Aelin
Victory was a siren song in my blood as Dorian and I ripped the last threads of power from his father, now beaten and broken at our feet.
The world tilted when I finally dropped Dorian's hand, my head spinning as reality rushed back in. The shadows of the railings seemed to reach for me as I oriented myself. Next to me, the prince stumbled, reeling as I was from being ripped away from that otherworldly, all-encompassing cocoon of our combined power.
Reaching out, I steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, waiting until he'd come back to himself before returning my gaze to the sniveling worm that had turned this realm into a living nightmare. All but collapsed on the glass floor in front of us, it seemed almost incomprehensible that this man had been the harbinger of death and suffering for thousands and thousands of innocents.
He shivered beneath the weight of our gaze, his black orbs no longer soulless, but empty. When he fixed his attention on Dorian, I was struck by how human his eyes appeared - watery and already milky with age.
In a voice I had never heard before, the king whispered, "My boy."
Dorian didn't react.
The king gazed up at his son, his eyes wide - bright - and said again, "My boy."
Once again, his son made no indication that he'd heard him. Not even a twitch.
The king then looked to where I stood beside his son. "Have you come to save us all, Aelin Galathynius?"
I stared down at the butcher of my family, my people, my continent, studying his hand - where the dark ring had been shattered away. Horror-coated realization swept through me, the taste of it like ash on my tongue.
I swallowed. "Who are you?"
This wasn't the king I knew, couldn't be. Because the man in front of me was ...
Human - more and more, the king looked ... human. Softer.
The king turned to Dorian, exposing his broad palms. "I know you must hate me. But - everything I did - it was all for you. All to keep you safe. From him."
His voice shook, and I went still at his words.
He couldn't mean ...
"Early in my reign, I found the key," the king went on, the words tumbling out as though he couldn't stop them. "I found the key and brought it to Morath. And he ... Perrington. I was young and stupid, and he took me under the keep to show me the forbidden crypt. We'd heard the rumors, believing them to be nothing but tall tales, and I didn't think, couldn't even fathom - but I had the key, and we opened it."
Tears, real and genuine, flowed down his ruddy face. I could only blink, the harrowing truth of what he was saying sweeping over me like a tsunami, wrecking everything in its path.
"I opened it, and he came; he took Perrington's body - and ..." the king stared at his bare hand, at the pale swath of skin no longer covered by black stone. Watched as it shook. "He let his minion take me."
There was no question in my mind who he was.
"That's enough," Dorian said, voice as cold and unmoving as a glacier.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Erawan -
"Erawan is free," I breathed.
I had suspected as much, but this -
This was something else entirely. He'd been free for years, for decades.
And not only free. Hidden in plain sight. Erawan was Duke Perrington.
Perrington.
The very same man who had manhandled me in Endovier, who had lived in this very castle for decades. The man who had overseen the trials to become the King's Champion - and had never known, whether by some stroke of luck or fate or my ancestor's own protection, that I was here. I had never known, either - never detected it on him.
The king nodded, his eyes now fixed on the slim chain peeking out of the neck of my tunic. "That amulet around your neck - whatever it is - I may not know exactly what kind of power it possesses, but I know it's enough to seal him back in the crypt."
The look on his face when I'd revealed it ... He'd been seeing a tool not of destruction, but of salvation. And his words in the throne room ... They were a warning, not a threat.
"How has he been inside Perrington all this time and no one noticed?" I asked.
Surely there had to have been some sort of sign. Even before I'd known about the valg, there had to have been something, anything, that I should have sensed.
"He can hide inside a body like a snail in its shell. But cloaking his presence also stifles his own abilities to scent others - like you. And now you're back - all the players in the unfinished game that's lasted for centuries. The Galathynius line - and the Havilliard, which he has hated so fiercely all this time. Why he targeted my family, and yours," the king croaked out.
Dorian's line - because of Elena and Gavin, and the victory they wrenched from him. My line - because of their role in the valg's failure in the very beginning, back when Eirlea and Prythian were one. Or - if Erawan could hear the whispers of the gods - because of me. Because of the role I was destined to fulfill.
Was that it? Was it my fault that my kingdom, my family ...
