Their Fireheart

Chapter Thirty Four

Not that she was ever his to lose. Even when she had warmed his bed, she could never have been his, not for long. Because even then - across seas, realms and worlds - Aelin was ours.

And she always would be.

I'm pulled from my thoughts at the sound of footsteps echoing through the rubble that was once the Shadow Market. As one, our new court went still - Aedion silencing Chaol when he tried to question us - the slithering of steel the only sound as we automatically drew our weapons, just as -

"I've been looking for you for an hour," Nesryn said, hurrying out of the shadows of a nearby alleyway. "Did you find it?"

Aelin relaxed at the sight of the city guard, nodding grimly. We had indeed found the stash of the destructive substance called hellfire, carefully stashing it in a sarcophagus for safekeeping before we left in order to keep it hidden. And - as Aelin had added with aggravating offhandedness - to keep us from fucking melting should things go very wrong.

I really needed to have a word with her about the importance of self-preservation one of these days.

"I'll fill you in later," Chaol told the woman imperiously, missing the way her midnight eyes sparked with irritation.

I had to fight down my smirk when I caught Aedion rolling his eyes at the haughty, clueless man.

I was quickly distracted, however, when it sunk in how pale the city guard's face was. Something Aelin had already observed.

"What is it?" She asked.

The edge to her voice had the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention, and my brothers and I immediately stalked closer to our tiny mate, protecting her back. I braced myself as the guard squared her shoulders, mentally preparing myself for bad news.

"I received intel from one of our men at the border. He has a message for us," the woman began, hand trembling slightly as she brushed back a strand of her hair. "The king has been building an army down in Morath, under Duke Perrington's supervision. The Valg guards that have been infiltrating the city are only the first of them. More are coming."

The Valg foot soldiers were coming from Morath, then, and more were soon to follow. It was nothing that we hadn't expected, but coming so soon after we'd deduced that Morath was more than likely guarding Erawan's tomb cast the news in an entirely different - and far darker - light.

Aedion and Cassian exchanged a glance, the two generals in sync as they absorbed the news. Turning back to Nesryn, Aedion cocked his head in an inherently predatory move, considering the implications. For the first time, I thought I could see why they called him the Wolf of the North.

"How many?" He asked calmly.

"Too many." Nesryn shuddered. "We haven't gotten a full count. Some are camped inside the mountains themselves - but it's greater an army than any he's assembled before."

I watched as both general's jaws clenched and the Captain paled. If this army was larger than the one he used to conquer nearly the entire continent ... I didn't want to think about what he wanted to use this force for.

I reached for the tendril of my magic that connected my shadows to me reflexively, cursing under my breath when I was blocked once again by whatever strange power blanketed this realm. The moment magic was free, I'd get a much better number for my mate than 'too many.'

"More than that," Nesryn continued, voice slightly hoarse, "the king now has an aerial cavalry of Ironteeth witches - a host three thousand strong - who have been secretly training in the Ferian Gap to ride wyverns that the king has somehow managed to create and breed."