Rowan met her stare with a grim smile. "I think I've started to figure you out, Aelin Galathynius."
Rowan's POV:
"What in every burning ring of hell are we doing here?"
The contempt in Aelin's voice was tempered slightly by her harsh breathing, but Rowan didn't need that to know she was pissed.
They were standing at the base of a mountain that sat on the border between Wendlyn and Doranelle, right in front of the gaping maw of the cave nestled at it's base. Aelin was at his side, exhausted and gasping for air after their five mile hike through the forest, her face lined with apprehension as she studied the cave entrance.
Ignoring whatever protests Aelin was about to voice, Rowan began moving, snapping at her to hurry up. To his surprise, she followed, though he could sense her unease as they were engulfed by the chill darkness.
The ground was uneven, rocky and littered with rusted armor and weapons, and he could hear Aelin stumbling along behind him as they made their way through the darkness. If she shifted, she'd be able to see easily, but Rowan didn't think this was the time to broach the subject. At least not without the proper motivation.
The passage opened up to reveal a lake, it's icy surface illuminated by the sunlight seeping through the cracks in the cave's walls before it disappeared into the shadowy gloom. Rowan stopped it's edge, rolling his shoulders as he waited for Aelin to realize why he'd brought her here.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Tell me I'm hallucinating," Aelin said, the anger in her voice only overshadowed by her disbelief when she spotted Rowan's little surprise— one that was likely to result in him getting his ass handed to him later. Because sitting at the center of the lake, wrapped in a wool blanket with manacles clamped around his wrists, their chains leading beneath the frozen surface and into the icy depths below, was Luca.
The chain's gave a loud clank as the boy raised his hand to wave at Aelin. "I thought you'd never show," he said, his attempt at a cheerful grin hindered slightly by his chattering teeth. "I'm freezing."
Aelin ignored Luca's greeting as she studied the scene before her, noting the thick layer of ice supporting the boy and the pale stones and abandoned swords at the bottom of the lake. "What is this place?"
"Go get him," was Rowan's only response.
"Are you out of your mind?"
Rowan smirked at the furious disbelief in her voice. He probably was insane for risking Emrys and Malakai's wrath when they discovered he'd dragged Lucas into this. Even so, Rowan was confident this plan would work. He'd meant it when he'd said he had started to figure Aelin out. He'd seen the look in her eyes when he'd mentioned the dying demi-Fae, how it had allowed her to shift and control her Fae form. When she'd used her magic against the skinwalkers she'd said it was because she hadn't wanted him to die for her, so she obviously had an ingrained instinct to protect people. Mastering her magic the traditional way wasn't working, so if he had to risk Emrys poisoning his dinner in order to provoke that side of her, so be it.
Aelin moved to step onto the ice, but Rowan held out an arm to stop her. She looked at him in confusion, and Rowan grinned as he said, "In your other form."
Luca shifted closer from his place on the ice, angling his head to better hear their conversation. Aelin noticed the movement, and Rowan felt her go still and taut against him. "He doesn't know what I am," she murmured.
"You've been living in a fortress of demi-Fae, you know," he reminded her. "He won't care."
Rowan had never understood why Aelin was so reluctant to reveal her Fae form. He was telling the truth when he said no one would care. Besides, Luca's reaction should be the least of her worries.
Aelin seemed to have realized the same thing, and those dying embers in her eyes sparked as she said, "How dare you drag him into this?"
"You dragged him in yourself when you insulted him— and Emrys. The least you can do is retrieve him." Rowan had worked out enough from his conversation with Emrys earlier to know there had been some kind of... incident in the kitchens, and Luca had managed to fill in the gaps. If Aelin didn't kill him for this, maybe he'd ask her why a knife from Eyllwe meant so damn much.
Ignoring her glare, Rowan blew a single breath toward the lake, the ice thawing and then hardening where his magic touched it, creating a path straight to Luca.
"I hope you brought snacks!" he shouted. "I'm starving. Hurry up, Elentiya. Rowan said you had to do this as part of your training and..." His voice faded into the background as Aelin turned to face Rowan, eyes burning.
"What is the gods-damned point of this?" she growled. "Just punishment for acting like an ass?"
"You can control your power in human form— keep it dormant," Rowan explained. "But the moment you switch, the moment you get agitated or angry or afraid, the moment you remember how much your power scares you, your magic rises up to protect you. It doesn't understand that you are the source of those feelings, not some external threat. When there is an outside threat, when you forget to fear your power long enough, you have control. Or some control." He pointed to the lake, to Luca at it's center. "So free him."
Aelin's anger was fading, fear taking its place. "What happens to Luca if I fail?"
"He'll be very cold and very wet. And possibly die," Rowan added with a wicked grin, making sure it held enough malice for Aelin to believe he'd actually let the boy go under. He wouldn't, but she didn't need to know that. Besides the fact that Emrys and Malakai would skin him alive, Rowan actually liked Luca when he wasn't babbling like a gods-damned idiot.
"Were the chains really necessary?" Aelin asked, the tightness in her voice edging towards full on panic. "He'll go straight to the bottom."