The railings shadows stretched closer, reaching for my leg in a comforting caress.
"You butchered my kingdom for him," I managed to rasp. That night my parents died, there had been that smell in the room ... That rancid, foul scent that I now knew could only be the valg. "You slaughtered millions."
The king flinched, as though my accusation inflicted physical pain.
The king braced a hand on the bridge, as if to keep from collapsing under the weight of the shame now coating his words. "I tried to stop it. They could find those like you based on your magic alone, and wanted the strongest of you for themselves. And when my own son was born with the most powerful magic that had manifested in the Havilliard line in centuries ..." His craggy features crumbled as he again addressed Dorian, eyes shining with emotion. "You were so strong - so precious. I couldn't let them take you. I couldn't. I wrested control away for just long enough."
"To do what," Dorian asked hoarsely.
My heart broke for man and son, despite his multitude of crimes. I glanced at the smoke wafting toward the river far beyond, billowing from the wreckage that was once a monstrous clocktower.
"To order the towers built," I said softly, "and use that spell to banish magic."
Magic that had now been freed ... once again allowing the valg to sniff out every magic wielder in Erilea. Not that they hadn't devised other methods of discovering them when that ability had been stifled. I could only hope that having access to their powers gave the magical among us a fighting chance against the demons.
The king gasped a shuddering breath, nodding jerkily. "But he didn't know how I'd done it. He thought the magic vanished as punishment from our gods and knew nothing of why the towers were built. All this time I used my strength to keep the knowledge of it away from him - from them. It took all of it - so I could not fight the demon, stop it when ... when it did those things. All I could do was keep that knowledge safe. To try and protect the magic, and my son."
"You're a liar," Dorian spat, turning on his heel - refusing to look at his father. "I still wound up able to use my magic - it didn't protect me at all. You can't fool me with pretty words anymore, so there's no use in trying to save your skin."
"I didn't know," the king pleaded. "Using my blood in the spell must have made my line immune. It was a mistake. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. My boy - Dorian -"
Dorian whirled around, silencing the king with a venomous glare. A beam of light shone down on the prince, the pale skin encircling his neck a beacon against his otherwise tan complexion - icy rage surging through my veins at the sight.
"You don't get to call him that," I snapped. "You enslaved him. You tortured him. You ruined countless innocent lives. You came to my home and destroyed it. You murdered my family."
"I came to find you. I came to have you burn it out of me!" the king sobbed. "Aelin of the Wildfire, that's what they called you, even then. I tried to get you to do it. But your mother knocked you unconscious before you could kill me, and the demon... You reminded the demon of some long forgotten foe, and it became devoted to wiping out your line after that, so no fire could ever cleanse him from me."
I froze, the glass bridge rocking beneath my feet. No - no, it couldn't be true, couldn't be right. My reality warped, the once inconspicuous shadows growing and morphing, curling and twining around my legs, my feet, skating up my arms and torso - as if they could shield me from this awful revelation.
"All of it was to find you," the king said, unaware of the storm raging inside me. "So you could save me - so you could end me at last. Please. Do it."
The king was weeping, and his body seemed to waste away bit by bit, his cheeks hollowing out, his hands thinning.
As if his life force and the demon prince inside him had indeed been bonded - and one could not exist without the other.
"Chaol is alive," the king murmured through his emaciated hands, lowering them to reveal red-rimmed eyes. "Broken, but I didn't make the kill. There was - a light around him. I left him alive."
A sob ripped from my throat. Chaol was alive. I had hoped, had tried to give him a shot at survival -
"You're a liar," Dorian said again, his voice cold. So cold. "And you deserve this."
Lighted sparked at his fingertips. I mouthed his name, trying to reel in my racing thoughts, gather my scattered wits. The demon inside the king had hunted me and my family not because of the threat Terrasen posed - but for the fire in my veins. The fire of the line that had led them into cleaving the realm into two. The fire that could end us both.
It really was all my fault.
I lifted a hand as Dorian stepped toward his father. There was so much more we could learn, could uncover. We had to ask -
The king cried in earnest, "I'm so sorry. You have to believe me son -"
The crown prince tipped his head back to the sky and cut him off with a roar, a mixture of grief and sorrow and fury - the battle cry of a vengeful god.
