They'd been on the gods-damned ship for twelve weeks.

Twelve weeks, Chaol, Yrene, Nesryn, Sartaq, Hasar, Borte, and Hafiza had been sailing through the Narrow Sea. And only then, only after those twelve weeks had passed, did they encounter another fleet.

The water around them certainly lived up to its name, Chaol thought, as the ships in their armada were forced to even into two columns to pass through, in over 200 rows. His heart contracted again as he glanced back at it, the progress he'd made. And they still hadn't even collided with the khagan's other half yet.

Chaol found himself glancing to the other thing he'd undoubtedly managed to accomplish. Yrene was already smiling back at him, as if she'd been waiting for him to look at her. She wouldn't have had to have been waiting long; Chaol always found himself looking at her. It had been so long since that night deep under the Torre and yet he still so easily beheld the hope she represented.

"Do you think it's them?" she asked, and though she hid it easily, he heard the curiosity and excitement deeply unfurling within her. Ever since he'd told her that her mystery savior had been Aelin herself, Yrene had been dying to meet her.

Chaol ran an eye up and down her body. Not because he wanted to bed her—they'd done enough of that the night before—but because he almost tricked himself into believing he could see the hope in her, falling off her in radiating, bright waves.

So he replied, "I hope so."

. . .

As it turns out, his hope had proved true. It was only an hour after Hasar had originally spotted that other fleet through her binoculars—perhaps 20 miles away—that Kadara had come soaring towards them. Chaol hopped into a row boat with Yrene and they sailed quickly toward where Sartaq had landed his great mount just on the shore.

Chaol still considered it a miracle that his muscles were not even sore by the time they reached them. By the fact that he could move his muscles enough to reach Sartaq in the first place.

"What did you see?" Chaol asked, before the boat had even gotten close enough for Sartaq to hear.

But he understood. "It is unbelievably large, but not all together."

"What do you mean?" Yrene asked before Chaol could.

"I mean there is a small fleet of Whitethorn ships, a large armada from the Red Desert, an even bigger one form Wendlyn," Sartaq explained, and then paused. "But the largest section of all of them comes from Terrasen."

Then it was confirmed. Here was Aelin and her court of ragtags and Fae, and heroes, all of them perhaps responsible for the winning of this great war ahead of them. Here was Dorian. His king. His best friend. His brother.

"Oh," Sartaq added with a playful smirk. "And a colossal host of wyverns."

. . .

According to Sartaq, Nesryn had gone ahead to signal the leading ship to dock, so that Chaol and his group could board, for they had much to discuss. Once Yrene and Chaol had rejoined that group aboard their own boat, they all heard the triumphant call of Salkhi, Nesryn's own ruk. He watched as she circled a few times over a particular spot of land, signaling Chaol to dock there. Then, the ruk landed.

Chaol's very bones were buzzing at the thought that they would finally be reuniting with Aelin. She would have a full army, not just the few Fae warriors he'd left her with. And Dorian…

Chaol could still barely comprehend that Dorian was safe. But they idea that he would soon be able to protect his king himself, ensure that he would never be harmed…Chaol had to choke back tears.

Yrene squeezed his hand in understanding. He grinned fiercely. He could wait for them to meet.

"Finally," sneered Hasar from behind them. "Some answers. Oh, and Lord Westfall, would you tell me about the Wolf of the North? He rather intrigues me."

Judging by the mischievous look on the princess' face, this was a meeting Chaol was not looking forward too.

It seemed to take days for Chaol's fleet to reach Aelin's. Yrene kept chiding him, explaining that if he wasn't fidgeting so damn hard, the time would likely go faster. But he couldn't help it. Finally, something he could be proud of. He could clasp arms with Rowan again and be doing it on his feet. He could stand next to Dorian and feel their shoulders touch. He could get readjusted to towering inches over Aelin.

This was everything he'd been waiting for.

Suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, Chaol whirled gracefully on his heel and took Yrene by the waist, pulling her into a deep kiss. She gave a startled laugh and then wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel her smiling against his own lips.

Hasar gave a pointed cough. Chaol had forgotten she'd been waiting for information on the Wolf of the North. Surely, Aedion's head would explode when Chaol told him he was renowned not just in Adarlan, but the Southern Continent as well.

"Nothing really to know. He's cocky and territorial, but he makes up for it in his army skills. I suppose," Chaol begrudged. Hasar grunted at the lack of information and stormed away.

He and Yrene couldn't help but laugh.

Chaol was not nervous when they stepped off their ship, hours later, he was not nervous as he walked the few minutes in the direction of Aelin's fleet. He was not scared of these people. With Yrene clasping his hand, he was not even scared of Erawan. Or Maeve.

