Aelin
I knew I had things to do - vital things, terrible things - but when the day dawned, bright and clear, I couldn't bring myself to act upon them. Not when Cassian had so earnestly asked for a day to see the city, to learn more about my life here.
As despite all the vital, terrible things I needed to accomplish, I could sacrifice one day. One day to spend with my mates, to allow them a level of insight I had never allowed of anyone else.
Especially after the absolute shitshow that was my mates meeting Chaol.
I suppose I should at least be thankful they didn't inflict bodily harm, but still - they had to make him piss himself in terror?
It'd be amusing if it wasn't so irritating, but for fuck's sake, I was trying to prove that all fae weren't monsters - not the other way around.
Though I wouldn't lie and say I didn't enjoy the apology that came in the form of the four of them taking turns lavishing my body with attention for hours on end.
And even before that utterly delectable apology, I found I didn't have it in me to be truly angry with any of them.
It was as if even with me right in front of them, our time apart left them on edge, as though I could be ripped from their grasp at any moment. It made them even more protective and possessive - as impossible as that seemed. So I decided that sacrificing a day, and taking that time to reassure them of our bond, was a worthwhile endeavor - even with all the impending tasks weighing heavily on my subconscious.
It was worth it. They were worth it.
They would always be worth it.
So, after a leisurely morning, we kept to the shadows, and I spent several enjoyable hours showing my mates the city I'd spent my formative years in. As discreetly as possible, we traversed the length of Rifthold, from the elegant residential districts to the markets crammed with vendors selling goods for the upcoming summer solstice.
There was no sign or scent of the Cadre, thank the gods. But the King's Valg guards were posted at a few busy intersections, giving me the opportunity to point them out. They studied them with trained efficiency, their keen sense of smell allowing them to pick out which ones were still human and which were inhabited by the lesser demons.
From the look on their faces, I almost felt a little bad for any guard that came across a single one of them, demon or human. Almost, but not quite. Especially given that their presence alone had guilt creeping in for taking the day off of my vital, terrible plans, somewhat ruining what otherwise would have been a peaceful, rejuvenating day.
Ignoring that sliver of guilt, I continued the tour, taking them to one of Nesryn's family's bakeries, where we tasted their delicious pear tarts. At the docks, we tried some pan-fried trout - which they thoroughly enjoyed based on Cassian's snarling dismay when I snuck bites of his.
It was surreal that they were here - my mates were here with me, in Rifthold. In the city that held so much of my personal history, so much pain and grief, but still so many priceless moments that I wouldn't trade for anything. And there was so much more I wanted them to see, to learn about what my life had been like. Things I'd never wanted to share with anyone else.
Even when I'd heard the crack of a whip after lunch as we cooled ourselves by the water, I wanted them with me to witness it, to mark it. They'd silently stood, comforting me with the embrace of their large bodies as we watched the cluster of chained slaves hauling cargo onto one of the ships. Watched - and could do nothing.
For now.
I swore to myself that it wouldn't be for long. Putting an end to that was a high priority.
From Cassian's shaking rage, Azriel's almost too-tight grip on my arm, and the way Rowan and Rhysand carefully marked the face of each overseer, I had no doubt that my mates were entirely on board with my thoughts.
Shaking free of the horrid reminder of not only my past, but the current reality for far too many conquered people, we meandered back through the market stalls, one after the other, in an attempt to distract us from what I was sure were dark thoughts for all of us.
My thoughts of swiftly approaching vengeance was enough to calm me, allowing me to bask in the bustling normality of the market. The smell of flowers, spices and freshly baked bread wafted by, the river breeze sweeping the tantalizing myriad of scents by.
Rhysand purchased a peony from one of the flower girls, and I had to fight not to look like a besotted schoolgirl when he tucked it behind my ear with a wink and a smile. I was an infamous assassin and queen for fuck's sake, and yet these males had me melting at the simplest of gestures.
It was ridiculous, honestly.
But it was so sweet, and ordinary, the briefest taste of the life we might have had - one that was light and carefree and unburdened - had I been born for any other purpose than to reforge the realms so callously cleaved by the ambitions of the Valg.