When Rowan didn't respond, she sighed and held out a hand, waiting. After a few moments, her face went pale when he didn't give her the key to Luca's manacles.
"Control is your key," he said, ignoring the irritation that flickered to life in her gaze. "And focus. Cross the lake, then figure out how to free him without drowning the both of you."
Aelin balked, the sparks in her gaze becoming full-on flames. "Don't give me a lesson like your some mystical-nonsense master! This is the stupidest thing I have ever had to–"
She stopped when she noticed Rowan's grin. Oh, this was going to be fun.
"Hurry," he said, and the ice gave a low, warning groan. Aelin didn't take her eyes off of him, but she took a step towards the lake. A sign of surrender.
"You are a bastard," she snarled, the air around her practically simmering with her rage even as she shifted in a flash of light.
"I was waiting to see your Fae form!" Luca cheered. "We were all taking bets on when..."
Luca's rambling resumed, and Rowan began to contemplate letting the boy go under after all.
Aelin glared at him, flashing her sharpened teeth. "It gives me comfort to know that people like you have a special place in hell waiting for them."
"Tell me something I don't already know," Rowan said, more amused than anything. He didn't need Aelin to tell him he was eternally damned.
Aelin threw a vulgar gesture over her shoulder as she stepped onto the ice. Her bravado vanished a moment later, though, and her movements were slow and tentative as she made her way towards Luca. Rowan allowed it until Aelin was far enough from shore that she could no longer see the bottom of the lake beneath her feet. Then, he allowed the ice to give another low, unsettling groan. Aelin froze, her breath hitching as she eyed the frozen surface beneath her. Luca stopped talking.
Rowan grinned, and the ice at Aelin's feet began to splinter and crack. "Stop it," she hissed at him, eyes wide and still not moving.
Rowan sensed her magic flicker to life, a
molten lick of flame and embers against his solid wall of ice and wind. Aelin shivered, and he knew she felt it too. She took another step, her body taut with the effort of containing her magic.
"Elentiya?" Luca asked, and Rowan sensed Aelin's fragile hold on her magic stumble. If this entire plan was ruined because Luca couldn't keep his mouth shut...
Aelin held out a hand to silence the boy, her breathing tight and hands clenched as she fought against the rising tide of her panic. Rowan stopped the ice from cracking, but kept it thin beneath her feet. Perhaps an impromptu swim would knock some sense into her, make her understand how vital controlling her magic was, Maeve or not.
Aelin had begun to move again, her feet barely leaving the ice, humming a soft, distant melody as her magic went still and quiet. There were a few moments of silence as she inched across the lake towards Luca, but then it flared again and the ice groaned.
"Elentiya?" Luca said again, this time with slightly more concern. Aelin didn't acknowledge him, but she didn't move either. She just stood there, staring at the ice beneath her as it began to crack, this time without Rowan's help.
"You are in control now," he reminded her, his voice firm and unwavering. "You are it's master."
Aelin didn't bother with a response, not even a snarl, and that alone told Rowan how hard she was working to keep her magic under control, but she did take another step towards Luca. She was halfway across the lake now, but Rowan could sense the doubt growing in her with every step. Her control was weakening, buckling under the weight of her fear.
The ice cracked again.
"You are the keeper of your own fate," he murmured from the shore, not taking his eyes off of her.
After a moment, the cracking stopped, and Aelin began humming again. Assured that she had managed to regain some control, Rowan began to walk along the lake's edge, scanning the stray swords and daggers scattered across the stone floor of the cave. After a few moments, he saw it. A gleam of red and gold in the darkness. He felt a flicker of triumph as he reached inside the crevice in the cave wall to retrieve the blade he'd been seeking, the reason he'd brought them to this cave to begin with. It was a foolish idea, one triggered by Emrys's stories. But perhaps...
Luca's voice reached his ears then, low and tentative as Aelin neared him. "You have nothing to hide, you know. We all knew you could shift, anyway." Aelin relaxed ever so slightly, and Luca grinned. "If it makes you feel any better, Sten's animal form is a pig. He won't even shift for shame."
There was a flicker of amusement from Aelin at that, but it faded as she studied Luca and realized the choice she would have to make. Either burn through the ice and risk drowning both of them, or burn through the chains themselves and risk permanently branding Luca in the process.
"Erm," Luca said, in an obvious attempt to break the tension. "I'll forgive every awful thing you said earlier if we can go eat something right now. It smells awful in here."
"Just hold still and stop talking," Aelin snapped, kneeling down beside him. She placed her hand on the ice and slid it towards the spot where it met the chains. Rowan could practically hear her damning him to hell.
Aelin took a deep breath, and then the ice beneath her hand began to glow a hot, molten red. Luca yelped as the frozen surface of the lake began to splinter and crack around them.
"Control," Rowan barked, yanking the sword from it's place in the rock in one fluid movement, it's gold hilt gleaming in the cave's dim light.
Aelin clamped down on her magic, hard enough that it stopped entirely, and lifted her hand to reveal the small hole she'd created in the ice. It still wasn't large enough to free the chains, but at least it was something. Aelin's magic surged again, filling the cave, the frigid air imbued with the crackle of heat and embers. But her hold on it was firm this time, and there was a hiss of flame against ice and the clank of metal and then...
