Their Fireheart

Chapter Forty

The others arrived at the apartment bright and early, Aedion noticeably not emerging from his room until Gavriel, Fenrys and Nesryn had departed to meet up with the rest of the rebels - getting in position prior to the main event. Gavriel comported himself surprisingly well - thankfully - though the way his nostrils flared and eyes were glued to the innocuous wooden door of the demi-fae's bedroom told a different story.

Even Lorcan was smart enough to keep his mouth shut regarding that rather tactical maneuver. Though it didn't stop him from gaping at the male who was a mirror image of the one he'd fought beside for centuries when Aedion finally appeared.

We took off not long after that, Aelin and Chaol helping us carry the urns of hellfire into the sewers, while Lysandra stayed behind with Evangeline. The courtesan had raged at that order, insisting on helping again and again, but Aelin remained firm. She refused to put her childhood nemesis in danger, especially stuck in her human skin as she was.

Anger still brimmed in Lysandra's eyes as she waved us off, sharply warning us all to stay safe.

We were silent as we stalked down the sun-drenched street to the sewer entrance, barely breathing beneath the heavy cowls of our cloaks. At least it was a clear day, at least that bit had gone right.

The sword at my side was a dead weight, heavier at how the copious steel Aelin bore glinted in the morning light. Too soon we'd put these weapons to use. Too soon my mate would be entering that shimmering glass castle to face the man who had murdered her family and enslaved her people. Too soon she would be out of my reach.

My traitorous mind tormented me with dark thoughts. That maybe this was it - the last time I saw my precious mate alive. That she wouldn't make it out of the castle at all. Or - even worse - perhaps she would walk out wearing a black collar of her own, a twin to the one adorning the neck of the prince she claimed as her friend.

I ignored them as best I could, but I had no doubt they'd be haunting my every step through these damp, dark sewers.

The same sewers we now stood in, the cool, reeking air surrounding us, the stillness only broken by our soft huffs of air. The vats sat next to us on the stone walkway of the dim tunnel, not a torch to be seen. We wouldn't dare a flame so close to those lethal urns. We wouldn't need it anyway, not with our fae eyesight, and we didn't want to risk anything that would give us away before we were ready.

Time seemed to slow, as we stood on the precipice of what would be a momentous day - one way or another.

Turning to Chaol, I swallowed my dislike for the man and offered him my hand. I may not think much of the self-righteous, arrogant fool, but he was the only one my mate would have at her back today - and I had to accept that. Unfortunately.

I didn't know what gods the captain believed in, but he'd better pray that he actually possessed whatever the hell Aelin saw in him.

Because if he walked out there without my mate, I'd show him what it truly meant to face a monster.

After I released him, Rhysand echoed my sentiments, wishing the man luck. His heavy swallow in response was the only sign that he wasn't quite as dull as he looked, and that he understood the words for what they were - a threat.

I dragged my attention away from the captain when Aelin approached Aedion. Two sets of Ashryver eyes locked, and she reached up to touch the face that was the other side of her fair coin.

"For Terrasen," she said softly.

"For our family."

"For us."

Slowly, Aedion drew his blade and knelt, his head bowed as he lifted the Sword of Orynth. I froze, the very air around us seeming to still at the gravity of this moment.