But I wouldn't think of that now. Wouldn't ruin today with thoughts of my tenuous future.
"Come, I have one last thing I want to show you," I said, casting a last glance around the crowded marketplace.
I led them through the shadowed alleyways of the city until we reached the darkened gilded dome that used to hold so much light and music. My mates didn't speak as I guided them onto the roof, breaking in through a nearly-invisible door seamlessly woven into the dome itself.
Now, sitting on the wooden rafters within the Royal Theater, I relaxed into Rowan at my side and swung my legs in the open air below.
The space was the same, the stage, the seats, even the massive, blood-red curtains that used to shield the performers from the audience. But it felt cold, empty. As if even the building itself were grieving for the countless lives lost - whose last words had not been words, but a haunting melody of horror and strife.
I had to leash that familiar, writhing anger as I soaked in the gloom of the dead theater, still arranged as it probably had been the night the musicians had walked off the stage to protest the massacres in Endovier and Calaculla - never to be seen again.
Releasing a slow, measured breath, I forced myself to concentrate on the still shining memories of what this place had been, to me, to this city. To everyone who had so desperately needed a spark of joy and light in these bleak times.
"This used to be my favorite place in the city," I murmured, my words too loud in the emptiness. "Arobynn owns a private box, and I went every chance I could. On nights I didn't feel like dressing up or being seen, or a job took up my evening hours, I'd creep in here through that door and listen."
I caught Rhysand frowning at my revelation, but Rowan said softly, "I've never seen a theater like this, crafted around sound and luxury. Even in Doranelle, the theaters and amphitheaters are ancient, with benches or just steps."
I nod. "There's no place like this anywhere, at least in Erilea. Not even in Terrasen."
"I should have taken you to see more of Velaris," Rhysand grumbled, his voice softening, growing reverent as he says, "The Rainbow of Velaris is an artist's haven, with hundreds of galleries, sculpture gardens and more. The performing artists dwell on a hill across the Sidra, with five main theaters in the city, plus the amphitheater on the sea cliffs...you would have loved it."
"We'll take you one day," Azriel adds firmly. "To our notable theaters, and the smaller ones, and any other across the realms that you want to visit."
"And we'll help you build the first theater in Terrasan," Cassian grins, "you can model it after whichever is your favorite, and make it ten times grander."
My heart clenched painfully, the reality of that future still a far-fetched dream in my mind. But I still play along, at least for now.
"With what money?" I scoff lightly. "You think my people will be happy to starve while I build a theater for my own pleasure?"
"Artists are essential," Rhysand said, shaking his head decisively and unknowingly echoing the words of Madame Florine. He shot me a sly smirk, "Not to mention, you won't have to worry about money, my goddess. We could rebuild your country ten times over and not make a dent in the Night Court's coffers."
Rowan snorted, adding on a bit derisively, "Plus, I'm assuming whatever act of terror you committed on Maeve also ensured I would have full access to my holdings. Money is one of the only things that won't be an issue."
It did. Of course it did. But that was his money, Rhysand's money, and I would never assume to use it for my own means, personal or otherwise.
As though he could sense my impending protestation, Azriel chastised me, "What's ours is yours, Princess, that's how this works."
I pursed my lips, ignoring Cassian's huff of laughter at my stubbornness. Even so, my eyes stung at their off-handed assurance that my burdens were no longer mine alone, but theirs as well. That they would always support whatever I wanted to accomplish - as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Not that I planned on being penniless for much longer, both for the sake of my country and for this upcoming conflict - but they didn't need to know that yet.
Casting my gaze back to the stage, I sighed. "This place has been shut down for months, and I swear I can still hear the music floating in the air."
Rhysand hummed thoughtfully. "It wouldn't surprise me. I've always been of the school of thought that music is a form of magic on its own."