"Oh, thank the gods," Luca practically moaned as he pulled the chains free from the gaping hole Aelin had burned in the ice.
Aelin reeled her magic in, the heat and fire fading until there was a strange emptiness where they had been brushing against Rowan's ice and wind. A stark cold filled his veins, as if Aelin's magic had stolen the warmth from his body when it; vanished. Rowan ignored it.
"Please tell me you brought food," Luca said. He was still staring at Aelin, a mixture of awe and relief on his face.
"Is that why you came?" Aelin snapped, the fire and heat she'd pulled back into herself now burning in her gaze. "Rowan promised you snacks?"
Rowan might have incentivized the boy, but that was beside the point.
"I'm a growing boy," Luca said sheepishly. He glanced at Rowan, and gave a pathetic attempt at hiding his wince. "And you don't say no to him."
Aelin was already furious with Rowan, and that comment didn't help matters. He could sense her irritation, a tangible thing in the air between them, twice as hot and fiery without her fear to dull it. Oh, she was pissed.
He waited for her to spit flames at him, or at least start screaming, but Aelin just sighed and turned to study the hole she'd made in the ice. A miracle— it was a gods damned miracle.
Rowan felt a flicker of pride from Aelin, and for a moment he found himself hoping she might not hate him for this.
But then, like a flame being snuffed out by the wind, Aelin's satisfaction was replaced by a wave of horror so strong Rowan whipped his head around to look at her, searching for whatever had triggered it.
He didn't have to look far.
Because Aelin was staring at the ice beneath her feet, and a giant red eye was staring back.
•••
Aelin's next words were so vulgar that Luca choked.
"Get off the ice now," she hissed, frozen as she stared at the horrifyingly large eye looking up at her and the jagged white lines that had appeared unnervingly far from it.
Teeth. Those were teeth. Huge, rip you in half teeth, and they were shifting through the darkness towards the hole Aelin had made in the ice. Shit.
"Holy gods," Luca gasped as he looked over Aelin's shoulder at the creature. "What is that?"
"Shut up and go," Aelin snapped, her harsh tone unable to mask her fear. She looked at Rowan then, and something shifted in her gaze. She knew he hadn't planned this.
Seeing Aelin like that, her eyes wide and skin rapidly draining of color, immediately lifted the haze from Rowan's mind that had momentarily rendered him unable to move or speak.
"Now, Luca," he growled, drawing his sword from its sheath, tightening his grip on the other blade he'd taken. His didn't try to mask the urgency in his voice, didn't even pretend to have the situation under control. Because that thing— whatever the hell it was— was swimming lazily towards Aelin and Luca. Rowan could see it's pale body against the rocks, and it was larger than anything he'd seen in all of his immortal existence. All of sudden, the ice beneath their feet looked far too thin.
But Luca didn't move. He stood there, trembling and pale and frozen in fear, prompting Aelin to surge to her feet. The ice let out a groan of protest at the sudden movement.
"Don't look down," she told him, grabbing Luca's elbow and forcing him to look at her. Rowan's magic crept across the lake, creating a path of thicker ice that led to the shore. "Go," Aelin said, shoving the boy forward.
As if in a daze, Luca began moving, but Aelin didn't follow. She stayed where she was, shoulders set and hands clenched even as she trembled. She was guarding Luca, Rowan realized, making sure the boy got to shore safely before she did. It was selfless and brave, but it still took all of Rowan's self-control to resist ordering her back to shore. Every instinct was screaming at him to protect, protect,
protect, but charging onto the ice would only get them both killed.
The pale, scaly creature was closer to the surface now, and Rowan could see it was missing an eye. Someone— or something— had torn it from the socket itself, if the scarred tissue surrounding it was any indication. Rowan didn't want to think about what else was lurking in this lake, this supposedly empty lake. Gods, he was a damned fool.
"Faster," he growled, shoving the panic growing steadily in his chest down, down, down. He couldn't afford to lose control, not when that thing was so close to Aelin and she still wasn't moving.
There was a flash of white below Aelin's feet, a jagged line of bone, and she began shuffling towards shore, her legs shaking with every step. Rowan didn't even have the chance to feel relieved as the creature's tail whipped through the darkness and struck the ice. Aelin's legs buckled as the entire cave shook, her magic flaring to life before she shoved it down again.
When the world had reordered itself, Aelin was on her hands and knees, the remnants of her leashed magic pulsating in the frigid air. She took a deep, shuttering breath, and Rowan opened his mouth to tell her to hurry just as a huge, scaled head came hurtling out of the blackness. The ice jolted again, and Aelin narrowly missed the brunt of the creature's blow as she scrambled and slid across the lake.
That had been far too close. Rowan's control was slipping, the ice at the lake's edges thawing as he focused all of his energy on maintaining the thin bridge to shore. He was beginning to sweat, and Aelin almost getting impaled by the creature's horns twice now wasn't helping.
As if out of a haze, he heard her voice. "Weapon," she gasped, not taking her eyes off of the creature gliding through the water below.
