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The Queen of Terrasen was awoken by an insistent knocking on the door of her private chambers.
“Aelin,” she heard her cousin say impatiently. “I would not wake you at this hour, but there is a matter of the utmost urgency.”
She stirred. Male arms were still draped over her body, as they had been all night. Rowan was slowly drawing invisible circles on her thigh, and she had already forgotten the impatience in her cousin’s voice when Aedion spoke again.
“I’m coming in. I do hope you’re at least somewhat decent.”
Well, her nightgown was in shreds at the end of the enormous bed. Realizing she had no time to reach for her robe where it lay on the armchair at the other head of the room, Aelin did the best she could do with the furs that covered the bed. With a playful grin Rowan made to steal them from her, the bastard, but she managed to get herself covered before Aedion came to stand before the bed.
“Still running low on clothes, I take it.”
The growl that came from the prince lying beside her was anything but friendly. The playful smirk he had sported only seconds ago was gone. The only reason why Rowan hadn’t jumped on Aedion for bursting into their chambers and seeing more of Aelin than any other male was supposed to, was probably because Rowan was trying very hard to control his instincts. Aelin and Rowan had recently mated, and it was natural of him to want to bite the head off of any male who got too close to Aelin, even her cousin. Not that the Queen didn’t flash her canines to any female who spoke to Rowan, these days. Aedion found it hilarious and teased her to no end.
The animalistic instinct would wear off soon, Rowan had promised her, and so would the post-mating frenzy. Now, he was giving her an apologetic look, even while he couldn’t help but growl at her cousin, who just shook his head.
When they had mated, Rowan had told her that the average Fae male had trouble controlling it, and he was the most powerful full blooded Fae alive. Aelin could not blame him for his animalistic behavior; for the possessiveness, the protectiveness. No, she couldn’t find it in herself to be angry or to laugh at his face. Not when Lyria, his first mate, had been killed in his absence because he had not been careful enough.
“It was a joke, Prince. And I honestly thought you two were done by now,” Aedion muttered as he observed the two lovers. “And I hoped you would be properly attired.”
“Rowan is sorry,” Aelin supplied quickly. “And we will get dressed shortly. What is the matter?”
“A letter just came from Doranelle.” Aedion paused for a second, and the room seemed to chill. “Maeve is sending a convoy. Purely diplomatic, the letter says, but I reckon we should be ready for anything.”
Aelin nodded, and said, “We should contact Dorian and ask if a similar letter has reached his court too. If not, alert Adarlan of the potential danger. Dorian can send aid if necessary.”
It took Rowan less than a second to snap into warrior, practical mode. “Give me the letter.”
Aedion gently handed it. Rowan read it and passed it to Aelin.
It was addressed to ‘The Royal Court of Terrasen’. The gist was that the Fae Queen requested to send a diplomatic envoy to Orynth. ‘Demanded’ was more like it, since she claimed the convoy had already left the shores of Wendlyn.
“What is she plotting?” Aedion asked.
“Probably just to assess our strength. There isn’t much she can achieve with the half dozen people she is sending.”
“Unless she sent the Cadre,” Aelin whispered.
“She wouldn’t. She needs them close, now more than ever. Lorcan has already gone rogue once, she won’t let herself be unprotected twice.”
Aelin sighed in relief. The thought of Rowan’s former friends invading her territory made her shiver.
“Do you think the Ashryvers are behind this as well?”
Aelin could see in Aedion’s eyes that the thought pained him. Their first cousins, she thought bitterly, and with a tinge of hatred and rage. Their only living family, who had completely deserted them.
“They could be. If they are, it’s because she commanded them to be. They never act without consulting her first.”
Spineless bastards .
Aelin sat up straighter on the bed. “Why didn’t Maeve mention me? Why wasn’t the letter addressed to me in the first place?”
“She probably did not want to give you the satisfaction,” Aedion guessed. “To call you Queen, to call you her equal, she would have to sacrifice a great amount of pride.”
Aelin looked at Rowan for confirmation, he knew Maeve well. He nodded. “That is surely one reason. To unnerve you. And then there’s the matter of the members of your court. Lorcan must have reported back by now. I doubt Maeve would care much about Lysandra, as interesting as shapeshifters can be. And I’m sure she did not doubt my presence here, either. But Aedion… she must have learned about Aedion and his lineage.”
Aelin watched her cousin as his hand toyed with his sword before he asked, “Do you think my father knows?”
Rowan shook his head. “Unlikely. That would give us advantage in case she ever sent anyone to kill us. Your father would hesitate, or try to do something to prevent it.”
“True,” Aelin said, remembering that day of the battle. “Gavriel is the kindest of them. He was the only one who stopped to see if I was all right, and only because I look like your mother. If he knew you are his son…”
“So what do we do?” her cousin asked.
