Rising Flames | Throne of Glass

57

At long last, Aelin Galathynius found herself outside the assembly tent of Lords of Terrasen. Anxiously. Waiting.

Rowan and Aedion were both with her.

'Stop shuffling about,' Rowan growled.

'I can't help it.' Aelin was nervous. She knew why Darrow wanted her. She just wasn't prepared.

Painfully at last, the tent flaps opened, and a young boy poked his head out. 'The Lords want you now.'

Rowan sniffed, but other than that, the three of them walked in silence into the tent.

Weylan Darrow and the lords of Iron, Gunnar and Sloane were sat around a circular table, some with hands clasped on the table before them, all with blank, disinterested looks on their faces.

After five seconds of painful silence, Darrow spoke. 'This is your entourage?'

Aelin met his hard stare with one of her own. 'Yes.'

She was rewarded with a sneer from Darrow. It seemed he was the lords' spokesperson. The other men didn't seem keen on opening their mouths at all. 'Pathetic,' Darrow said. 'You're a disgrace to Terrasen and the throne.'

Rowan snarled, a clear threat etched in the very sound, but Aelin flicked her fingers, warning him to stay down. Rowan stayed down.

Darrow continued, 'You do not have a court - this is not satisfactory to be even called one - nor do you have supporters - how are you expected to lead the people?'

At her silence, one of the other lords decided to speak up. The fat of his chin hung down over his neck like a flapping door that shook as he uttered his words. 'Weylan Darrow along with the Lords of Gunnar, Iron and Sloane refuse to acknowledge you as the rightful ruler of Terrasen.'

Aelin had been expecting this, yet, at hearing these words, the blood in her body seemed to have chilled despite the fire in her veins.

Aedion was still level-headed enough to speak. 'She does have supporters.'

'What, more of your mutant kind?'

Rowan's mind, in contrast, though sharp, was built for battle, not political discussion. His already-blank face seemed to turn even colder, taking on the appearance of when they'd first met. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a petrifying grimace, fangs glinting, and along with the utter iciness in his pine green eyes, it would have made anyone reconsider. The other lords blanched, but to his credit, Darrow didn't flinch. 'Why aren't they here, then?'

Rowan's face twitched.

'Behave,' Aelin hissed under her breath. In a different scenario, she would have admired Darrow for his ability to irk the great Fae warrior as so, were it not for the fact she also hated Weylan's guts.

Straightening, she met Darrow's critical stare. 'I have not chosen them all to accompany me today. Some, you will find in this camp. Others are on their way. Fenrys Moonbeam has pledged his loyalty to me.'

A flicker of recognition and undiluted loathing flashed through Darrow's face, the first sign of pure emotion he'd revealed upon their meeting. 'That monster - to lead as consort? Are you out of your mind?'

The other lords chorused their agreement with Darrow.

'I won't accept it.'

'It's out of the question.'

Aelin started, 'Give me time-'

'We cannot give you time to prove your so-called mate is worthy. He is a danger to every species known to Erilea. I'd have him killed, if I could.'

'He'd kill you before you could even lift a finger.'

'It's that sort of thinking, Aelin Galathynius, that will get you nowhere as a queen.' Darrow's patronising voice prickled down her spine, and she shifted on her feet stiffly. 'That thing cannot rule. Even if you had him bound by a blood oath, in which, I presume you have not, I highly suggest, Aelin, that you consider rethinking your choices. We are done here.'

And with that, the Lords stood and departed one by one, each levelling their own disapproving stare at her as they did.

Aedion sighed once the tent was empty. 'He does have a point, Aelin.'

She rubbed her temples with her forefinger and thumb. That had been much more intense than she had accounted for. 'I know.'

'I suppose,' Aedion stated, 'it would help if you performed a blood oath to solidify your court. And having Fenrys Moonbeam stand with us in this battle will certainly prove to be handy, that is, if such a thing is possible.' Her cousin suddenly paused. 'Can I ask, though, what in. Erilea are you doing with Fenrys Moonbeam?'

'We're mates.'

'What.'

The ghost of an amused expression drifted across Rowan's features as he beheld Aedion's reaction.

'Connall and Enya. Fenrys and I.'

Aedion scratched his chin. 'I do suppose blood calls to blood.'

'It's strange how fate works,' Rowan said.

'Indeed,' was all Aedion could say.

~

Dorian, much to Rowan's fury, had only recently - and sheepishly - admitted he may have magic. Nevermind how he came to have it, Rowan was having no more bullshit. Aelin was passed onto Enda for training whilst Rowan oversaw Dorian.

And Dorian, now, was positively crying into his dinner.

Aelin, sat on the other side of him on the bed, was glad that he seemed to have no hatred for the Fae, but his newfound deeply-installed fear didn't seem to be the best alternative, either.

'He's not that harsh once you get to know him,' she attempted at soothing. 'He's like a marshmallow.'

'He's like a marshmallow who wants to kill me!' bawled Dorian into Chaol's stomach. 'Do you see the way he glares at me with those hawkish eyes-'

Chaol sighed through his nose. 'I didn't know I had to sign up for this bullshit too when I agreed to become your partner.'

'But you love me still, right?'

The brown-haired smiled a little. 'Of course, you daft idiot.'

Aelin grinned, having already grown a soft spot for the both of them. Whether they were royalty or not, their company was something she enjoyed very much.

Dorian opened his mouth. 'You know, I-'

He didn't get to finish his sentence. There was a great commotion outside, and above all noises there was the sound of thundering hooves and a single voice that cried aloud.

Aelin leapt off the bed, grabbing her discarded cloak. She bundled herself tightly in it before peering outside.

A single man on horseback panted there, plain terror etched in his eyes.

'The port of Suria is under attack! We are outnumbered- please, help us before it's too late.'

Aelin watched as her cousin appeared, barking several orders. 'Ansel. Take your men and aid what is left of Rolfe's fleet. Bring any survivors back here.'

Aelin stepped forwards. 'May I go too?'

'No.' Aedion's voice was firm. 'You're staying here.'

[211028]

i want to stick darrow in a gutter