~18~

Lorcan was pissed as hell. He didn't know how the hell he had gotten lumped with this job of spying on the spy, but he hated it. He supposed that this was to be his punishment for betraying Aelin to Maeve during the war. Hell, Lorcan didn't even know why everyone was still so pissed about it. They knew that the only reason he had summoned Maeve to that spot was to protect his Elide. How the hell was he supposed to know that it was all a set up so that Maeve could kidnap Aelin out from under their noses?

Hence this latest task of his, to remind him that he was no longer the top dog, a reminder that he was now among the lowest of the low, as far as court rankings went. And as he had expected, he was hating every inch of the dungeon cell he was now currently occupying. Despised it, actually. He couldn't wait to get out of it as a matter of fact. Even one more hour down here would be too much for him. He just hoped that Elide would be able to get him out of here sooner rather than later, as Aelin trusted her far more than him.

At least the Cortland child had appeared somewhat surprised to see him be thrown into the cell next to his. Perhaps wringing as much information as possible out of him would be easier than everyone had thought it would be.

That was what he thought, at least, until the boy in the next cell started talking to him. "I'm not surprised that they put a monster like you down here with me," the boy said in an uncooperative and stubborn tone of voice. "What's your crime, existing?"

"Why on earth would existing be a crime?" Lorcan inquired, flummoxed. Why on earth didn't Elide or one of the guards come to spring him free? Hell, he'd even be glad to see gods-damned Aedion Ashryver right now, and the man hated his guts almost as much as his dearest cousin Queen Aelin did. And that was saying something.

"Because you're Fae," Cortland replied simply, as though that explained everything. "The crime of the Fae is simply to exist. If the Fae didn't exist, then the famine, draught and sickness wouldn't have swept through Erilea twelve years ago. Magic wouldn't have vanished then either. The Valg Wars wouldn't have happened. If the Fae didn't exist, my Aelin would still have been with me for the last four years. Aelin would still be my Celaena if not for you. She would never have willingly abandoned me for one of the Fae, she hates them as much as I do. I would never have lost her in the first place if not for the Fae. In my opinion all Fae should be killed on sight. Even the children."

A jolt of unexpected anger coursed through Lorcan. Clearly, the unintelligent little brat knew nothing about, well, anything. It was no wonder that Lyria had found it so easy to corrupt him. How on earth had he managed to survive by himself before that? But the boy had never truly been by himself, Lorcan reasoned, he'd bene raised by a monster that had faked his death for his own ends and had been held prisoner for years. The boy had probably only killed his way free of imprisonment just a few days before Lyria had gotten a hold of him.

"Child," Lorcan sighed tiredly. "You're wrong on just about every count there. Have you been incarcerated for so long that you no longer know the first thing about how the world works? Do you not know just how ridiculously stupid you just sounded? The way you were raving and ranting about Sam, Sam, Sam, made it clear that the only person you care about is yourself. I doubt you even care about Aelin at this point. It's all just an obsession with you, isn't it? She jilted you, and you can't have that, can you? Everything has to be your way or no way at all."

"Of course I care about Aelin, or Celaena or whatever the hell she wants to call herself," Sam said, clearly offended. "It doesn't matter to me what she calls herself. It doesn't matter to me whether she's royalty. It never did. But she's still my Celaena and belongs with me, not some foreign born Fae bastard."

Lorcan sighed heavily. Nothing he said seemed to get through to the boy, but he decided to give it one last shot before he gave up for the moment. "You do realise that you're a foreigner here too? You're in Terrasen now, not Adarlan."

"So?" Sam demanded angrily. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Technically it makes you and I both foreign born bastards as well."

"Don't you dare," Sam growled furiously, "ever call me a bastard again. You do, and I'll make you pay. That's a direct threat."

"You have no idea who you're threatening here, boy," Lorcan laughed bitterly. "I'm not who you think I am."