“We wait. We have no reason to believe the envoy is going to be a hostile one.”
Rowan was wrong. Utterly, completely wrong.
Aelin felt the flames cracking in her veins.
The envoy was indeed hostile, just in a way completely different from what they’d imagined. She had not come to jeopardize her reign, at least not directly.
She had come to taunt Aelin.
The Queen of Terrasen had been waiting for her arrival with her royal ass impatiently sat upon her throne, her court dismissed except for the members of her inner circle. Rowan was waiting for the carriage outside, in his animal form, so he could see who the envoy was in advance. Around noon, he flew into the throne room. When he shifted before her, he was laughing. Laughing.
“Rowan?” Aelin asked. She looked at Lysandra, who shook her head.
He only laughed more. “Rowan! Tell me what is going on.”
He tried to compose himself and paid Aelin no attention. “Fetch General Ashryver,” he told a guard instead. “He will want to see this.”
It was so unlike him that Aelin was actually worried for a moment. Then he went to stand beside her on the dais and his scent hit her, and all her doubts vanished, fast as they had come.
“Apologies, my love,” he said as he took her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it. “You’ve got nothing to worry about from the envoy. But I can’t say the same for her.”
“Her?” she asked, but before she could inquire further, Aedion entered the throne room.
“You might want to be here for what is about to happen,” Rowan simply said, a ghost of his earlier grin still lighting his face. Aedion had long before learned not to question the prince.
Aelin was going to kill her mate.
In a moment. She had to properly greet the envoy first.
“Remelle, dear. Welcome to Terrasen.”
The highborn Fae lady curtsied. “Aelin, such a pleasure to see you again.”
Actually, Aelin was not sure who she wanted to kill first.
Her mate, his former lover, Maeve, or her damned cousin who would not stop laughing. Before Remelle could turn her attention to Rowan, Aelin spoke again.
“I take it the journey was safe.”
“It was, thank you. And rather uneventful, too. I trust you and your court will be able to properly entertain me during my stay.”
Had she still been Celaena Sardothien, assassin and queen of the Underworld, she would have barked back an answer about just the type of entertainment Remelle could have in Orynth’s least popular brothel. But Aelin was a Queen of the Realms, receiving a diplomatic envoy from another ruler. She could not waste this chance.
It didn’t help that the last time she’d seen her, Remelle had threatened to have Aelin whipped. Whipped.
It didn’t help that Rowan had been hers, once.
Remelle wanted entertainment? So be it.
“We will try our best, Remelle dear. This,” she motioned for her friend to come forward. “Is Lady Lysandra. I think you will find her interesting enough.”
Lysandra curtsied and grinned. “I hope you like ghost leopards.”
“No offense, but I find the males in this room so much more interesting than the ladies…” (At that, Aelin had half a mind made up to burn her alive then and there.) “Hello, Rowan. It is so good to see you again, although I must say, the circumstances are never right.”
When Rowan merely shrugged, not deigning her of any attention, Remelle turned to Aedion, who had stopped laughing, thank the Wyrd.
“And this must be Gavriel’s son. I hoped you’d be even better looking than the Wolf –“
“And he is,” Aelin interrupted. “Few males are better looking than my cousin Aedion. But enough chatter. Remelle’s journey was long and tiring, she surely needs rest. Lysandra, would you be so kind to accompany her to her chambers?”
“Shall we give her the ones next to the Ellywe ambassador?”
“I am sure Lady Remelle would find residing next to a human repulsive. She can stay on the second floor, east wing.”
There was a reason those chambers were vacant. They were right below hers and Rowan’s apartments.
Her mate noticed her grin and told Remelle she was dismissed, the first words he had spoken since she had entered the room.
The Fae lady had no choice but to follow Lysandra. When they were almost out of the room, Aelin called for them again.
“Oh, and Lysandra? Be sure to tell a servant to draw a bath for Remelle. The journey was long and the Lady needs one.”
Her friend’s grin mirrored her own.
“Maeve should send my former lovers this way more often,” Rowan whispered on her hair as soon as his breathing resumed its normal pace. “I do love it when you’re that jealous.”
With her heart still trying to fly out of her ribcage, Aelin needed a moment longer to recover before she could answer.
Fae instincts had taken over and she’d been on him the second Remelle had left the throne room. Hadn’t guards been present, she would have taken him then and there. Instead she had dragged him to the nearest set of empty rooms and fucked him, harder than usual.
She wasn’t proud of her territorial and animalistic side, but she would not apologize for it. And it didn’t seem like Rowan minded.
“She dares coming here,” Aelin spat. “To my kingdom, into my palace, and she starts flirting with you and Aedion.”
“It takes two to flirt, Aelin,” Rowan reassured her and kissed her brow.
“Well, she had better watch her mouth. I won’t tolerate another insult.”
After a couple of minutes of comfortable silence, Rowan spoke again.