But something stirred deep in his gut when he beheld Rowan standing there to greet him, not Aelin.

"You're walking," Rowan commented, nodding grimly. There was something very off about the male, something even grumpier than he usually was. He gave Yrene one pitiful glance before he nodded and walked onto the ship, his sword clanging against his leg.

"Hello to you, too," Chaol muttered under his breath before he tugged Yrene after him as they followed Rowan. He was barely aware that Nesryn and the others were following as well. But he was entirely aware that Rowan heard his sarcastic comment. And perhaps Chaol had done it to startle a reaction of the prince. Even just a snarl, or a sneer. But he just kept on walking.

But all thoughts emptied Chaol's head when he heard a voice as familiar as Yrene's, calling to him from the deck of the ship.

And though his muscles had indeed begun to grow sore with the constant boarding and getting off of large ships, Chaol did not care one bit as he begun to run as fast as he could—on a ship—towards Dorian.

All formalities, also, left his mind in that moment, it seemed.

He only caught a flash of tousled black hair and a signature, winning smile before Chaol had the prince in his arms.

Waves of emotion coursed through him as Dorian wrapped his arms around Chaol, in turn. He was alive and well. Healthy. Happy. Not angry at Chaol. And Chaol…he was taller than Dorian. He'd forgotten that.

Dorian had been saying things, but Chaol didn't start hearing them until he finally pulled away. "You've been healed. You've done it," Dorian commented, awestruck.

Chaol lowered his head, a grin on his face. Than he gestured with an arm toward the fleet he'd brought. "I brought you an army, as well."

Dorian did look, take it all in. His eyes widened, as if he hadn't even seen it yet. But when he turned back at Chaol, there was silver lining his eyes.

Chaol understood. Deeply. But he gave the king a chance to compose himself before he stepped aside, saying, "I'd like you to meet someone."

Dorian put his famed smile back on as he beheld Yrene. Chaol chuckled a little at the look in her eye; she clearly hadn't been expecting to be introduced so soon.

Well, then she didn't understand how much she meant to him yet. He'd have to emphasize that later.

"This is Yrene," Chaol explained as she bowed slightly. "All of this," Chaol gestured to his legs, the armada they'd brought. "It's because of her."

"Then I owe you my life," Dorian said and he stepped forward to take her hand.

"I-I haven't done anything for you, yet, Your Majesty," Yrene sputtered, and Chaol fought against his amused grin even though she wasn't looking at him.

"You saved my brother," Dorian countered smoothly. And he knew—they both knew—that she had only made him walk. But Dorian ad Yrene were both aware that to Chaol, he did not have a life he could not effectively fight for those he loved. "That is a life debt, in my mind."

And he lowered to press a kiss to her hand.

That's when Dorian caught sight of the ring on her finger.

He whirled, not dropping Yrene's outstretched hand, to Chaol. "My gods!" he exclaimed. It could have been a ring to any man, but Dorian had also registered the matching one on Chaol's hand. "And you didn't even invite me to the wedding?"

Chaol spread his arms as if asking, What can I say? "We were on a bit of a stretch for time, Your Majesty."

Dorian tipped back his head and laughed, finally releasing Yrene's hand. "Well, either way, congratulations, brother."

Chaol nodded his head in thanks.

Rowan pointedly coughed behind them. Chaol turned and suddenly felt very immature for the time they'd taken to forget the war and hurt in the very air surrounding them. "We have business to attend to, do we not?"

And with that, Rowan stomped off deeper into the ship, expecting them to follow.

As they did, Chaol looked back to Dorian once more. "What's wrong?" He asked him.

Dorian tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace—at least, it did to Chaol. "This is war, Chaol," he covered up. "Everyone is on edge."

But any happiness that had been there just seconds before…not one ounce of it was left.

. . .

Just ten minutes later, they were all sitting in the biggest room on the ship, which was still not very big. And by everyone, he meant everyone.

The most important people of Chaol's group: him, Yrene, Nesryn, Sartaq, and Hasar. Along with the most important in Aelin's court: Rowan, Aedion, Manon, Dorian, and three others he did not recognize.

But Aelin herself had not yet shown up. But there was still a seat open between Rowan and Aedion, which was reassuring to Chaol. Just then, the door opened and Aelin swaggered into the room. Her appearance triggered an ache in his heart, but Chaol knew instantly that something was wrong. Something had gone very bad.

She took a seat next to Rowan. Aedion, Chaol noticed, who usually tracked the princess' every movement, had not looked at her once. Rowan managed one glance at Aelin, before he looked back down at his boots.