Rowan couldn't stop himself from telling her to hurry this time, sliding the blade he'd found across the ice toward her. Luca broke into a run just as Aelin's hand found the sword and she drew it from its sheath, the blade shining even in the gloom. There was a flash of gold as the ring resting at it's hilt came loose, but it was gone a moment later as Aelin snatched it off the ice and pocketed it.
The creature struck the ice again, but Aelin managed to remain upright this time, sinking back onto her haunches even as the ground beneath her feet shook. Luca, however, wasn't so lucky. He went crashing to the ground, but Aelin was at his side a moment later, grabbing him by the collar and keeping him upright as the ice lifted again and again and again.
They passed the drop-off, Aelin practically dragging Luca, and Rowan felt a rush of relief. His magic took it as the signal to release its hold, and the ice behind Aelin and Luca exploded, a blast of frigid water crashing over their heads as the creature broke through. There was a writhing mass of horns and teeth and scales, it's talons raking over the ice and carving four deep lines. Rowan clamped down on his magic, forcing it to begin freezing the ice again, his face now drenched with sweat from the effort.
Aelin didn't even turn around as she dragged Luca the rest of the way to shore. As soon as she was at Rowan's side, he released his shaky hold on his magic and the ice melted, the creature loosing its grip before it sunk beneath the surface and disappeared.
There was a moment of silence as Aelin stared at the place where the creature had been, blinking slowly as she studied the wreckage it had made of the lake's once pristine surface. Then, she grabbed Luca, who was looking as if he couldn't decide whether to hurl or faint, and bolted.
She dragged the boy down the rocky path and into the sunlight, Rowan on her heels, and then through the trees as Luca muttered a string of prayers to various gods.
When the roar sounded, loud and terrifying enough to shake the ground beneath their feet, they were already a quarter of the way back to Mistward.
But Aelin didn't stop, even as the creature's bellowing quieted and the forest went silent. She didn't speak to Rowan, didn't even look at him, entirely focused on the safety of her young charge as they made their way back to the fortress.
•••
When they could see Mistward through the trees, Aelin finally released Luca and shoved him towards the fortress. The boy was still shaking, gasping for breath after the five mile trek through the woods, and he barely managed a nod when Aelin told him to keep his mouth shut about what had happened in the cave.
When the sounds of him crashing through the trees had faded, Aelin turned to Rowan. The fire had returned to her gaze, and her eyes burned with untempered rage as she plunged her sword into the dirt, the ruby at it's hilt flickering in the sunlight.
Rowan was drenched in sweat, panting from the miles spent running through the woods, his ears still ringing from the deafening roar of that wretched creature, but all of that faded away when he saw how royally pissedAelin was at him.
Oh, he was in for it.
Aelin bared her teeth and snarled. "I will kill you."
The word's broke whatever lingering control she'd kept on herself, and Aelin lunged. She was already better at moving in her Fae form, but Rowan was still faster. He dodged her with ease, smirking as she crashed into a tree... face-first.
The scent of her blood filled the air, a snap of heat and embers through the crisp, rich smell of fresh earth and pine trees that surrounded them, and for a moment Rowan remembered how it had tasted when he'd bitten her all those weeks ago. As if he'd been drinking wildfire straight from her veins.
Aelin whirled to face him, blood dripping down her face and fire in her eyes, and Rowan bared his teeth at her. A challenge.
Aelin's growl was nothing less than feral as she surged forward, her hands finding his jacket and her fist connecting with his face.
A snarl ripped free from Rowan's chest as he slammed her into the ground. He moved to pin her, but Aelin wrapped her legs around his waist and shoved. Then, before Rowan could blink, she was on top of him, pinning him to the forest floor and holding him there with every ounce of her newfound strength.
Shock and then anger flooded Rowan, but before he could follow through on the latter Aelin's fist slammed into his face.
"If you ever again bring someone else into this," she growled, hitting him again on his cheek, right on that gods-damned tattoo. "If you ever endanger anyone else the way you did today..."
The blood dripping from her nose splattered onto Rowan's face, mixing with the blood she'd drawn with her blows, and Aelin lowered her face to his as she snarled out the words. "I will kill you."
The threat was accompanied by another blow to Rowan's jaw, but the raw, unchecked emotion in her voice made him go still beneath her. This was it, the unraveling he'd been waiting for.
Aelin wasn't done. "I will rip out your rutting throat," she said, teeth still bared. "You understand?"
Rowan turned his head to the side and spit a mouthful of blood into the dirt. He could feel Aelin's magic writhing against her hold on it, her fragile control fracturing in the wake of her rage. Still, she forced it back, and just as the heat from her hands reached him through his jacket, the fire in Aelin's eyes shuttered and her grip on him loosened.
Rowan didn't wait for her to realize her mistake, shoving Aelin off of him and slamming her into the dirt. Then she was gasping for air, stunned from the force of his attack, but Rowan felt the ache from her blows spreading across his face and body and his wrath returned in full force. He leaned down, growling the words into her ear, "I will do whatever I please."