"Locked away from magic for ten years, the music in this theater was the closest thing that I could ever find," I agreed. "I wish you could have heard it - I wish you could have been here when Pytor conducted the orchestra in the Stygian Suite. Sometimes, I feel like I'm still sitting down in that box, thirteen years old and weeping from the sheer glory of it."
"You cried?" Cassian asked, eyes widening slightly at the thought.
"The final movement - every damn time. And the music would play in my mind for days, even back in the Keep as I trained or killed or slept. It was like a madness infecting me, every time. It was why I started playing the pianoforte - so I could try to purge that madness through my own poor attempts at replicating it."
I'd never told anyone that - never taken anyone here, either. But this place, this music, it was a part of my soul - as much as my mates were.
After a beat of silence, Rowan said, "Is there a pianoforte in here?"
Despite my protestations, a short time later Cassian and Azriel were eagerly rolling back the curtains on the stage, while Rowan and Rhysand were pulling the cover off the pianoforte near the front right of the stage.
"This is a horrible idea for about a dozen reasons," I said as I approached, "I haven't played in months, I'm so rusty I might very well damage your precious fae hearing - not to mention the fact someone could come by at any moment."
Still, I couldn't help but to run a hand over the smooth surface of the magnificent instrument as if it were a prize horse.
"Feeling self conscious today, are we? That's unusual, little warrior," Cassian smirked at me, eyes dancing.
"It can't be any worse than Mor's attempts at signing," Azriel scoffed, met with snorts of agreement from my Illyrian mates.
"You are the one who wanted to come here, my goddess," Rhysand said, his violet eyes twinkling. "Are you sure you can resist the opportunity to play that movement, on this stage?"
Well damn, he had a point. It was a fantasy - a desperate illusion that I wanted more than I cared to admit.
"Fine, fine." I grumbled, not nearly as put out as I pretended to be. Pointing to a spot on the stage, I instructed, "Stand over there you insufferable bastards, and don't say I didn't warn you."
I swallowed heavily as I slid onto the smooth bench and raised the lid, the white and black keys beneath gleaming under the candlelight. I positioned my feet on the pedals, but found I could make no move to lift my hands to the keyboard.
Sitting here, at this grand instrument, on this sacred stage - it felt sacrilegious. I may no longer honor the gods, but the divinity of music was separate entirely. Not to mention...
"I haven't played since before Nehemia died," I admitted softly, the words catching in my throat.
Suddenly, the silence of the theater was thick and cloying, oppressive in its intensity. I was drowning beneath its waves, the loss of my friend hitting me anew. The ivory keys blurred as tears filled my eyes, memories surging fierce and violent.
A steady hand fell upon my shoulder, and I forced myself to look up and meet gentle hazel eyes.
"I will never have the opportunity to know Nehemia as you did," Azriel said, "but from everything you've told me of her, I am confident that she would have wanted you to live. Live, and experience joy and art and to cherish every moment to the fullest extent you can. I think she would be very sad if you never played again."
He was right. Fuck but he was right.
Releasing a shaky breath, I nodded, holding his gaze until he found what he was searching for in mine and smiled softly, standing to return to my other mates.
With new determination, I faced the keys and slowly set my hands upon the ivory. They were smooth and cool, their unassuming appearance belying a great beast of sound and bliss and anguish and feeling.
It had been so long since I had felt their song in my blood, but it was as if the notes had been etched into my very bones. With one touch of my flesh to the keys, the music erupted from where they'd been buried in my mind, muscle memory had me reaching for those familiar chords, and -
I began.
It was not one of the sorrowful, but lovely pieces favored by the ladies of Rifthold's society, or the light, dancing melodies performed in dancing halls, or even the clever, complex pieces I had challenged myself with when returning from Endovier.
No, it was none of those things.
The final movement was a celebration, an exaltation. It was life itself; the simple joys, the fear and strife, the glory and misery of triumph and failure - all of the pain and beauty encompassed in breathing, in existing.
It was a consecration of the splendor and horror of living.
And it was a reminder, a declaration - of what we were, of what we could be.
And perhaps that's why I'd gone to hear it performed every year, after so much killing and torture, sorrow and pain and punishment; as a reminder of what I was, of what I struggled to stay alive for.