Aelin walked to Chaol, and he stood to embrace her, though it was awkward. "It's good to see you Chaol," she said, and though the hint of swagger was there, her voice shook along with her confidence.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chaol so Yrene reach for the note in her locket, as if she was going to introduce herself to the princess now. But Chaol sat again when Aelin turned away, and placed a hand on hers. She glanced at him, but he shook his head, no. She furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

But Rowan then began speaking. He told them of how Aelin had been refused in Terrasen, and of the progress they'd made in Skull's Bay. He told them of all the battles they had one and discoveries they had made in between. But when it came to talk of the battle Hasar had reported on…

"We fought over the waters, while Aelin and Maeve fought individually miles away," when Chaol sneered, Rowan added, "She went without telling us. We wouldn't have let her go. She must have been concerned for casualties. By the time we were got there, Aelin was weak, but Maeve was gone."

He explained that they hadn't defeated her in the war, but just that one battle. Chaol was doubtful. But Rowan nodded to him, and so Chaol told them of what he had encountered in Antica. He handed it off to Nesryn when he was finished to speak of her discoveries in the aerie with Sartaq and the rukhin. Chaol knew they were all processing every word, but none of Aelin's court looked at all like they were paying attention.

"I have one question," Nesryn said, when she finished. "Who are they?" She pointed to the three people on the end that Chaol didn't recognize. Two Fae male and one small, frail human girl.

The girl, surprisingly, stepped up first. "I am Elide. I am part human, and part Ironteeth witch. I also come from Terrasen. I made it out with my uncle, who later imprisoned me in a tower," she paused, taking a deep breath. This poor girl had endured so much, and she likely wasn't even halfway through her story. He noticed the male on her right, a very cold-looking Fae, try to take her hand and she brutally snapped it out of his reach, gritting her teeth.

Brave girl, to blatantly refuse such a powerful being. Chaol immediately liked her. "Until he took me to Morath." Again, silence filled the room as the girl continued. So she had been on the inside. "There, I saw many horrors. Such as breeding between Valg foot soldiers and Yellowlegs witches." Chaol saw Manon's iron teeth slide viciously from their sheaths. "Manon helped me escape. But I was being hunted. By Lorcan Salvaterre," she pointed angrily toward the male who had tried to take her hand. "Now a former servant of Maeve. As is Gavriel." The other male. "Lorcan helped me get here, and now here I am. With my queen." The last three words sounded incredibly forced.

The last male, however, Gavriel, looked stunningly like…

"Holy hell," Chaol muttered, but the room was quiet enough that it was heard. Chaol looked back to Aedion, and then Gavriel whose head was down, and then Aedion, who said, "Oh, whatever, Westfall. Yes, the man is my father."

Well, that was done with.

Sartaq spoke up next. "Manon Blackbeak, yes?" Manon nodded. "Heir to the Blackbeak clan of the Ironteeth witches? Forgive me, but I thought you led a coven of thirteen, not a thousand and thirteen." Obviously, Sartaq hadn't exaggerated enough when he'd described the host of wyverns to him. "Has your grandmother died so soon?"

Manon's chin lifted. "I didn't kill my grandmother, for the things she had done for Erawan behind my back. But it is not Blackbeak witches that I lead, for that act of treachery, and one other. In fact, for my title to be complete, Winged Prince, you must add 'Queen of the Crochan Witches' as well."

Sartaq sat back smiling, cocky that she knew him. But Chaol was shocked. Though it was Yrene who spoke up. "Sorry, I thought the Ironteeth witches and the Crochan witches were enemies?"

Manon didn't look up from picking at her iron nails, as if to intimidate Yrene, who didn't seem to be paying attention. "They are. But as it seems, my parents were not."

Simple enough, then.

"So, I suppose we can be done here? The only truly important thing we learned is that healers can—well—heal a Valg demon out of somebody. Which is useful, but not at the moment, seeing as we have no currently Valg-infested people on our ship," Aedion snapped abruptly. That was the last straw.

"One more thing," Chaol said, and Aedion through a glare bordering on hateful in his direction.

But Chaol was looking directly at Aelin, who had not spoken a word at all.

"Who in hell are you?"

Dorian sighed. Everybody sighed. "Well, all credit to you, Lysandra, but we all knew we wouldn't be able to fool Chaol anyway."

"My problem is that you tried," Chaol growled. He then turned to Yrene and said, "I'm sorry."

"So," Nesryn said. "Is anyone going to tell us what really happened at that last battle?"

Silence followed. Chaol's stomach gave way and if he hadn't already been sitting, he would've then. Silence spoke words enough.