"You're not who I think you are?" This time it was Sam who laughed. "You're dead wrong there. You're exactly what I think you are – a dead beat, dead waste of space, Fae man who got himself caught doing something criminal. If you hadn't, you wouldn't have been thrown in these stinking cells with me. You're nothing but a piece of filth. And if I don't punish you appropriately for your horrendous threats, then Lyria will definitely do it for me. She adores me, you know, but she is still only my second choice for wife. I'll only marry her if my Celaena doesn't take me back."

Lorcan gaped in disgust at the human boy wallowing in the next cell. Either he hadn't heard what Athril and the Thirteen had discussed on their journey north, or he had chosen to deliberately ignore it, or was completely delusional. Lorcan was willing to bet that it was the third option. He was more than willing to believe that Sam Cortland was completely delusional.

"Let me know when you come to your senses," Lorcan said sarcastically. "I'm sure there are plenty of people at the royal court who'd be glad to know that you're no longer a threat. And once you're doomed to be not a threat, you'll get out of this stupid cell just that bit sooner and regain your freedom."

"I do like the sound of freedom," Sam said dreamily. "For if I'm free again, I'll be able to send Lyria the information that she so desperately needs."

"You know," Lorcan said slyly, sensing that this may well be his in with the boy. That this may be his only chance to wrangle the information his queen so desperately wanted out of him. "If I'm let out of here before you, I can get that information to Lyria for you."

"I'll consider it," Sam snapped angrily. "But I highly doubt that I'll be telling you in any case. I don't trust you, and I doubt that you would even tell Lyria my news even if you swore you would. I may not trust Lyria because she's Fae, but I trust you even less than I do her. So you will do me the courtesy of considering your request."

Lorcan just scowled at the boy. Why was he making this so difficult for him? He didn't even want to be in this stupid, horrible, stinking cell in the first place. And the longer it took Cortland to divulge whatever information he currently possessed, the longer he would be in this ghastly old dungeon. Why couldn't anything ever go the way he wanted it to? Why did he have to be the one who had to trick Cortland into speaking? Why did it have to be him?

Deep down, Lorcan knew the answer to his own questions. It had to be him, because Aelin had decided that he needed to be taken down a peg or two. And Rowan and Fenrys, who had both at one time, served under him in Maeve's court in Doranelle had decided that it would be a good idea to remind of his current place in Aelin's court. Remind him that he was currently ranked below them, when he was once at the top of the pecking order.

Not that he needed reminded. Lorcan was constantly aware of the fact that the only place he would ever have in this frozen court was beneath the people who should have been answering to him. It was an endless humiliation to be so constantly looked down upon by the snobbish, self-absorbed nobles of Aelin's court.

For the first time in five centuries Lorcan wished that he held the reigns of his own fate. For the first time in Lorcan's long life, he wished he controlled his own life. For the first time in five hundred years, Lorcan wished that he was truly free.

And in that moment, Lorcan decided that if he ever managed to wrangle whatever information he could from Cortland, and get out of this horrid dungeon cell, he would do whatever he could to convince Aelin to free him from the oaths he had made to her while under duress. In that moment, he just wanted a new life for himself, a fresh start for himself and his wife. A fresh start, and a desperately needed new, clean life, without being bound to any queen.

A new life for himself and his wife, without being bound to any monarch at all. It sounded like a promise of pure heaven to him in that moment.


Aelin almost groaned as she had to sit through yet another council meeting. It was not as though she didn't realise or understand the necessity of it, especially with Lyria still out there, and Sam Cortland still in the palace dungeons, still completely unwilling to cooperate.

She knew that she was not to blame for Sam's loyalty to Lyria, yet she could not help but feel that his unwillingness to talk reflected negatively on her. She was queen, yes, but as long as Lyria was still out there, and still dangerous, her position was not secure. Her unborn child's safety was not secure. But Aelin still knew that she would do whatever it took to keep her child, her precious baby safe. She knew Rowan would as well.

Yet Aelin knew full well what this meeting would centre around. Knew that there would be questions. Questions that she was growing tired of repeating the answers to. She knew that they would ask, yet again, why the decision had been made to send Lorcan into the dungeons to play spy. Knew that they would want to know why it had been decided to send Lorcan in as yet another prisoner, rather than have him pose as a guard or one of the rebel spies that Lyria was no doubt using to her advantage in whatever game she was playing.

