Rising Flames | Throne of Glass

52

The rebels had originally agreed to meet at Perranth. Lysandra and Ren had fulfilled their task, having brought Aedion and the Bane there. Celaena's call was answered, for Ansel of Briarcliff had come with her army of men, all well trained and prepared to fight. Post a few months, Rolfe arrived at the port of Suria.

There, a small force of Rolfe's men including Nesryn, Chaol, Dorian and Dixon parted from the others, and days were spent as they rode for Perranth. The numbers of Terrasen's army had risen greatly by now, though still not enough to oppose that of Adarlan's. It was unfortunate that Terrasen was located right in the middle of Erawan's and Maeve's dispute.

The sun rose and set many times, and all they did was travel onwards, never daring to stop for too long. Dixon, now a kestrel, rarely returned to human form, now, nor did anyone oblige her to do so.

Many times Nesryn had caught Dorian and Chaol trailing behind, making up all sorts of feeble excuses to linger behind. Nesryn's temper had finally wore thin one day. 'You can grant your manhood's desires whenever you want,' she'd snapped, 'but only once this war is over.'

After a week, the Bane finally came into sight: a sprawling mass of tents and soldiers and metal. A figure broke off from the camp, galloping steadily towards them on horse. And despite herself, Nesryn cracked a small smile.

The figure dismounted, strolling the next few paces closer. 'I was starting to think you'd never arrive,' Ren greeted them flatly. He didn't smile, nor was there any sign of relief or approval on his face. But after a few heartbeats of silence, he grunted, 'It's good to see you again.'

And despite his frowning, brooding aura, Nesryn admitted she'd missed his sorry ass.

~

Once Nox had led away the rest of their company, Ren turned to Nesryn. 'Is it necessary for those two to come with us?'

Nesryn flicked her gaze back to the two hooded figures behind them. It would cause too much chaos parading the Crown Prince of Adarlan around in plain view, now scruffy and very nearly beyond recognisable, along with the Captain. 'Yes,' she said.

Dixon was fluttering by Nesryn's ear as a moth as they walked. A hovering bird would most likely be shot down and served as a meal.

'I'm sorry for the interruption,' she heard Ren say as he pushed open a tent curtain, 'but we have some visitors.'

A man of strong stature and golden hair stood as the small entourage filtered in through the entrance. A woman with wine-red hair looked up slowly, brows furrowing in interest. 'You must be Nesryn Faliq,' the Wolf of the North said.

'You are correct. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, general.' Nesryn bowed to him, then to the woman.

The woman smiled back, a fiendish sort of grin. 'Ansel of Briarcliff. I hope we will become close acquaintances.'

Nesryn noticed a wild, wolffish resemblance in the two leaders.

Aedion Ashryver smiled, too, the sort of smile that involved baring the teeth a lot. And gods, he really did resemble a wolf, if not in appearance then in spirit. 'Call me Aedion.' He jerked a chin at Dorian and Chaol. 'Who are they?'

Dorian moved first, raising an arm and draw back his hood. And despite the dishevelled, unkempt look as a result of the past few weeks, it was evident who that face belonged to.

Aedion's face slackened. 'Shit, Faliq.'

'Shit doesn't cover half of it,' Nesryn sighed.

~

For days on end, all they could do was wait. Midwinter was approaching fast, and they had begun to ration the food. Prey was more scarce, and the temperature had started to plummet drastically.

Aedion, having just come out of the daily gathering with the other leaders and generals, rubbed his face with a large palm. It was stressful, to say the least, and those countless sleepless nights had started taking its toll on him.

When he lifted his hand away, he noticed the tiniest of white on his finger. It disappeared as soon as it appeared. Then another white blot landed, light like dust before vanishing into the smallest speck of a crystal.

Frozen dirt crunched behind him. 'It's snowing.'

He sighed, turning to face Ansel. 'Indeed. It's about time, too. Happy Yulemas Eve, I suppose.'

Ansel watched him, hair whipping across her face from the wind, lashing like a sandstorm. Her cloak was fastened tightly around her, the hem fluttering limply.

'Cold?' he asked.

'My men and I have never tried to go through these conditions for such a long period of time. But we'll be fine,' she added, upon seeing Aedion open his mouth. 'We don't need your sympathy.'

'I wasn't going to offer you pity,' he replied simply. 'How is everyone settling in? I'm sorry for giving you the task of looking after the- after Dorian. I hope he hasn't been too much of a handful.'

She laughed, the sound brittle and tense. And Aedion didn't know what to feel in that moment. He shifted - as if to move closer, but after a heartbeat of hesitation, remained where he was. Ansel uttered, 'Dorian is fine. I just hope his control will be, too.'

The prince had accidentally iced a section between two tents. Apparently his emotions had gotten the better of him - or, as Nesryn had put it, he'd been riled up; pushed to the point of breaking - made unstable to the point he'd exploded. It was like carrying round gunpowder. An explosive that couldn't be defused, as none of them had magic nor knew how to control it. From then on, Aedion had ordered Darrow to stay away, and Ansel to watch over the prince.

'How long will this last?' Ansel asked suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

And her voice was so, so unnaturally muted. As if someone had extinguished her blazing fire with a torrent of rain.

Aedion knew that feeling. The waiting, the nerves, the pain - all of it.

And he hated that he had no better answer than, 'I don't know.'

Ansel nodded slowly, then began to walk away.

'Wait.'

But she'd already walked away.

~

Morning came too early. Light pierced in through the tent curtains like blades, and Aedion winced as he sat up. 'What is it?'

There was no reply, and Aedion sat there, eyes narrowed against the blinding gold.

Gold.

The light faded momentarily as a silhouette appeared in the entrance.

A strong feminine figure, blades strapped to almost every inch of her skin.

Aedion frowned.

'Still don't recognise me, you hopeless bastard?'

He stood then.

Took one step forwards, as if in a daze.

'Aelin,' came a broken croak from his throat.

A small, sad smile.

And he barrelled into her, clenching her tightly.

And she gripped him back and she was laughing - he was laughing - and they were both crying hot, steaming tears and he couldn't stop saying her name, as if she would suddenly vanish into this air.

'Happy Yulemas, Aedion,' Aelin whispered.