The last day of their trek to Doranelle. Rowan had been preparing himself for it. He had grown quite. He wouldn't talk to her. He was building up walls between him and Aelin. He had the vague sense that she knew that. She too had grown quiet. He wanted to grow distant so he wouldn't miss her much. But he was sure, it would be in vain.
He woke up from where they had been sleeping in a cave. Aelin was still asleep. Dawn had just broken. He woke up and walked out of the cave and to the cliff's edge.
And holy gods!
Mala, the Fire bringer, appeared before him.
"My child, what do you wish for?" she asked. Her voice a sweet melody.
He wished that Aelin would have enough courage and luck that she would walk out of Maeve's palace. He also wished…
He wished to be free from Maeve so that he could accompany Aelin.
A selfish wish and a fool's hope really. One that would no way be true whatsoever.
As if he had spoken it out loud, Mala smiled and disappeared. At the same time, Aelin woke up.
Rowan kept pace with Aelin as they moved through Maeve's palace. Last walk together. He was sure Maeve wouldn't even let them bid good byes. It was better, he thought. He wouldn't be able to say her farewell. They walked, Aelin keeping quiet, he too being quiet. They finally entered the throne room. And he saw Maeve.
"Hello, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius." A taunt to Aelin but Maeve didn't know that Aelin had shredded her old name, Celaena and opted for Aelin, her true name. Why? Even he didn't know. She had given him clipped answers. That whatever she saw due to the Valg princes had her wanting to reclaim the throne. For her people. For Terrasen.
Rowan did what he was expected to do. Kneel. Maeve didn't even look at him as he did so. Like countless past incidents. He was so used to it by now but Rowan could scent Aelin's irritation.
And then they began to talk. Aelin asked her questions, Maeve answering them. When suddenly Maeve asked her whether she had any inkling of the location of the Wyrdkey.
"No, I don't." Aelin said.
And then, what he had dreaded, "Rowan, rise and tell me the truth."
This was the reason- the only reason- why he hadn't pushed Aelin to tell him anything about the location of the Wyrdkey. He wouldn't tell Maeve.
Then, Maeve yanked on the blood oath. He stood up, as if he was compelled to do so. He swallowed.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Think, Rowan. Think.
Find a way out of this.
But there was no way. Maeve yanked on the oath again and he started speaking, "She found a riddle, and she knows the King of Adarlan has at least the first key, but doesn't know where he keeps it. She also learned what Brannon did with the third- and where it is. She refused to tell me." Rowan's fists were trembling.
Maeve tutted. "Keeping secrets, Aelin? From your aunt?"
"Not for all the world would I tell you where the third key is." "Oh, I know," Maeve purred. She snapped her fingers, and the wolves rose to their feet, Connall and Fenrys then shifted to their fae form and gripped him. Rowan did nothing, didn't even struggle because what was the use of it, he had been compelled because of the gods damned blood oath to stay still. so the twins gripped his arms, forcing him to his knees. Lorcan and Gavriel came in with whips in their hands.
Maeve knew. She had to know.
She knew what the effect of a whip was to Aelin. Which was precisely why she had chosen this out of all the weapons.
Lorcan didn't hesitate as he ripped Rowan's jacket and tunic and shirt from him.
"Until she answers me," Maeve said.
Lorcan unfurled the whip, and then raised it.
"Please," Aelin whispered.
Lorcan didn't seem to hear as he brpught it dopwn. Rowan bowed when the whip sliced into his back. He gritted his teeth, hissing, but did not cry out.
He wouldn't. Just for Aelin. For the princess who had stolen his heart.
"Please," Aelin said again.
Rowan only had enough time to breathe once before Gavriel too brought the whip down.
Aelin was shattering. She didn't know how many times he had endured this. How many times Maeve had punished him and the other members of his cadre, as Fireheart called them.
Maeve said, "How long this lasts depends entirely on you, niece."
Aelin was still looking at Rowan.
"Stop it," Aelin growled.
"Not for all the world, Aelin? But what about for Prince Rowan?" Maeve purred.
Another strike and blood was on the stones.
"Tell me where the third Wyrdkey is, Aelin."
Crack. Rowan jerked against the twins' iron grip. He wouldn't cry out but it hurt.
Damn, it hurt real bad.
And damn him more because Aelin opened her mouth to say the answer.
No. no. no.
Was she willing to tell the answer of the question for Rowan's sake? She shouldn't. the idea of one Wyrdkey in Maeve's hand…
No.
So Rowan lifted his head, teeth bared, his face savage with pain and rage. He knew she could read the word in his eyes, but he still said, "Don't."
The heat spread from her, warming the stones so swiftly that Rowan's blood turned to red steam. His companions swore and near- invisible shields rippled around them and their sovereign.
The gold in her eyes had shifted to flame. His fireheart. Maeve's face had drained of any blood.
Before Rowan knew what had happened, he heard the river steaming around them, and then shouting arose from the palace, from the city, as a flame, that did not burn or hurt, enveloped everything. The entire island was wreathed in wildfire. Like she had once done to Ramelle.
Doranelle was encased in her flame.