Son of Night and Daughter of Stars

Chapter 57: The Best-Laid Plans

Rowan Whitethorn was so, so tired. 

He could feel it in his bones, in his blood. Whatever Marzanna had done to him, it had lingered. Even Yrene hadn't been able to take it all away. It wasn't just the wound in his chest, it was whatever had been done to keep him paralyzed while she'd stolen Aelin from their bed. It felt like that frozen, helpless feeling had taken root in his very core, hiding there to torment him. 

He pushed through it. No matter how tired he was, Aelin was more important. She would always be more important. Every time he'd gone after her, she'd been all he could think about. When they fought the Valg together at Mistward. When he'd lost her to Maeve, then the Lock. 

But this time was different. This time, he had more than her to worry about. He had Estelle to think of as well. And Reave, and Aneryn, Talen, and Genevieve. His family. His whole world. 

At least he'd managed to convince his son to stay behind. If he died, if Aelin and Estelle died, Reave was this kingdom's last line of defense. Rowan knew how powerful his son was, however little he'd actually trained himself. He'd protect his siblings, and his kingdom, with his life, however much he wanted to come with them to find Aelin and Estelle. 

Feyre grasped Rowan's hand, catching his attention. "Rowan? You ready?" 

Rowan squeezed the High Lady's hand. He would forever be grateful for her and her mate's impeccable timing today, even if this didn't work. "Ready." He turned forward, inhaling sharply as Artemis and Rhys came to Feyre's other side, Cassian coming to stand beside Rowan. 

Lysandra, the only one of their court he hadn't been able to convince to stay behind, took his hand, smiling grimly at him. "Let's get our Queen back, Prince." 

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Estelle's head shot up at the sound of footsteps. She turned, and met Amandla's eyes. Amandla pursed her lips, nodding. Marzanna. Aelin. 

Estelle got to her feet, ignoring her spinning vision as Marzanna stepped into the cave. 

"Ah. Good. You're awake," Marzanna said, the fire in her palms bouncing flickering light off her face. "Come. They're almost ready." 

Estelle backed away from her mother's beckoning hand. "Who's almost ready? For what?" 

Marzanna smirked. "All will be revealed, in time. Come." Ignoring Estelle and Amandla's protests, she grabbed their arms and dragged them outside. The bright sun told Estelle enough about how long she'd been out, and it did nothing to help her reeling vision. She stumbled after Marzanna, barely able to keep up. Amandla put up no fight, though her mouth was set in a stubborn line. She met Estelle's gaze, her eyes trying to convey some message. 

Marzanna shoved them both forward, and Estelle barely caught herself from face-planting into the grass. She blinked, trying to bring things back into focus. But when she could see clearly again, she wished she'd just closed her eyes. 

Estelle stood in a circle of Wyrdmarks, written sloppily in fresh blood. Estelle raised her head and saw Marzanna's arm was bandaged, a spot of scarlet blood seeping through the white fabric. 

"What's this?" Amandla demanded, standing in a similar ring. "What are you doing?" 

Marzanna paced in front of them. She glanced at Amandla over her shoulder, blonde hair cascading down her back. "You'll see, Valkyrie." 

Amandla snarled, and stepped forward. The Wyrdmarks at her feet began to glow, and Estelle yelled, "Stop!!" a second too late. 

Amandla's foot crossed the line, and red light zinged upward, tracing the lines of her body. She seized, falling backward as a cry escaped her lips. She hit the grass, breathing heavily as she snatched her foot back. "What the hell?"