Their Fireheart

Chapter Twenty-Three

Conversation slowly resumed as I made my way back over to the Night Court, a heavy leaden feeling within my chest. I sunk into my offered chair in a complete daze, heartbreak and desolation flooding me. I don't know how I had ever truly thought that Lyria was my mate, because this one, unconscious rejection from Aelin threatened to destroy me in ways that even Lyria's death couldn't touch.

I answered proffered questions in a perfunctory manner for the next hour or so before Rhysand rose to his feet, mercifully ending my misery as he announced, "I think that is all we will accomplish for now. I suggest we return to our respective territories to raise our armies and further develop our strategies. We will be in touch."

By the time we winnowed back to the House of Wind, I was practically catatonic. It was all I could do to keep my typical icy mask in place, because internally I was a swirling storm of despair, misery and self-loathing. All of the times at Mistward when I knocked Aelin down, sometimes literally, when all she needed was a helping hand, ran through my mind. Like the time I threatened to whip her, unknowing of her past as a slave. Or all the times I called her a coward, a weakling, and that she would be better off dead. I had nearly destroyed the brightest light in all of the realms, and there was nothing I could do to remedy my actions.

I was the most pathetic excuse for a mate in the history of all of our realms. I could clearly see now that I had been projecting my own insecurities and fears onto her, but that didn't matter one bit now. I had utterly annihilated any chance that my Fireheart, my true mate, would ever look at me with anything but disdain, and I deserved every single ounce of her derision.

Silently, I stomped towards my rooms, praying for absolution while knowing I would never receive it.

Not that I deserved to.

Aelin

Back at the House of Wind, I was a hurricane of emotion. Triumph, confusion and fear warred within me as I fought to understand the events of the last few hours. I had successfully manipulated Tarquin into handing over the Book of Breathings, and the High Lords had finally agreed to a reluctant alliance against the Valg. For all intents and purposes, it had been a victorious few days.

But my mind kept returning to the fact that Helion had clearly said something about my mate status to Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, as well as the odd as fuck interaction with Rowan.

The heated looks I had received from the three Night Court males indicated some level of attraction, or rage, frankly, both were possible. I mean, I knew they were attracted to me - first of all, who wouldn't be? But there was a fair chance that they felt robbed of a true mating experience, and upset at the idea of being saddled to me. I almost wanted to laugh at that. If they thought it was unfair to be mated to a female with multiple mates, just wait till they found out I wouldn't survive the year.

There was something about Rowan's reaction to Tarquin though, that kept tugging at my mind. I knew Maeve still wanted me alive, but he didn't seem to be only operating based on that instruction. If I didn't know any better, I would almost think he seemed...Jealous?

But no. Rowan hated me. I knew that. Hell, I understood it. I was a coward, I was weak, and the realms would be better off once I paid the price as nameless.

His face was perfectly expressionless as he stormed off towards his room, revealing nothing. But it was then that I knew, that I couldn't keep this a secret. I had too much to do, to plan, to win, for this secret to be hanging over my head and taking up precious space in my thoughts. Especially with Rhsy, Cass and Az knowing something about my mates, it would only cause more conflict. And, unfortunately, I owed an explanation to Rowan first.