"You will keep other people out of it!" Aelin shrieked, her voice shrill enough to silence any of the birds that had dared to return in the wake of the creature's roars. "No one else!"
She was thrashing against Rowan's hold, struggling to break free, and then her hands found his wrists and there was a sharp, burning heat against his skin. He gritted his teeth, buried a hiss of pain, and tightened his grip. He wouldn't let go of her. Not now, not when she was finally allowing herself to break.
"Tell me why, Aelin," he said, the anger that had been coursing through his veins fading as he saw the utter despair in Aelin's eyes.
"Because I am sick of it!" she screamed, and there was another rush of heat as her nails dug into his skin. She was gasping for air, her eyes glazed with pain. "I told her I would not help, so she orchestrated her own death. Because she thought—" Aelin stopped speaking as a cold, wild laugh ripped from her. "She thought that her death would spur me into action. She thought I could somehow do more than her— that she was worth more dead. And she lied— about everything. She lied to me because I was a coward, and I hate her for it. I hate her for leaving me."
Rowan went utterly still at the confession, at the honesty and raw pain in her voice.
Aelin's body went limp beneath his, her hands releasing Rowan's wrists from their burning, iron grip. As if speaking those words, allowing herself to feel all of the grief and pain and anger she'd been holding back, had drained the life from her altogether. "Please," she gasped, and Rowan realized she was begging. "Please don't bring anyone else into it. I will do anything you ask of me. But that is my line. Anything but that."
Rowan let go of her, forcing the sudden rush of emotions beating against his frozen heart to still. Aelin was staring at the sky, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. The fire in them had disappeared.
He pulled back, the space between them a tangible thing. "How did she die?"
"She manipulated a mutual acquaintance into thinking he needed to kill her in order to further his agenda. He hired an assassin, made sure I wasn't around, and had her murdered," Aelin said, and even though her voice was cold and hollow he could sense the grief behind the words.
Aelin blamed herself, that much was clear. It wouldn't matter what he said, what logical arguments he proposed, he wouldn't be able to change her mind. He understood this at least— the bitter self-loathing and irrevocable guilt that followed the failure to protect those you cared about.
"What happened to the two men?" A cold, hard question after what she'd told him. It made Rowan just as much of a bastard as she said he was but... he needed to know. Needed to know if whatever he had sensed lurking beneath Aelin's skin was of the same nature as the shadows that haunted him.
"The assassin I hunted down and left in pieces in an alleyway. And the man who hired him..." she trailed off, her eyes suddenly soulless. "I gutted him and dumped his body in a sewer."
Rowan knew he could break her if he wanted to. After what she'd confessed, those truths she'd admitted... he could tear whatever remained of her sanity and trust intro shreds with a few well chosen words. Instead, he said, "Good."
Aelin looked at him then, her momentary shock at his praise quickly morphing into horror. Rowan realized how he must look. His face was still throbbing from the blows she'd dealt him, the blood dripping from it mingling with the mud soaking his clothes from their fight in the dirt. But it was his arms where Aelin's gaze lingered— at the burns that now covered them in the form of angry, red welts. Rowan could feel the burns now, the pain hitting him as his adrenaline faded. He'd dealt with far worse over the centuries, but Aelin didn't seem to care as she surged to her feet and began stammering out an apology. "I am... so sorry."
Rowan stopped her with a single hand. "You do not apologize," he said, "for defending the people you care about."
Aelin seemed to realize that was as much of an apology as she would get from him. She nodded, though the guilt still lingered in her gaze.
"I'm keeping the sword," she told him, stalking across the clearing to pull it from the ground.
"You haven't earned it." She hadn't— not by his usual standards at least. Then again, Aelin wasn't exactly the typical student. "But consider this a favor," he said, relenting. "Leave it in your rooms when we're training."
For a moment, Aelin looked as if she was about to argue, but then something in her gaze settled and she nodded. Then, she asked, "What if that thing tracks us to the fortress once darkness falls?"
"Even if it does, it can't get past the wards," Rowan told her.
Aelin raised a questioning brow.
"The stones around the fortress have a spell woven between them to keep out enemies," Rowan explained. "Even magic bounces off it."
"Oh," Aelin said, but the snarky response Rowan he expected to follow never came. Instead, as they turned to head back to Mistward there was a steady, peaceful silence between them.
"You know," Aelin said, mischief dancing in her voice. "That's twice now you've made a mess of my training with your tasks. I'm fairly sure that makes you the worst instructor I've ever had."
Rowan looked at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'm surprised it took you this long to call attention to it."
Aelin laughed, a sound for once untainted by malice or fear, and as the lights of the fortress shone through the trees, it was almost as if they were welcoming them home.
•••
As Rowan and Aelin stepped into the kitchens, they were greeted by Emrys. "I've never seen such a sorry sight," he hissed. "Blood and dirt and leaves over every inch of you both."
Rowan had to admit they looked horrible. Their faces swollen and covered in blood, wearing half of the forest's leaves and mud on their clothes, and both sporting the injuries they'd sustained during their brawl. Aelin had limped all the way to the kitchens, and the burns on Rowan's arms were becoming harder to ignore. He would have to summon a healer when he returned to his rooms.
