Their Fireheart

Chapter Twenty Five

I'd barely managed to cling to the shreds of my self-control when he'd demanded we leave her down there with him - alone - but I could tell it was what Aelin wanted.

And as difficult as it was, I'd always give her what she wanted.

Unless she wanted a life without me in it. That would never happen. Even if I had to spend the rest of my existence watching her from a distance. She'd never get rid of me now.

The fact that she was in her fae form - and capable of shredding him to pieces in a heartbeat - was the only thing that brought me a small bit of comfort.

Still, waiting uselessly in the drawing room while we left Aelin alone with those two vile creatures had been nothing short of torture. The five of us spent the entire time pacing and growling, Lysandra doing the best she could to calm and reassure us, to keep us from falling over the edge of insanity.

It was a close call.

The sight of her golden hair when she'd finally emerged was like the breath of air that saved you from drowning.

I'd forced myself to stay perfectly still when she'd entered the drawing room, greeting Lysandra with a reluctance that was unfamiliar. The emptiness in her eyes had me forcing down a snarl. It was an effort to remain stoic, to not demand to know what had happened in the basement - especially as Arobynn trailed after her, his disgusting gaze not wavering from my mate.

But I'd done it. And I hadn't said a word when we'd been placed strategically around the table, the bastard alienating Aelin as much as he could. So now, we sat – playing at a congenial dinner party - Aedion at the left of Arobynn, followed by me and Rhysand, while Cassian and Azriel sat on Lysandra's right.

No one spoke as servants silently served the first course - some sort of tomato bisque that tasted like ash on my tongue. They didn't even look at the assembled guests, and something told me they'd die before they breathed a word of who dined here tonight, though I doubted it was due to any form of genuine loyalty.

Rather, it spoke to the fact that Arobynn was far from a forgiving master. And the staff was all too aware of the consequences of upsetting him.

It wasn't until the first course had been cleared away that Arobynn finally broke the oppressive quiet, his voice grating to my ears.

"I have to say," he mused, "I wasn't expecting you five to be so ... reserved. Unless my protegee scared you into silence?"

Aedion narrowed his eyes at the sorry excuse for a man. "Were you expecting us to make small talk after you just interrogated and butchered a demon?"

Arobynn waved a hand, as though the events of the dungeon were inconsequential. "That was business. This is not. I'd like to hear more about you all."

"I'm not sure why it matters," Aelin drawled flatly, swirling the glass of wine in her hand.

The King of Assassins adjusted the cloth napkin laying on his lap. "Is it a crime to be concerned about who my protegee is living with?"

Aelin shot him a smile, sharp, feline and fake. "You weren't concerned about that when you had me shipped off to Endovier – why would you care now?"

The table rattled as Cassian's knee banged into it. I shot him a quick glance, relaxing slightly when I saw he was staring resolutely at the plate in front of him, his knuckles white where they gripped his silverware. At least he wasn't about to do something stupid - not yet.

As difficult as it was, we had promised Aelin we would allow her to take the lead during this farce of a dinner.

Arobynn didn't even bother to look up, blinking slowly at my mate. "Is that what you think I did?"