When Aelin woke she noticed she had shifted in the night and her head had curled inwards into a pillow. A position she was familiar with, if not for the cold replacement of Rowan's warmth with the flat coolness of her pillow.
It felt a little harder to breathe after that.
Chaol found her in that position, her forehead pushing against the pillow and her hands twisting the sheets too tightly. "Sardothien."
It had been some time since she'd heard that level of cool detachment from him.
Slowly, unwilling to let the illusion of what she hoped the pillow was - as pathetic as she felt for that hope - Aelin removed herself from the end of the bed. All the other duvets and pillows rested on the other end on the floor. If Chaol noticed he didn't comment.
The sunlight glinted through glass of the window and Aelin beheld the shaded light with a wondrous disbelief. How long had she been trapped in iron? Maeve had done her best to trap her in darkness and she expected to die in it. She'd expected to die in darkness in Endovier as well - prayed for it even. Aelin knew that her time was limited and she would savour every breath and warm ray of sunlight on her skin. Uncaring of Chaol's presence, she stood and cautiously approached the window, stepping into the rays.
The servants coiled her hair in a braid and dressed her in the same fine riding clothes they had the first time - Aelin barely felt the sting of the wounds on her back as they bound them. Out of habit, she reached for her wrists and felt the swollen red cuts that would heal into pale scars. She was free from Endovier. Free from Maeve and the chains that bound her had been released. And still a glance out the window reminded her that many were not. She would be living the darkness, but so many more would die in it.
She allowed Chaol to lead her out to the caravan of horses where they would meet Dorian.
The slaves they passed made her stomach clench and twist.
Three sleek black dogs bounded to her and she felt a smile tug at her lips. Nehemia and Fleetfoot were waiting for her at the castle. She knelt for the dogs, showering them with affection as their owner walked up behind her.
"How unusual for them to notice you." He observed.
Aelin didn't look away from the dog she was scratching behind the ear as she responded, "With company like this, I don't blame them."
Chaol scowled at her.
"I suppose I should explain what the rules are - what's expected of you." Dorian began after a curious glance. Aelin turned her head in his direction, ignoring him promptly when he began explaining things she already knew. Lillian, her alias. Her 23 competitors. The challenges she would face.
When he finished he looked at her again, his eyes glinting with a hunger to solve a mystery.
"I wonder - have you really heard a word I said?"
Aelin tilted her head and stretched her lips into a teasing smile, like she would for her Dorian, "Are you implying I would ignore you , Your Highness?"
Dorian seemed to have confirmed something to himself and grinned at her before turning away, his dogs following close behind. Chaol stood by the side and frowned disapprovingly at her.
When Aelin climbed onto the saddle of her mare, she had to take a deep steadying breath to prepare for the set of shackles Chaol would strap her into. The mare sensed her uneasiness and shifted nervously. Aelin soothed it, patting it's coat in an attempt to comfort herself. Chaol didn't disappoint and arrived moments later, trapping her bound hands to the shackles connected to his own horse.
Aelin took another deep breath and ignored the surprise on Chaol's face when she didn't protest. The metal wasn't made of iron. It didn't burn her skin and lock away her fire - it wasn't Maeves. It was Chaols. Aelin could trust Chaol. And if she needed to, Aelin was sure she could break her horse free. It could be worse.
This time as they left Endovier, Aelin didn't say a word. She looked back at the prison until it disappeared from view and the crack of whips and pick axes couldn't be heard. This time those prisoners would leave alive. She would make sure of it. With the sun lending her it's warm strength, Aelin set her gaze forward.
Chaol let Aelin stay silent, stopping once for lunch and then continuing on until they stopped for the night.
The fire they made burned hotly and Aelin resisted the urge to run close to its heat. She was prodded to a small tent and shackled again to the ground. Aelin stayed awake for a while that night, listening to the fire crackle and inhaling it's smoky scent.
She needed to gain the championship, the trust of her friends. Then she could go to Wendlyn - to Rowan. First to Mistward, the blade and the ring would be needed to bargain with Maeve for Rowan's freedom. But before that she would have to talk to Elena. See what help she could offer and figure out exactly why she back to this moment in the past. She needed to get the Amulet of Orynth away from Aborynn - it would be easy enough to steal it once she got the fake forged. And Nehemia - maybe she could tell Nehemia what had happened. She could trust her to help, especially to save those in Calcula and Endovier. If she remembered correctly, the massacres occurred more than a few months after she became the champion - perhaps enough time to free Rowan from Maeve before she returned to Adarlan. This time - maybe her armies could be gathered early, stop Erawen while he was still weak.