"No better than alley cats, brawling at all hours of the day and night," Emrys continued, growling as he slammed two bowls of stew down in front of them. "Eat, both of you. And then get cleaned up. Elentiya, you're off kitchen duty tonight and tomorrow."
Aelin opened her mouth to object, but Emrys held up a hand to stop her. "I don't want you bleeding on everything. You'll be more trouble than you're worth."
With that, Rowan sunk into his seat, not daring to question the cook as he began to inhale his soup.
After a moment, Aelin slid into the seat beside his, wincing and swearing viciously at the pain— and then at Rowan.
"Clean out your mouth, too, while you're at it," Emrys snapped.
Despite the sounds of the crackling fire and the usual quiet workings of the fortress at night, Rowan couldn't bring himself to relax. He felt Malakai's eyes on him from across the room, and when he lifted his head he noticed Luca was sitting by the hearth, miming a cutting gesture across his neck.
Rowan first assumed it was directed at him, but the boy's eyes turned to Aelin and he realized she hadn't shifted back to her human form. If the pointed ears and sharp teeth didn't give her away, the fire flickering in her gaze would.
But Aelin just glared at Emrys and Malakai, daring them to comment on it. Malakai took the hint, shrugging and returning to his meal as Aelin began to eat her own.
There were a few minutes of silence as they ate, and then a flash of light as Aelin shifted back into her human form. For all her bravado, Rowan felt her stiffen as Emrys stepped closer, setting a loaf of bread on the counter between them as he said, "Makes no difference to me whether your ears are pointy or round, or what your teeth look like. But," he added, glancing at Rowan. "I can't deny I'm glad to see you got in a few punches this time."
Rowan snapped his head up to glare at the cook, but Emrys just aggressively pointed at him with a spoon. "Don't you think you've had enough of beating each other into a pulp?" Across the room, Malakai tensed, his gaze locked on Rowan's own stiff form, sensing the turn the conversation had taken. Emrys, ignoring the sudden tension in the room, continued. "What good does it accomplish, other than providing me with a scullery maid whose face scares the wits out of our sentries? You think any of us like to hear you two cursing and screaming every afternoon? The language you use is enough to curdle all the milk in Wendlyn."
Rowan lowered his head and mumbled an apology into his stew. Aelin looked at him, obviously amused, and Rowan prepared to offer some jibe in response, but then she rose to her feet and got down on her knees in front of Emrys. The apology that followed was sincere and heartfelt, and the cook accepted it, but the hurt still lingered in his gaze.
Aelin didn't seem shocked when Emrys told her he had known her mother, that he had recognized her the moment she'd arrived. She did look surprised, however, when Rowan joined her at the sink to wash dishes. They worked in silence, and it was relatively peaceful until Aelin said, "We had an adventure today."
The word's sent a slice of dread through Rowan. Shit.
"Let me guess," Malakai said. "It had something to do with that roar that sent the livestock into pandemonium."
"What do you know of a creature that dwells in the lake under..." she trailed off, looking at Rowan expectantly.
"Bald Mountain," he finished. "And he can't know that story. No one does."
"I am a story keeper," Emrys said, the look he gave Rowan enough to make him want to beg on his knees for forgiveness like Aelin. "And that means that the tales I collect might not come from Fae or human mouths, but I hear them anyway. I heard one story, years ago, from a fool who thought he could cross the Cambrian Mountains and enter Maeve's realm without invitation. He was on his way back, barely clinging to life thanks to Maeve's wild wolves in the passes, so we brought him here while we sent for the healers."
"So that's why you wouldn't give him a moment's peace," Malaki murmured. Emrys eyes shone as he smiled at his mate.
"He had a fierce infection, so at the time I thought it might have been a fever dream, but he told me he found a cave at the base of Bald Mountain," Emrys continued. " He camped there, because it was raining and cold and he planned to be off at first light. Still, he felt like something was watching him from the lake. He drifted off, and awoke only because the ripples were lapping against the shore—ripples from the center of the lake. And just beyond the light of his fire, out in the deep, he spied something swimming. Bigger than a tree or any beast he'd ever seen."
From his place by the hearth, Luca said, "Oh, it was horrific,"
Shit.
"You said you were out with Bas and the other score on border patrol today!" Emrys shouted, giving Rowan a look that said he better test his next meal for poison.
After a few glowering looks from Emrys and Malakai in Rowan's direction, the cook continued his story. He explained how the creature had been born in another world, that it had been trapped under the mountain by a warrior— the same warrior who had carved its eye out.
Rowan looked at Aelin, making sure she was listening. Then, he asked, "Who was the warrior who carved out its eye?"
"The fool didn't know, and neither did the beast. But the language it spoke was Fae—an archaic form of the Old Language, almost indecipherable. It could remember the gold ring he bore, but not what he looked like," Emrys replied.
Aelin's eyes went wide, and Rowan knew she'd made the connection. He'd done his part. He just hoped she was smart enough to figure out the rest.
Rowan was unable to hide his wince as he reached for his glass of water, his jacket sleeve rubbing against the burns on his arm. Without the rage and adrenaline to fuel him, it was becoming harder to ignore the blistering pain.
