Lysandra sat in the carriage as it rocked over the cobbles. Arobynn had summoned her, but for what she did not know.
Weeks ago, word had arrived from over the sea of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the Lost Heir of Terrasen.
Believed to have drowned in the Florine River the night her kingdom fell.
But there had never been a body.
No one had ever found her body.
And now she had appeared in Wendlyn, at a border outpost of Doranelle, after 10 long years.
Many believed her to have lived there safely with her Aunt, Queen Maeve of the Fae, all this time, preparing for the time to come for her to retake her throne.
But how she'd come to be there hardly mattered now.
A woman with golden hair and Ashryver eyes had burned to ashes a demon invasion.
Hundreds of Adarlanian soldiers and three beasts from nightmare and myth had attacked the Demi-Fae at that outpost. Creatures who commanded a foul darkness, powerful beyond all imagining.
And Aelin had scorched them.
Fought back with Brannon's Flame, the legendary magic of the Galathynius line.
All the stories told of her unrivalled power, light from the sun itself holding up a shield against the dark.
But ever since her great return there had been no word of her.
She had vanished once again, to rise up when and where she was needed most, the rumours claimed.
And for the first time in a decade, there was a chance.
A slim one, but a chance.
Before Adarlan's conquest, before magic vanished, the Court of Terrasen had been revered for it's strength. A court of unimaginable power, to rival any force, however great.
And if that court were to rise again, with the Queen of the Wildfire leading it, then Adarlan might fall.
The carriage jerked to a halt, shaking her from her thoughts, and she stepped out into the courtyard of the Assassin's Keep. Arobynn didn't like being kept waiting.
He was waiting for her in his study when she entered, a sly grin on his face that made her heart freeze over. This was not going to be good.
"I have an errand for you to run." He twirled a small dagger idly between those scar-flecked fingers.
"It's rather urgent, you see." That dangerous smile widened slightly as he finally met her gaze.
She raised a brow in question.
"I wish for you to deliver a message to Celaena Sardothien."
She didn't know if her heart leaped in fear or joy or shock.
He expected her to be killed. Yet – here was her opportunity, clear as day and simple. Handed to her on a silver platter. And Celaena was back in Rifthold. Since when? Why?
She played her part. Narrowing her eyes warily, she asked, "And what is your message?" A woman who knew the implications of what he was asking.
But he knew there was no one who would dare disobey him.
She was a favour. Her life a gift for his once-favoured assassin. All wrapped up with a pretty bow and sent with a message.
And yet he knew nothing of Wesley's letter. Had no clue that this was a gift for her, too.
She hid her emerging smile with a small frown.
"I am working with Celaena. We are going to free the General from the glass castle."
Aedion Ashryver, who had been imprisoned by the king as a rebel. His execution was set for the Crown Prince's Birthday.
"You know how little I trust messengers."
She nodded curtly.
"So, I need you to pass on my plan for the rescue. Listen carefully…"