And then the glass castle shattered.
The bridge exploded beneath my feet, and the world turned into shards of flying glass.
I plummeted into open air, towers crashing down around me.
I flung out my magic to wrap around me, burning through the glass as I fell and fell and fell.
People were screaming - screaming as Dorian brought the castle down for Chaol, for Sorscha, for himself, and sent a tidal wave of glass rushing toward the city lying below.
Down and down I went, burrowing into my magic as I fell, the ground surging up, the buildings around me rupturing, the light so bright the fragments gleamed like shooting stars.
I pulled my newly awakened magic to the surface as the castle collapsed, the lethal wave of glass cascading toward Rifthold.
Wildfire raced for the gates, raced against the wind, against death. And as the wave of glass crested the iron gates, shredding through the corpses tied there as if they were paper, a wall of fire erupted before it, shooting sky-high, spreading wide. Halting it.
A wind shoved against me, brutal and unforgiving, my bones groaning as it pushed me up, not down. Rowan. But I couldn't spare a second to look for him, not when the entirety of my focus was on holding the barrier of flame now shielding Rifthold. A few more seconds, and then I could rest. Or die.
The wind tore at me, and it sounded like it was roaring my name. A second later, and it was bolstered by a night-kissed breeze, growing more powerful and somehow gentler. Rhysand.
Wave after wave of glass and debris slammed into my wildfire, testing my reserves.
But I kept the wall of flame burning - for the Royal Theater. And the flower girls at the market. For the slaves and the courtesans and the Faliq family. For the city that had offered me joy and pain, death and rebirth. For the city that had given me music, I kept the wall of fire burning bright.
There was blood raining down among the glass - blood that sizzled when it hit my little cocoon of flame, reeking of darkness and pain.
The wind kept blowing until it swept that dark blood away.
Still I held the shield around the city, held on my unspoken promise to Chaol and Dorian. To take out their tyrant king, to protect their innocent citizens. To make sure Dorian had a kingdom to come back to.
I held on until the ground rose up to meet me, my fire still burning even as I braced for impact -
When I was swept up into a strong pair of arms, rising higher and higher to the staccato beat of leathery wings flapping in the wind. I didn't have to crane my neck to guess who it was, intimately familiar with the hard, muscled panes of the chest I was now cradled against.
And then, with a final pulse of power, everything stopped.
No more shards of glass rained from the sky, no black blood splattered across the grass at my feet. Slowly, I lowered my fiery shield, unable to help the sharp gasp at the sight that greeted me.
Gently, Cassian lowered us onto the ground, the small hill beneath our feet untouched and vibrant. My skull throbbed as I shoved my unbound hair away from my eyes to get a better look at what I had done.
What Dorian had done.
A kingdom forever changed.
The glass castle was gone.
Only the stone castle remained, its gray stones warming under the midday sun.
And where a cascade of glass and debris should have destroyed the city, a massive, opaque wall glittered.
A wall of glass, its upper lip curved as if it indeed had been a cresting wave.
The only thing that kept Rifthold from being obliterated by the blast, from collapsing its buildings, from the glass that would have reduced its citizens to bloody ribbons, shredding their flesh from their bones -
I whirled around to face a disheveled Cassian. He stared down at me, something like awe glittering in those gold-flecked eyes of his, a smirk teasing the edge of his lips. Unharmed. He was unharmed - save a few minor cuts and bruises - and absolutely filthy.
He was covered with evidence of his own battle, his skin and leathers coated with the muck of the sewers, the dust and grime of the battle, the black blood of our enemies. Every single inch of him - except for the massive set of wings that framed his already towering frame, like some kind of god of old.
Wings that had been nothing more than shredded tatters the last time I had seen them. Now they stood proud, whole and healed and perfect.
My hand shot forward, smacking my idiotic mate upside the head. "What is wrong with you?"
I couldn't tear my eyes from those mesmerizing wings, watching intently for any hint of pain or injury as he stepped back sharply.
Cassian scowled, rubbing at the spot I'd hit. "Excuse me?"
Now it was my turn to scowl.