He was momentarily distracted as Emrys turned to him and said, "No more adventures."
Luca balked, but Rowan gave him a look that said not to argue and quickly agreed with the cook.
"And no more brawling," Emrys, his firm gaze focused on Aelin and Rowan.
Rowan looked at Aelin, her blonde hair glowing softly in the firelight, strong and exhausted and vulnerable all at the same time, and said, "We'll try."
Even Emrys seemed to deem that an acceptable answer.
•••
An hour later, Rowan was sitting at his worktable, studying a map marked with the locations of the drained bodies and trying to ignore the insistent, steadily growing pain of the burns Aelin had given him. He should have gone to a healer for a salve or something, but after their conversation with Emrys in the kitchen all he'd wanted to do was return to his rooms and forget the events of the past day and a half had ever happened.
Still, despite his exhaustion, Rowan hadn't been able to sleep. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Aelin— eyes blazing and teeth bared as she threw herself at him, the taste of her blood on his lips, the words he'd spat at her still on repeat in his head. It was ridiculous, but after an hour of attempting to sleep he'd decided if he was going to be awake he might as well do something useful.
So, when the knock sounded at his door Rowan was less than pleased. There was only one person who'd visit him at this hour, and it happened to be the one he was currently trying not to think about.
"What?" he snapped, not looking up from the map as the door opened and Aelin entered the room. Her scent, a combination of jasmine and crackling embers, reached his senses, and he had an inexplicable urge to move closer to her. He ignored it.
When Aelin didn't immediately start talking, he glanced at her, letting his annoyance show. But she wasn't looking at him, or at least not at his face. Her eyes were following the path of his tattoo from his cheek to his fingertips, curiosity flickering in her gaze. She'd seen him shirtless before, but this time seemed different. It was as if she was looking for some hidden message between the lines of ink.
"What do you want?" he asked, slightly unnerved by her quiet, watchful gaze. Had she interrupted him only to stand there like a mute servant? And since when had Aelin ever been quiet about anything?
Aelin's eyes went to the manacle-like burns on his wrists, the skin that appeared blistered and raw. "I thought you might want this," she said, tossing him something. She sounded nervous, as if she thought Rowan was about to reprimand her.
Rowan caught it in one hand. A small tub of healing salve, the same one he'd given her after their first brawl. "I deserved it," he said.
And he had. Not just for today, but for all the shit he'd pulled since she'd arrived. The taunts, the name-calling... he'd been a complete and utter ass to her. He wouldn't usually care, and it wasn't like Aelin had been a model student herself, but still...
"Doesn't mean I can't feel bad," she said, and Rowan realized why she was so apprehensive. She was feeling guilty.
"Is this a bribe?" he asked, turning the tin over in his palm. He knew it wasn't, but he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to see that fire of hers again, coax it out in spite of the immense heaviness of the pain and exhaustion he knew she was struggling with.
"Give it back, if you're going to be a pain in my ass," Aelin said, holding out a hand.
Rowan placed the tin on his work table. "You could heal yourself, you know. Heal me, too. Nothing major, but you have that gift."
"It's— it's the drop of water affinity I inherited from Mab's line. My mother—" Aelin paused, as if the word caused her physical pain to speak. "My mother told me that the drop of water in my magic was my salvation— and sense of self-preservation."
Rowan nodded in affirmation, waiting to see if Aelin would continue.
She did. "I wanted to learn to use it like the other healers— long ago, I mean. But I never was allowed to. They said... well, it wouldn't be all that useful, since I didn't have much of it, and Queens don't become healers," she said, not meeting his gaze. As if she was embarrassed for having hope's once, for even thinking of another duty beside serving her country.
He didn't know what she wanted from him.
There was a moment of silence before Rowan said, "Go to bed."
Part of him wanted to acknowledge what she'd said, what she'd screamed at him earlier in the clearing, but he ignored that urge and continued. "Since you're banned from the kitchen tomorrow, we're training at dawn."
Aelin turned to leave, and maybe it was the unconcealed hurt in her eyes or the fact that letting her walk out that door felt like something final, but Rowan said, "Wait. Shut the door."
Aelin went still for a second, and he thought she might just leave after all. He wouldn't blame her if she did. Why would she want to spend time with a person who had tormented her for weeks?
But Aelin didn't leave. Instead, she moved to lean against the doorframe and turned her gaze to Rowan, waiting for him to speak. Rowan didn't meet her eyes, taking a deep breath as he said, "When my mate died, it took me a very long time to come back."
The word's were out of his mouth before he'd even considered them, before he could turn them over and over in his mind for every weakness and truth they might lay bare as he usually did. He opened his mouth to try and take them back, but then Aelin asked, "How long ago?"
"Two hundred three years, twenty-seven days ago," he said with ease. The answer was automatic, but if Aelin pitied him at all for it she didn't let it show.
Rowan gestured to his tattoo. "This tells the story of how it happened," he explained. "Of the shame I'll carry until my last breath."
Understanding flooded Aelin's gaze as she said, "Others come to you to have their own grief and shame tattooed on them."