“She knows. Not about the mating bond maybe, but Lorcan must have reported something to Maeve.”
Aelin got up and started recollecting her clothes from where they’d been scattered on the floor. “He did seem rather inclined to think that I only keep you around to fuck you.”
Her mate smirked. “Why are you getting dressed then?”
A wicked grin spread on the Queen’s face. “Because I want the next several rounds to be in our room. Where she can hear us.”
They had not been quiet.
They had also, how negligent of them, left the window open.
Aelin was quite pleased with herself.
An hour before dinner she had Lysandra go to Remelle to extend a formal invitation to dine with the Queen.
They were discussing the details of the demi-Fae migration, as Remelle insisted on calling it, while savoring the first course of their dinner. Aelin had been the one to bring up the matter, claiming it would be her pleasure for Terrasen to welcome all the demi-fae that wished to leave Wendlyn.
“I can’t speak for Adarlan or any of the smaller kingdoms,” the queen said. “But the demi-Fae would have a place in Orynth. Or in the country, should they wish it.”
Rowan nodded imperceptibly.
“They could find work at my palace, or in the city. Even –”
“I understand you have the demi-Fae’s best interests at heart,” Remelle suddenly interrupted Aelin. “Which only seems fair, considering your extremely handsome cousin belongs to that race,” she spat the last word like the insult she had doubtlessly meant it to be.
“I remember you were serving as a scullery maid along demi-Fae at Mistward the first time I saw you. And look where you are now. In your own palace, with a crown on your head and a full blooded Fae prince as your lover. You are resourceful, I have to admit.”
Aelin only needed a fraction of a second for the killing calm to set in. She would not let Remelle get to her nerves. As much as every fiber of her ached with the feeling of embers burning, she would not, could not, yield to her power. Not this time.
Rowan caught her gaze and her vision cleared. Her beautiful mate. Who, like her, was waging a silent war on every one of his instincts not to speak up and defend her in the way his nature, his oath and their bond commanded him to do. Her beautiful mate, who would not take away her right to prove that she could manage this on her own, in whatever manner she wished. Who was looking at her, his eyes ablaze, like her fire was flowing into him.
“I am Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. This crown belongs to me by laws of blood and triumph. I did not just become a queen, Lady Remelle, nor am I playing at being one. I was born to be the Queen of Terrasen, yes. But I earned every inch of this palace and my throne. Every one of my people. I am not ashamed of where I’ve been or of the sins I’ve committed to get what is mine. I have slaughtered, cheated and lied. I have been a scullery maid, yes. But also a slave. An assassin. A slave again, to the man who murdered my family. A rebel princess, some still dare call me. Let them. I couldn’t give a damn of what you or Maeve think.”
Remelle was about to reply but Aelin didn’t give her chance to. “But my patience grows thin, and should you insult me again...” she didn’t finish the sentence, letting the open threat linger in the air.
As in continuation to her speech, Rowan cleared his throat and spoke. “Now Remelle, I am sure you haven’t forgotten how your last encounter with Aelin ended... those burns pained you for weeks, I seem to recall you wrote me.”
Aelin felt a feral smile spread across her face at the memory. It was soon replaced by a growl as she watched Remelle put a hand on Rowan’s shoulder.
“You stopped her then, I am sure you will stop her the next time she is unable to control her magic,” she simply said, and squeezed him, and Rowan hissed as he disentangled himself from her, and Aelin knew, knew she was going to explode. Not yet, she told her flames.
“You will watch your next words,” she commanded. “And you will learn to listen, the next time someone doesn’t want your filthy hands on them.” She was glowing by this point, she knew. There was no way to stop her rage, nor her flames, now. “And don’t you ever, under any circumstance, touch my mate again.”
Remelle did not give her the satisfaction of looking shocked. That bitch. “Rumor of your mating has reached Maeve’s ears. My Queen also wondered whether Rowan would stick around to protect you, once war comes. Perhaps he doesn’t intend on staying? Is that why there is only one throne?”
He was stunned, and Aelin could not read him, for once. Seeing he would not speak, she answered in his stead, using the same words he had given her when they had talked about the matter. “Rowan has no interest in being anything more than my mate. He can be my husband and consort if he wishes it... I have my inner circle and court to advise me. I do not require a king.”
“Is that so, Rowan? Maeve wanted me to ask you about Lyria. How are you coping with that grief? Does it keep you awake at night, as it always did when we used to lie together? How are you faring with the knowledge that you are going to lose Aelin the way you lost your first mate? That in the end, you will not have been able to protect either?”
It was not the threat to her life, neither that bitch’s certainty that they would be able to kill her. No, it was what she’d said to Rowan. The fact that she’d dared bring up Lyria, knowing that it would undo him. Aelin could see the pain in his face, as he did nothing to hide it; feel the guilt he still felt, centuries later, through their bond.