Under the cover of the stars, Aelin began to form a plan.
The next two weeks passed in a blur, the days growing shorter and colder as they neared Rifthold. The rain was bitterly cold and the wind blew through her hair in a way that would normally have made her furious.
As it was, it reminded her too much of Rowan. Rowan who would send the cold wind to flick at her nose when she teased him, and mess up her hair when he felt playful. Rowan whose ice matched her fire so completely, who had accepted every part of her.
She was lost in that grief when Dorian's horse neared Chaol's and he led them both to a hilltop. The wind there was calmer, more playful and Aelin could barely breathe it in. The view of the city was breathtaking. The castle stood proudly made of glass, and the river sprawled lazily through the river. If she looked, she could find Aboryn's sect of the city, maybe even pinpoint where she washed up on that river so long ago.
Dorian and Chaol talked quietly beside her as Aelin searched the city with her eyes,its secrets laid bare at this height.
"You look as if you want to wreck the city, brick by brick." Chaol commented as Dorian left. Aelin considered his words.
"Not the city - but maybe it's residents."
If Chaol seemed bothered by the image, he didn't show it.
"Did those residents lead to your capture?"
Once, she had thought the day she had been captured for Endovier was the worst of her life. Until she met Rowan was shot in the shoulder and her heart had stopped beating in fear.
"Those inhabitants have debts they owe me - and I intend to collect."
Aborynn had something of hers. And - maybe this time she would be able to show him the same mercy he showed Sam first hand.
"A debt." The world rolled around in his mouth.
Aelin glanced at him once her eyes cool. She urged her horse forward and Chaol took the hint.
They didn't set up a tent that night.
She sat forward on her news and stared up at the moon and stars and all the blackness between.
Was it morbid to wonder if she'd join them in death?
If at her death she'd watch over the world from above, joining the stars. Or maybe - would Rowan join her up there one day? Would the memories of the old timeline and the new forge? Would people witness the change she hoped to bring?
It would be enough to watch them all grow old.
Her eyes shut and her hand reached for her chest, where the mating bond had been - where magic had been striped from her, and pretended the breeze drifting around her had been sent by Rowan. Pretended they were camping and he had gone off somewhere with Aedion - Lysandra chatting to Dorian in hushed whispers. Maybe he had grinned at her only moments before, pinched her side teasingly before going to patrol the campground.
Aelin drifted with the ghost of his lips against hers.
Dorian didn't know what to make of her.
Calaena Sardothien.
The famed assassin sat curled on the grass, gazing at the moon that bathed her in cold faint light. She gazed at the stars as if they held shards of her very soul.
She had been quiet in the throne room - her eyes ringed with a cold fire. A feline observing her surroundings.
And then the fire had flared, first with the Duke and then in response to Chaol. As cold as she was, there was something to be admired about her. Her resilience and determination was astounding and Dorian had to keep himself from hounding her with searching questions.
She had closed her eyes and the soft smile that pulled at her lips was unlike any expression he had seen on her face.
She was a mystery - an assassin who murdered and yet looked back at her prison with such empathy for its remaining needed to leave her be - no matter how much he wanted to solve the riddle she posed.
This time Rowan was prepared for the nausea and weakness that hit him when he passed the borders. The journey had taken less time than expected, with the wind blowing in their favour.
His magic had left him and he felt weakly for the mating bond - the block of magic dulling his sense of it. The glass castle stood proudly and he stepped off the docks into the city as another shadow in the night.
He would not rest tonight, scouring the city for any trace of her scent, listening in windows for a hint of her location.
"The Crown Prince!"
"Yes, tomorrow -"
"I heard he went -"
"Up south? Whatever for?"
Rowan let a smirk pull at his lips, his fangs bared in triumph.
Tomorrow. If Dorian was there, chances are so would Aelin.
Tomorrow he would see his Fireheart.
With a final glance at the palace, Rowan faded back into the shadows as he drew his own plan. To whatever end, he would find Aelin tomorrow.
Hope you like this Chapter! Thanks for the support guys!