"Gavriel lost three of his soldiers in an ambush in the southern mountains," he said. "They were slaughtered. He survived. For as long as he's been a warrior, he's tattooed himself with the names of those under his command who have fallen. But where the blame lies has little to do with the point of the markings."
"Were you to blame?" Rowan knew she wasn't talking about Gavriel anymore.
He turned to her, searching her gaze for any disgust or pity she might be hiding, but he found none. Concern yes, as well as sorrow and empathy, but not pity. "Yes," he finally said. "When I was young, I was… ferocious in my efforts to win valor for myself and my bloodline. Wherever Maeve sent me on campaigns, I went. Along the way, I mated a female of our race. Lyria."
Rowan paused. The syllables of her name sounded strange on his tongue. He couldn't remember the last time he'd said it aloud.
After a moment, he continued. "She sold flowers in the market in Doranelle. Maeve disapproved, but when you meet your mate, there is nothing you can do to alter it. She was mine, and no one could tell me otherwise. Mating her cost me Maeve's favor, and I still yearned so badly to prove myself. So when war came calling and Maeve offered me a chance to redeem myself, I took it. Lyria begged me not to go. But I was so arrogant, so misguided, that I left her at our mountain home and went off to war."
He'd been such a fool. Young and arrogant enough to leave his mate alone and defenseless. "I left her alone," he said, finally meeting Aelin's gaze.
You just left me downstairs.
Aelin flinched, and Rowan knew she was remembering the words she'd said to him, putting together the pieces and realizing why they'd caused his control to shatter.
Rowan didn't know how to respond to the raw understanding in her eyes, so he chose to continue his story instead. "I was gone for months, winning all that glory I so foolishly sought. And then we got word that our enemies had been secretly trying to gain entrance to Doranelle through the mountain passes."
Rowan ran a hand through his hair as the memories came rushing back. The fear and rage he'd felt when Gavriel had told him of their enemies plan, the urge to protect that had carried him back to Lyria as if his soul was attached to a fraying cord. "I flew home. As fast as I'd ever flown. When I got there, I found that… found she had been with child." The roar of ice and wind echoed in his ears. Rowan couldn't tell if it was a memory of that day or his current emotions rising to the surface. "They had slaughtered her anyway, and burnt our house to cinders."
Aelin had gone utterly still, and Rowan began to wonder if this was too much for her, but now that he'd started he didn't know how to stop. "When you lose a mate, you don't..." he shook his head, searching for the right words to explain to her what a loss like that felt like. "I lost all sense of self, of time and place. I hunted them down, all the males who hurt her. I took a long while killing them. She was pregnant— had been pregnant since I'd left her. But I'd been so enamored with my own foolish agenda that I hadn't scented it on her. I left my pregnant mate alone."
There was a sudden silence after he spoke the words, and then Aelin asked, "What did you do after you killed them?"
"For ten years, I did nothing. I vanished. I went mad. Beyond mad. I felt nothing at all. I just... left. I wandered the world, in and out of my forms, hardly marking the seasons, eating only when my hawk told me it needed to feed or it would die. I would have let myself die—except I couldn't bring myself…" Rowan trailed off, wading through the clouded haze of his memories, the years spent drifting aimlessly through the world. "I might have stayed that way forever, but Maeve tracked me down. She said it was enough time spent in mourning, and that I was to serve her as prince and commander— to work with a handful of other warriors to protect the realm. It was the first time I had spoken to anyone since that day I found Lyria. The first time I'd heard my name— or remembered it."
"So you went with her?" There was, surprisingly, no judgment in her voice.
"I had nothing. No one. At that point, I hoped serving her might get me killed, and then I could see Lyria again. So when I returned to Doranelle, I wrote the story of my shame on my flesh. And then I bound myself to Maeve with the blood oath, and have served her since."
"How— how did you come back from that kind of loss?" Rowan knew she wasn't just asking for the sake of curiosity.
"I didn't. For a long while I couldn't. I think I'm still not back. I might never be," he told her, and then he realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this honest with anyone.
Rowan waited for Aelin to say something, but she just nodded, her gaze distant. She had never come back either, he realized. Not just from the death of her friend, but from the assassination of her parents and whatever other horrors had followed. She was exactly where he was, clawing her way out of that pit of grief and despair.
"But maybe," Rowan said, his voice quiet enough that Aelin might have missed it if she hadn't been paying attention. "Maybe we could find the way back together."
Aelin met his gaze then, and Rowan knew she didn't expect him to apologize for today, or yesterday, or any of it. She understood why he'd done it, that he'd been so awful to her these past weeks because whenever he looked at her, at how she'd been so utterly ravaged by her grief, it had been like he was looking in a mirror. He hadn't been able to face it, so he'd pushed her away instead.
"I think," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, "I would like that very much."
Rowan held out his hand. "Together, then."
Aelin's gaze lingered on his outstretched hand before she looked at him, her eyes burning with something other than pain or rage or grief— something molten and raw and vulnerable— and Rowan had to steady himself as she reached out and grasped his hand.
"Together," she said. And with that word that both a question and an answer and a promise, an ember began to glow.