Up and up it built, the sound breaking from the pianoforte like heavenly trumpets, the cadence building and dancing, waltzing through the air until my mates had drifted over to stand at my side, until I whispered, "Now," and the crescendo shattered into the world, note after note after note.
They crashed around us, breaking and rebounding until the empty theater didn't seem quite so empty anymore; breathing life, breathing music into the hallowed halls. And everything was overflowing with sound, with music, with magic.
I brought the piece home to its final, explosive, triumphant chord.
The sound itself a laud, a vow, an ode to the power of this music, this place, the musicians who had once graced this very stage. Reverberating through the empty room, through my very soul -
Unbidden, a tear slips down my cheek.
I'm still panting slightly as the last echoes of the note dissipated, and I looked up to see my mates nearly as undone as I am. Rowan's eyes are lined with silver, and Rhysand's throat is bobbing.
But it was Cassian who breathed out reverently, "Show us - show us how you did that."
So I did.
I spent a better part of an hour taking turns seated next to them on the bench, showing them the basics of the pianoforte - learning its similarities and differences to the mirror instrument in Prythian - explaining the pedals, notes and chords. When someone finally came to investigate the music, we slipped out.
I stopped at the Royal Bank on our way back, making my mates wait across the street as I sat in the Master's office for the nth time since returning to the city, while a bevy of underlings rushed in and out on my business. I was clutching another bag of gold when I emerged into the bright light of the afternoon, pleased to find my mates exactly where I'd left them, despite their initial grumblings of not being able to accompany me.
Rowan frowned as he saw it, muttering under his breath about needing to find a way to access his own funds.
Rhys's brow furrowed as well. "So you've been using your own money to support us all?"
Lord save me from fae males and their self-important need to provide.
We slipped down a side street, but not before the group of hooded, powerfully built males were spotted by a handful of well-dressed noble ladies, who gaped at the sight - and then turned away abruptly when they caught my flash of bared teeth.
Cassian smirked at my action, but I ignored him as I said, "For now."
Rowan's brows were furrowed, likely trying to do the math on how much I could have saved from my time as an assassin, and how I even had access to any of it after I was caught and thrown into Endovier.
My suspicions were confirmed when he asked, "How long will that last?"
I shrugged, humming noncommittally.
His emerald eyes narrowed at me. "And did you have a plan for what you would do for money later?"
I shot him a sidelong glance, "It'll be taken care of."
Now even Cassian was frowning. "By whom?" My general-mate challenged.
"Me."
Rhysand huffed his frustration. "Explain."
I fought to contain my smirk, instead letting a small smile stretch across my lips that I knew would irritate them to no end. I knew it frustrated them not to know I was planning, but if they thought I'd be content to be pampered and entirely provided for by my mates, no matter how capable I knew they were of doing so - they had another thing coming.
Plus, it was much more fun this way.
I hummed, shooting them a sly wink. "Don't worry about it, you'll find out soon enough."
Layered snarls and growls echoed around the small alley, and I laughed as I darted forward, avoiding the large hands that attempted to grab my shoulders.
Dancing towards the warehouse apartment, I called over my shoulder, "Remember boys, good things come to those who wait!"
The rest of the evening was spent in enjoyable companionship, and despite their continued badgering, I didn't breathe a word of my plans to any of them.
Day soon passed into night, and I waited until everyone was asleep - still dog-piled onto my large bed - before using the light of the full moon to climb out of bed, careful not to jostle any of my slumbering mates.
Slipping into the closet, I dressed swiftly, strapping on the weapons I'd casually dumped there upon our return this afternoon. None of my males had commented when I'd plucked my Illyrian blades from the living room, claiming I wanted to clean them.
I strapped the blades onto my back, the two hilts peeking over either shoulder as I stood in front of the closet mirror and hastily braided back my hair. The short braid still felt odd after years of long, waist-length hair, but I couldn't deny the process was a bit less of a nuisance, even if a few of the front bits slipped out.