But then Elide spoke up. She stared at the floor, and Chaol could see tears already lining her eyes. "I saw the most," she admitted. Chaol found himself wishing she hadn't. "When I got there, Maeve and Aelin were deep in battle. And I never saw Aelin fight like it truly mattered, but…something was wrong. Maeve's shots, with her darkness, were direct. Each one found their mark, and Aelin was screaming, but she didn't even seem to be in pain. But when she gave blows of fire, they were haphazard, almost never aimed true. And I knew she had the capacity to and I was so confused as to why she wasn't…

"But then it stopped. Altogether. Suddenly, another Fae male showed up—Cairn, Maeve called him." Chaol felt, rather than saw, Rowan tense considerably at the name. Chaol felt like he was going to vomit. "He tied Aelin up. And I tried to go to her, but then Lorcan was there and…" her voice changed to furious. "He held me back. There was nothing I could've done—I'm just a human, no powers, I don't even know how to fight. But I would have tried. Maeve started saying things, horrible things that I haven't even told anyone until now." Both Aedion and Rowan snapped to attention, Lorcan leaning back in his chair with a hand over his eyes.

"She told her that she knew what Aelin was doing. That she wasn't going to let Aelin drain herself of her power, let herself be killed. She said—and maybe this was just to torture me—but she explained everything. How—how-," Elide bowed her heads into her hands and did not lift it as she continued. "How for Aelin to shut the wyrdgate, she would have to die. And that Maeve was never going to let that happen.

Rowan fell to his knees. Elide choked and sobbed over the next words out of her mouth. "They whipped her—for hours. And she didn't scream, not once. They restarted probably fifty times, because Maeve wanted her to count and Aelin wouldn't, not for her. That Cairn—that horrible male—was smiling and laughing the whole time. Gavriel and Fenrys showed up next. And they didn't even try to save her. They just watched as Maeve put Aelin in an iron coffin with chains and cuffs and a gods-damned mask. And the closed it.

"She released Lorcan and Gavriel of their bonds, leaving them there weak and dishonorable. And now Aelin is gone." Elide finally lifted her head from her hands, and despite her tears, despite her unbelievable smallness, she had fire in her eyes that was akin to Aelin's. "And the worst part," she said, standing and staring directly at Lorcan's guilty face. "Is that you told me you loved me and then you held me back. You made me watch, helpless. Useless. Just the things you said I wasn't. You are a horrible male, Lorcan Salvaterre and I wish it was you in that gods-damned coffin and not her!"

With that, Elide tore from the room, slamming the door behind her. Chaol had gravely underestimated that girl. He felt like he was caught in a very severe lovers spat, as did everyone else in the room, judging by their expressions.

Rowan, who was limp and awestruck on the floor, simply said, "I hope you're making to go after her Lorcan. You never know how much time you'll have."

Lorcan only nodded and vanished after her.

After a few moments of silence, Chaol said. "So, what? You planned to deceive all of Terrasen using Lysandra?" He gestured to the girl who had changed back to her own form.

Aedion, somewhat absentmindedly, answered, "Yes, and I was to play father behind the door of the bedroom."

The thought…

Aedion looked as if he agreed.

"I…" Chaol stumbled over his words. "I need to think."

He stood, Yrene at his tail, as the exited the ship.

. . .

There was one thing Nesryn had to do. She said as much when Sartaq had echoed Chaol's sentiment.

"Lysandra," she said, taking the shifter by the hand. She looked equally tired, but Nesryn wanted her to meet Falkan, and see if her theory had been correct. "I think I found your uncle."

Lysandra immediately stopped. "What? T-they told me he was dead."

Nesryn shook her head, "I'm quite sure that he isn't."

She led her off the ship and back toward their own. It was dark. She hadn't realized how long they had spent in that suffocating room. Only the feel of Sartaq squeezing her hand the whole time had kept her tethered to that room. Now, he walked on her other side, and all she really wanted to do was go with him and curl up in his arms and cry.

But when she reached Falkan's room, and she beheld the expression on his face, she felt differently.

He fell to his knees, Lysandra joining him. "You look…" Falkan sobbed. "Just like her."

His sister. Lysandra was crying too as he trailed his fingers over her face. "I do? I—I don't even remember."

All Falkan could do was nod. And then he muttered, "Come in, and tell me what a life you've lived."

She nodded and they went into his room, shutting the door behind them. But Nesryn heard the first thing she said to him, "My name is Lysandra."

And Nesryn barely made it to the room she shared with Sartaq before she fell into his arms and fulfilled her earlier wish.

. . .

Chaol had said he wanted to return to his room to think. But as he stood, staring out at Aelin's fleet, he could not form any thoughts at all. Aelin was gone.

Well, he supposed, they would just have to get her back.

But he could not do anything at that moment, so instead, he pulled Yrene into a long hug and they stared together at Aelin's massive fleet.

But—it was Rowan's fleet, now, wasn't it?