down beside the fire, keeping her expression stony until they'd disappeared into the trees, and then she allowed herself a small, slow grin, shaking her head.

It was so rare to have these sort of days; days of childish tricks and laughter, days where the weight of the entire world wasn't bearing down on her shoulders, crushing her into the earth. They had but one immediate goal — reach Terrasen — and, in that, they were offered a brief, necessary respite. Her heart was lighter than she could ever remember it being, even with the dooming shadows that gathered on the horizon.

"It's good for her."

She hadn't realised Lysandra had shifted back into her human form. It was rare these days to see her sporting the beautiful features she had been confined to for so many years. Lysandra was more than content experimenting with whatever animal form took her fancy, all of which seemed to share a common knack for pestering Aedion. The woman was staring into the woods where the three had disappeared, and her eyes were storms and sorrow.

Aelin tilted her head. "What is?"

"To laugh like that. To be able to play and make silly potions. To be a child for a while." Lysandra sighed and brought her gaze back to fire. "Gods know she needs it."

Aelin did not respond but moved closer to her friend, resting her hand on hers. She bit back a grumble about being tricked into drinking dirt and dog spit and instead said, "You've done more for that girl than even you realise."

Lysandra's lips curved into a small smile. It was the saddest expression Aelin had seen her wear.

"Not enough, though. It will never be enough. How can you repay a stolen childhood?"

Aelin tipped her face towards the stars. "You don't." She herself had been lucky, she supposed, to get eight years. Some people had received far less. All deserved more. She squeezed Lysandra's hand. "We know that."

Lysandra rested her chin on her knee in silent agreement.

"You just —" Aelin swallowed. "We keep going. We have to keep going. And what we're doing now — what we're moving towards, what we're facing — we're doing it for children like Evangeline. So another generation doesn't grow up without their childhood."

"That's what we're doing by starting into war?" Lysandra loosed a breath. "Because it seems as if, for a while, we're going wind up doing the the exact opposite. Fathers taken, mothers gone, destroying homes and burning cities. This world is going to go to hell and farther before we crawl out the other side."

"But we will crawl out the other side. And if we were to lose heart, decide not to face into this — well." Aelin didn't need to detail the end of her sentence. Didn't need to use words to construct a picture of what the Vlag King would do, how this world would become a place more horrifying than all the wars that ever were and ever could be.

Aelin clenched her jaw. She would not think of what was to come; the terror, the bloodshed. Would not think of what sort of otherworldly wrath would befall the lands and seas when they waged their war with whatever horrors brewed in Morath. She would not think of it tonight.

Instead, she would claim one of her final nights of peace, a night she could remember not for death and fighting and fear, but for a mischievous trick and Aedion's sonorous laugh and Rowan's heart-flipping smile.

So she poked her tongue out when the three came back clutching three limp rabbits caught by Rowan's talons and pockets bursting with berries, ignored the males' teasing, and set about constructing a spit on which to roast their dinner.

They sprawled beneath the winking stars that night, Fleetfoot and Lysandra in her black labrador form flanking Evangeline, Aedion propping his head against a particularly mossy log, Aelin leaning in to Rowan's embrace, the weight of his hands warm on her legs, her waist, tantalising in their promise of what was to follow in the coming weeks.

She did not think of Dorian and Chaol as Rowan's voice rumbled through her bearing stories of centuries past; she did not think of Arobynn and Perrington as Aedion cracked absurdly dreadful 'a Fae walks into a tavern' jokes; did not think of Endovier and Nehemia as Lysandra recounted various ludicrous encounters with Clarisse's clientele, and she did not think of Sam and Erawan as Evangeline sang them a song she had made up as they travelled, her girlish voice rising and falling in its attempts to rhyme the story of a lost Queen, a beautiful woman with a steel will and heart of gold, a warrior who waited ten years for his family to return to him, and a Fae prince who held the promise of unyielding security in a world that had never offered her a shred.

They drifted off one by one bathed in the warmth of immortal flames that night, all but Aelin, who was to keep watch. Their nights and days so often did not belong to them, any of them, but tonight felt like theirs and theirs alone.

Her fingers found the Eye of Elena where it rested just above her heart and her eyes took their time meandering over the sleeping faces of the people - and animals - she loved most in the world.

Yes — war was coming, and Death loomed, and unspeakable monsters grew teeth and nails and thrashed in embryo somewhere in Morath, and they would face it all when it was time, to whatever end.

But tonight they could sleep, and dream, and sip small sips at the sweet promise of the future.