Knew that they still wondered whether Lorcan was actually loyal, or if he was one of Lyria's conspirators. Knew, deep down, that many of them still considered Lorcan a security threat. A threat to her, to Rowan, Terrasen and the child that they were going to have.

"I have to admit, Majesty," Darrow said, a smug little smirk on his face, "that I was pleased to hear that Lorcan Salvaterre is currently residing in the palace dungeons. Many of us were appalled to learn of his betrayal of you during the war, and are pleased to learn that he is finally getting his comeuppance."

"I admit that I agreed with Endymion when he said that he thought Lorcan was becoming a bit too full of himself when he suggested that it would be a good idea to put him in the dungeon cells with Cortland, in order to get him to open up and spill his secrets," Aedion said. "In order to take Lorcan down a peg or two, as well."

"But why place him in the cells as a prisoner?" another councillor enquired. "Surely merely having Salvaterre posted on guard duty would work just as well."

"I'm afraid I don't agree with that reasoning," Endymion said calmly. "From what I understand, the young man has spent the last several years has a prisoner, even before being ensnared in Lyria's net. So he would be used to not being able to trust his guards."

"Besides, being so closely ensnared by Lyria's magic, and working so closely with her may very well have made him more sympathetic to a demi-Fae prisoner than he would be to a human one," Aelin said quietly but firmly. Despite the more positive response than she had expected, Aelin felt that she had to get her side of the story out in the public eye before Lorcan was released from the dungeons in a few days and undermined her decisions while in a rage.

"I can't say I fault your reasoning," Darrow continued thoughtfully, "but I can't help but wonder how young Elide Lochan will react when she discovers that you have placed her husband in the cells – even just for a few days – in order to simply play spy."

"We discussed the matter with Elide beforehand, and she agreed that our plan was a sound one," Aelin said as calmly as possible. Despite her best efforts at diplomacy today, she was starting to become rather irritated. Being so far along in her pregnancy whilst attempting to rule her kingdom to the best of her ability was rather exhausting to say the least.

"The we in question being…"

"Aedion, Rowan, Lysandra, Fenrys, Chaol and myself," Aelin clarified at Darrow's request.

"And Athril? Where does he stand on this matter?"

"Athril…" Aelin broke off uncomfortably. "Athril is still struggling to come to terms with everything. He continues to blame himself for bringing a spy, a traitor if you will, into Orynth. We have all attempted to discuss it with him on various occasions, convince him that none of it was his fault. Persuade him that he got played as badly as the rest of us, and that everyone makes mistakes on occasion. All to no avail, I'm afraid, and I don't know how else to help him. How else to assure him that I do not lay the blame at his feet."

Darrow simply nodded at that, feeling a bit more at ease at those comments, resting assured that Aelin, at the very least, was continuing to listen to the advice of those around her. Glad that she was attempting to comfort and reassure Athril, and was trying to help him through this, and not just lay the blame at his feet. Respectful of the ruler that she had become and was still growing into.


Back down in the dungeons, Lorcan was still gnashing his teeth in silent fury. It had taken less than four hours after that initial conversation between him and Cortland for the boy to start spilling his guts worth of information.

And instead of just going straight to Aelin with it, he still had to languish down in these cells – nothing more than a pathetic puppy dog waiting to be summoned.

Then there was the information that he had just learned. Information that couldn't just wait. The council had to be summoned, had to be told of the threats.

For Lyria simply wasn't waiting to hear news from Cortland, wasn't just using Dorian like some ill-fitting puppet-glove. She was amassing Adarlan's forces to once again march upon Terrasen. Not hearing from Cortland was just the excuse she was going to use in order to declare war.

A war between Adarlan and Terrasen that would be every bit as deadly, every bit as devastating, as the last Valg war that had ended just barely a year previously.

And now that he had finally wrangled the information out of Cortland, Lorcan couldn't wait to be let out of the dungeon, and could not wait to start his new life away from Terrasen with his wife at his side.