Rowan dreaded the idea of walking through the large, solid oak door in front of him. Maeve was on the other side of that door. His possible death was on the other side of that door, and after having been outsmarted by Adarlan's Assassin, that scenario seemed highly probable. He still couldn't believe he'd been swindled by her-Celeana. The title and reputation didn't fit the girl he'd encountered earlier that night. She was young-younger than anyone knew or even suspected. Before tonight, Rowan wouldn't have guessed she was any younger than thirty. Meeting the woman behind the myth tonight, the white haired thief had to admit that he was impressed. She was a force of nature. Someone not to be trifled with or underestimated. Gritting his teeth, Rowan swore that he'd never make that mistake again. Squaring his shoulders, he took in a deep, steadying breath, and opened the door.

Maeve sat behind her desk, her dark hair and even darker eyes illuminated in the blue-white light of her computer screen. She didn't even look at him as he entered, didn't even raise a brow. "Do you have it?" She asked, immediately getting to the point. Still her gaze never strayed from the screen before her. Rowan hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. That did draw her attention. "Well?" She asked again, her sharp tone cutting into his soul.

"I have the files," he said, walking forward and placing them on the desk before her. Maeve's dark eyes flickered down at the Manila folder before her, then back to him. She quirked a brow, silently prompting him for more. "I don't have the ring." He admitted, trying hard not to fidget under her glare. Maeve was cut throat, and intolerant of failure. She hadn't become a crime boss by making friends and giving second chances, after all.

"Where is it?" She hissed, standing up to slam her hands down on the desk.

"I wasn't the only one sent to Dearst's office," Rowan told her slowly, trying not to show his fear at her wrath. Normally Maeve remained apathetic and unmoving, never letting herself show any sort of emotion. But now, with the anger and frustration radiating off her in waves, Rowan genuinely feared for his eternal soul. Maeve's nostrils flared dangerously, so Rowan continued, "Adarlan's Assassin was there. She took the ring. I'll get it back," he swore quickly, seeing Maeve's already pale face drain of all color.

"Adarlan's Assassin," she repeated, her eyes darting away. "Of course," she whispered. Sighing, the crime boss sat back down into her chair and sighed heavily. "Has anyone told you about my past, Rowan?" She asked, her eyes not on him but on the ceiling above. Rowan stayed quiet, sure this was a trap. Maeve was known for many things and being nostalgic wasn't one of them. A bark of a laugh escaped her lips, shaking her chest, and Rowan's green eyes flashed. "Surely you've heard at least one rumor?"

"No, ma'am," he answered surely. Of course, he'd heard many stories about how Maeve had come into being. his favorite was that she was born of shadow and spite. That she grew stronger with every angry and bitter emotion aimed at her. It certainly explained why she was such a bitch, but the white haired thief valued his life too much to mention any of that.

"I always know when you're lying, Rowan, never forget that," she said darkly and had to repress a flinch. "But I'll forgive you this once." She arched her back, cracking it in the process, and stood again. This time she opened a drawer and pulled out a picture frame before walking over to stand before him. Handing him the frame, she said, "I had a brother, once. Did you know that? His name was Orlon."

Rowan looked down at the picture in his hands. It was a younger Maeve-though how much younger, he couldn't say since she looked exactly the same-and a young man with dark brown hair and a kind smile. Rowan had never heard any stories about Maeve having a brother, or any family for that matter, and he couldn't help but wonder why she was telling this to him.

"He was killed," she said simply, without feeling. Like she was merely stating the weather. "In his sleep. In his home. Along with his son, Rhoe, and his daughter in law, Evalin." Maeve sighed again, and there was so much sadness in it, so much loneliness, it made Rowan's heart sting. If it weren't for her outburst earlier, this would have been the most emotion Rowan had ever witnessed from her. "Did you look in the file?"

Rowan blinked, slowly tearing his eyes away from the picture in his hands and to his boss. "No."

Maeve hummed and tapped the thick manila folder thoughtfully, "It's theirs-their unsolved case file." She admitted quietly. Luckily, rowan had exceptionally good hearing. "That ring is important, Rowan," her eyes flashed to his and Rowan saw a hint of mania behind them.

"To the case?" He asked, his white eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand.

Maeve scoffed, "The case," she nodded, "and to me. I gave that to Orlan ages ago, back when it was just the two of us alone and against the world." Tilting her head, she asked, "Do you know who killed my brother and his family, Rowan?" He shook his head. "Celeana Sardothien," she growled, her upper lip curling back and her white teeth gleaming. "Adarlan's Assassin. And now she's taunting me. She knew what that ring meant to me. What Orlan meant to me. And now she has it in her dirty little claws."

Rowan felt like he was going to be sick. This interaction was turning out so much worse than he'd imagined. He'd never let Maeve down before, and the one time he fails, he fails spectacularly. Maeve's shoulders were hunched, her lower lip wobbling with unchecked emotion. She looked so small, so vulnerable. Rowan wanted to tear himself apart. Celeana's face flashed in his mind, her strange blue-gold eyes flashing with wicked mirth and mischief, and his heart twisted. No, he thought, he wanted to tear her apart.

"I'll fix it," he swore.

Maeve's eyes brightened with hope, "Swear it, Rowan," she whispered. "Swear you'll kill her. Return what's rightfully mine. Swear it."

No hesitation, "I swear."

Maeve smiled at him, so soft and shy it almost made him want to cry. "Thank you, Rowan."

Rowan left Maeve's office with determination in his eyes and a war cry in his heart. She didn't know it yet, but Celaena Sardothien's days were numbered. For all the pain and misery she'd caused as Adarlan's Assassin, Rowan Whitethorn would return it ten thousand fold. She'd rue the day she ever thought to screw with Rowan's queen.

A/N: It's kind of short but I finally have a plot line for this story! Yay! Updates may be inconsistent just because of, well, life, but don't worry because I fully plan to see this fic through to the end!