She would not stand another word of this.
This visit had not been a diplomatic one. Maeve had known all along what she was doing, and her goal was achieved.
“Get out,” Aelin hissed. “Get out before I kill you with my bare hands. I have sat through insult after insult, through the threats against my life... but not this. Never this. Go home and tell your queen you got her the war she wanted.”
Remelle only smiled. Aelin hissed again.
“I mean it. Get the fuck out of my kingdom before I change my mind and kill you right here.”
“Rowan,” she said. Quiet as a whisper. “Rowan,” she said again as she embraced him. He was still seated, and she cradled his head on her chest. Aelin felt her cheeks become hot as her eyes watered. She could not stand to see her mate like this, motionless, his eyes empty.
“Rowan.” A prayer. A promise. She caressed his face, and tried to send all her love through their immortal bond.
He inhaled sharply. “The things she said...” His voice was hoarse.
“Are not true. Don’t let her words touch you. She wins if you do.” Aelin bent her head to kiss his brow.
“She threatened you,” he said weakly.
“She hurt you,” she retorted firmly. “I will destroy anyone who hurts you.” Her lips trailed across his ear. “You’re mine,” she whispered. “And you have to believe me when I say I will not let anyone, anything, separate us. Not ever.”
His arms tightened around her waist, where they had been limp seconds before. “I know.”
Aelin understood that was the best he could offer her at the moment, as the ghost of Lyria still danced before his eyes, and would for a while, she knew.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said faintly. She didn’t need to say more. “It will always be my fault.” She was almost happy to hear some vigor come back to his voice. “And I will always carry the shame in my heart.” And tattoed on his face and body.
Aelin was tempted to leave it at that, but... “I cannot talk to the dead. But I know that,” she made herself say it, that name she never spoke, out of respect and fear of what it might conjure. “– that Lyria would not want you to be haunted by grief and guilt. She would want you to be happy.”
“I am. Gods, Aelin, don’t ever think you’re some kind of replacement or –”
Her heart broke for him, if he suddenly thought her uncertain of his love for her. “I know, I know,” she reassured him quickly, not wanting him to draw comparisons or –
“I love you more than anything in the world. More than I’ve ever loved–” Her, she knew he meant, but he could not bring himself to say it. It would not be fair to say it. She understood. He had been mated before, and of course, there had been lovers. He had loved and lost, and yet Aelin did not need reassuring. She didn’t want reassuring, because she had history too, and knew full well how he was feeling.
I love you more too . Their bond didn’t need explaining, any more than something as primal as breathing did.
That night, they forsake their royal chambers in favor of a walk in the silent gardens of Orynth’s white palace. They sat on a blanket, only the stars watching over them. At some point, Rowan drew Aelin closer, letting her lean on his chest, and enclosed her in his arms, settling their interlaced hands against her steady heartbeat.
“I was thinking about what you said earlier, to Remelle.”
“There are several things that I said to her. Which one in particular?”
But Rowan only shook his head.
The next morning, they had just finished recounting a brisk summary of the night’s events at the breakfast table. Aedion and Lysandra left soon after, leaving Aelin and Rowan to sit alone.
“What?”Aelin asked, noticing Rowan’s stare.
“You’ll punch me in the face,” he just said.
“You know I will anyway, if you don’t tell me.”
“Just – hear me out.” Rowan sighed. “What Remelle said last night… it made me think. About us. We’re Mated, Aelin, and that’s all that matters to me. But your people are human. A mating bond is not something they necessarily care about, or even fully comprehend. Most of the population of Orynth knows me and what I am to you, but there are still some who whisper in the brothels and inns of your capital, let alone in the other cities and the countryside. What is the Queen’s lover doing on her war council, they ask, this Fae stranger always standing beside her throne… I know you don’t care about these things, Aelin, but I beg you, we must do something.”
“They don’t have any right to –“
Rowan put a hand up to stop her. “First rule of being a monarch: your people always have the right, Aelin.”
“I don’t see why this bothers you so much,” she just said.
“It bothers me that I put you in a certain light. And I was thinking about what you said last night, that –“
“That you could be my husband and consort if you so wished,” she finished for him, finally catching up on his logic.
He grinned at that. Are you asking?
Prat.
He took her hand across the table. “It seems the best course of action to me. Unless you were planning on marrying Dorian or one of your Ashryver cousins, that is.”
“Now you sound just like my councilors, by the Wyrd. We need to strengthen our political ties with Adarlan. Are you serious? How could I ever think of marrying someone else, when it’s you I’m Mated to?”
Rowan just looked at her, his eyes shining and their bond thrumming between them. Aelin was still smiling when the servant came in.
“Fetch my cousin and tell Aedion to call in a council meeting,” she told the serving girl, excitement gushing from every letter. “Prince Rowan and I are going to be married.”