Creeping out of the closet, I kept a careful eye on my mates, barely holding myself back from admiring their torsos that gleamed in the light of the full moon. They didn't stir as I snuck from the bedroom and out of the apartment, no more than a shadow across the smooth wooden floors.
I breathed a sigh of relief the moment I was hit with the crisp night air, ready to get the night's deed done with. It wouldn't be long until Arobynn finally called in his favor, and this had to be done before then. I needed to take care of this myself, though I knew the rest of the overbearing males in my life would be none too pleased when they discovered what I'd done.
Oh well, it'd be too late at that point.
Climbing up atop a nearby building, my mind turned sharp and focused as my other priorities surged ahead of the thoughts of my sleeping mates. After all, though I knew they were more than willing, I refused to allow them to fight my battles for me - let alone fund them.
I was nothing more than a streaking shadow across the city's skyline, sure-footed and quick as I raced across the rooftops, arriving at my destination in record time. Creeping across the domed roof, I was as silent as the abandoned streets below me.
With a flick of my wrist, I freed a short blade from my black suit, carefully prying open a small vent that was half-hidden within the shadows. Setting it down securely, I released a meditative exhale, clearing my mind of anything and everything other than what I needed to do to accomplish my task.
Time slowed, and yet the next minutes passed in the blink of an eye as I slid into the small opening, entering the attic of the building and stalked through the multitude of floors with a stealth I honed and perfected during those years when Aelin had ceased to exist.
The keys to what I needed were easy to procure, hidden behind oak paneling in a large, ostentatious office.
The next part was even easier, as I was one of the very few aware of not only its location, but title. Not that anyone else knew this, but that made this particular deception all the sweeter.
The click of the key turning in the lock was the only noise in the inky darkness that blanketed the large space, full of towering walls that I knew were made of gleaming bronze, though you couldn't tell in the dark of night. The rustling of paper was whisper-soft, and I didn't spare a moment to bask in my glory - quickly shutting the door with a low ping.
With brutal, practiced efficiency, I snuck out of the room, returning the ring of keys to their previous location, not daring to take a full breath until I had clambered back atop the roof, vent discreetly placed back into position, and I was safely ensconced behind a chimney on a neighboring building. My mission accomplished with no one the wiser.
Even then, it wasn't until I was several blocks away that I pulled the sheaf of papers from the breast of my suit, scowling as I read the words written under the light of the full moon.
That fucking bastard.
I'd expected this, but still - the audacity of that man. He deserved everything that was coming to him, and more.
I ached to use my inherited flames to destroy the insulting document in front of me, but a match would have to do for now. But not here. There was someone else who deserved to witness this, even if it was the only thing I could give them.
So, tucking the papers back into my suit, I took off into the night once more.
It wasn't long before I was striding through a small, pretty graveyard overlooking the Avery. A location that Lysandra had so benevolently provided to me.
The graveyard was empty, but the headstones and grass were well kept, and the towering oaks were budding with new leaves, sighing and ruffling with the breeze coming off the river. My throat closed up with gratitude for Wesley, who had insisted on this final resting place.
I picked up pebbles along the way, selecting only those that were smooth and well-formed, glistening with bits of quartz or color. By the time I reached the last line of graves, I'd collected a solid handful and was gripping them tightly as I halted in front of one in particular.
It was a lovely grave - simple and clean, unpretentious, unassuming - just like him. On the stone were the words that Arobynn hadn't bothered to inscribe, but that Wesley had demanded of the stone carver:
Sam Cortland
Beloved
And he was beloved. Not just by me, but by many. He was too good for this world, for his circumstances, for his ultimate end.
Sam. My Sam.
For a moment, all I could do was stare. The gravestone superimposed by that beautiful face grinning at me, glaring at me, loving me. Blinking the vision away, I opened my fist and picked out three of the loveliest, carefully placing them at the apex of the headstone's curve.
Then I dropped to my knees, sinking into the soft grass and resting my head onto the smooth, cool rock.
"Hello, Sam" I breathed onto the white stone, "I have so much to tell you."