Their Fireheart

Chapter Twenty Four

Rowan let out a dry chuckle, while Azriel murmured, "Too bad you didn't have that dress in Prythian. I think I'd have rather enjoyed watching the High Lords burst into flames when you walked in."

Cassian's answering bark of laughter echoed through my bones and blood. I prayed it wasn't the last time I heard it.

Aedion grumbled at us when we arrived at the carriage, but a pointed look from Rowan had him falling mercifully quiet, and we climbed inside without fanfare. The atmosphere in the carriage was heavy and tense with apprehension as I forced myself to tell them what to expect.

The city streets were nearly empty, and far too soon, we'd arrived at the open front gates of the Keep. The carriage rolled up the gravel drive, passing by the manicured lawn that framed the stone estate. I paused as we came to a stop at the foot of the steps, sweeping my gaze over the males crammed into the small space.

"Be on your guard, but keep your mouths shut. Especially with the Valg commander," I sent a sharp glare at my cousin, then locked eyes with each of my mates in turn. "No matter what happens, what you hear or see, I need you to shut up and stay out of my way. No psychotic territorial bullshit."

My mates nodded, eyes locked on me, frames tense and ready for bloodshed.

I could only pray that they would actually listen. Because it wouldn't be their mate in there, not tonight. I could never be Aelin in that monstrosity of a building.

"Charming," Aedion huffed, put out by my demands.

I didn't respond as I stepped out of the carriage without looking back, leaving Aelin and my cloak behind. Stepping into a skin that was as familiar as it was painful. Celaena's.

I was halfway up the marble steps when the carved oak doors swung open, flooding the entryway with shimmering light. And it wasn't a butler that welcomed us.

"Welcome home," Arobynn purred.

With a grandiose gesture, he beckoned us into the cavernous entry hall, not taking his eyes off me. "And welcome to your friends," he added insincerely.

Trailing after him, I didn't turn to watch as I heard Azriel and Cassian move around the carriage towards the trunk in the back. Listening intently to them opening the compartment and yanking out the chained, hooded figure even as I appeared entirely unconcerned.

"Your favor," I drawled as they hauled him to his feet.

The Valg commander thrashed and stumbled in my mates' grip, the hood over his head swaying with every step. A low, vicious hissing noise crept out as they led him towards the house.

"Ah," Arobynn said tightly, "I had assumed you would take advantage of the servants entrance for our ... guest."

Of course he did. Which is why I hadn't.

One never knew when the King's men were watching after all. Wouldn't it be a shame if one caught sight out our captive being dragged up the stone steps of Arobynn's fortress?

Still, there was nothing but warmth in his lying silver eyes as he held out his hands to me, no visible weapons on him. The bastard had even elected to wear green - green for Terrasen, though most would assume it was to compliment his auburn hair.

Another game, another way for him to confuse his intentions, his allegiance. One I wouldn't be falling for.

I could feel my mates' agitation at Arobynn's too-familiar gaze, sense their bristling anger, Aedion's disgust. I ignored it all.

Arobynn captured my hands in his, squeezing gently as he raked his lecherous gaze up and down my body in a way that had me suppressing the urge to vomit. "You look ravishing, darling. Though I'd expect nothing less." He leaned closer, his nose almost brushing the nape of my neck as he sniffed at me. "You smell divine, too. I'm glad my gift was put to good use."