Rising Flames | Throne of Glass

40

'Word was sent to me to come here with as many men as possible,' the woman said, dismounting her horse swiftly. That horse was a rutting Asterion horse. One of Aedion's soldiers went up to take the mare by the reins carefully and lead her away.

'Who are you?' Aedion asked, walking closer, a hand hanging loosely by the hilt of his sword.

'Ansel of Briarcliff,' the young woman said, lifting her chin slightly. 'And you?'

'Aedion Ashryver,' he said. He cocked his head. 'Who sent you here?'

'A friend. I'm here to pay my debt to Celaena Sardothien.'

Aedion blinked. What in Erilea had his cousin done so that this woman owed her such a large debt?

'Please fill me in on the details tomorrow,' Ansel sighed. 'My men need rest; we rode hard. Tell me about the plans and this cousin of yours then.'

She nodded her head to him and walked away to where tents were already being set up, removed her helmet and tucked it under her arm.

Aedion watched as she exchanged a few words with one of her men. As if feeling the weight of his gaze, she turned, flashed her teeth in a wolffish smile at him and walked into her tent.

Aedion liked her feistiness already.

~

Bargaining was difficult. Especially if it was trying to make a deal with a 'stubborn old bastard', as Nesryn put it.

A week passed in Skull's Bay, with still no luck in persuading Rolfe to join them. He wanted nothing to do with anything.

Dixon was wandering along the shore alone, bored and with nothing better to do. Nox was somewhere further back, inspecting that old ruined chain tower.

She sat down and scooped up a handful of pebbles, inspecting their shiny and dull colours.

Crunching of boots upon shingle sounded from behind, and Dixon didn't turn her head.

When she smelt the beer and a stinking odour, it was already too late. The drunk man grabbed onto her sleeve, and leered at her, revealing a row of blackened gums and golden canines. Dixon didn't scream - she wasn't the screaming sort of person. She shook him off and hurriedly got up, heading back for the inn. The man stumbled behind her. 'You're... a pretty thing,' he slurred.

Dixon shook her head, ignoring him.

He sped up, grabbing the back of her tunic with a filthy hand and she whirled, punching his face.

Y-ow.

She immediately tried to avoid wincing at the painful impact. The man's nose collided with her knuckles, and he tottered back, staggering. 'Aw, girlie... why did you do that?' came a moan.

'Get the hell away from me.' She was running now, ankles screaming as they slipped on the uneven pebbles. Groaning, the drunk scrambled after her, and lunged for her waist, drawing a jewelled dagger.

She let out a gasp as they fell, and her hands shot out to absorb the impact.

In that split moment, there was a ripple.