"No, I don't think I will," I scoffed. "Why on earth would you try to fly through that, are you mentally deficient?"
He blinked at me, as though I was the ridiculous one in this scenario. My scowl deepened.
"Let me get this straight," he said slowly. "You were falling from the highest spire of that glass monstrosity as it imploded beneath you, plummeting to the ground with no way to stop your descent, and you're upset that I flew through the debris to catch you?"
I growled under my breath, glaring at him.
"Of course I'm upset, you great, blundering oaf. There was glass flying everywhere," I snarled. "Do you know what kind of damage that could have done to your wings? Wings that you just got back, I might add. And it's not like we have healers equipped to fix them here, you stupid, reckless ass -"
Cassian lunged forward, silencing me with an earth shattering kiss. The rest of the world disappeared, insignificant compared to the feeling of my mate's lips on mine. I was lost in a sea of passion, drowning in the bliss of his fervent devotion, and I never wanted to come up for air.
Unfortunately, we had to, though we were both panting when we finally pulled back. Pressing his forehead to mine, he ensnared me within his gaze, eyes boring into mine.
"I'm fine, my wings aren't even scratched. We're all fine." He said with heart-breaking gentleness. "But even if they weren't - my wings are nothing more to me than a way to get to you, little mate. A way to protect you. If they were damaged or ruined as a result of aiding you, I wouldn't feel an ounce of regret or sorrow. You are the only thing I could never stand to lose. You and the family we created are all I care about, and I will never apologize for using every weapon in my arsenal to protect that."
His clear, steady gaze left me no choice but to accept his every word for what they were - the unfettered truth. I sniffed, blinking back the traitorous tears that pricked the back of my eyes.
"Well," I said, voice thick with gratitude and reverence for the male in front of me. "I suppose I could learn to live with that."
Cassian chuckled, leaning down to press another quick kiss to my lips before pulling back and giving me the same once-over I had him. His brow furrowed when he saw the slashes in my suit from my earlier struggle with Dorian - despite the fact my skin had already knit back together thanks to the rush of newly-freed magic.
"You're okay?" He murmured.
Grabbing one of his hands in mine, I squeezed it firmly.
"I'm fine. The king is dead, and Dorian -" I gasped, "Dorian!"
I spun around, searching wildly, heart seizing in my chest when I saw him, not three feet away. Sprawled on the grass, his eyes closed, but his chest rising and falling.
Beside him, by some miracle, lay Chaol. His face was bloody, but he still breathed. There were no other wounds that I could detect at first glance.
The king hadn't been lying. Chaol still lived. The tendrils of the cauldron's power I'd encased him in had done their job. The king hadn't killed him. Whatever other damage he'd inflicted was secondary to that. We could find a way to fix it.
I began shaking, as incomprehensible as it was that we'd all made it out alive. Alive, and free.
Then the scents of my other mates, of pine and snow, of mist and cedar, of rain, salt and citrus, hit me with the force of a battering ram, and I realized how my two human friends had survived the fall.
I turned back to where they now stood next to Cassian, mouthing a silent thank you. I allowed myself a moment to drink in the sight of them like they were the blessed oasis in the middle of the red desert during one of my first training runs.
We could unpack everything that had happened later. For now, I was just thankful they were here with me, safe and sound.
All of them were as filthy as Cassian, even Rhysand, which I honestly didn't know was possible. Before today, I would have sworn the male physically repelled dirt - simply because it didn't fit his image as High Lord. His violet eyes sparkled beneath the midday sun and for the first time in too long, I felt the adoring caress of his power against my mind as he spoke to me through our bond. I was a warrior first, you know. It's not as though I'm afraid of a little dirt, my goddess.
I know, but it's still hard to imagine. You're just so - pretty now. I pursed my lips to keep from laughing at his answering scowl.
Not even his mock offense could distract me from the way our bond was practically purring at being able to connect mind to mind again, the outpouring of love, gratitude and relief flowing from him nearly overwhelming.
Azriel was much the same, save the unfaltering air of smugness that had me narrowing my eyes at him. The corner of his lips quirked up just as I felt it - the velvety brush of darkness as one of the shadows I'd noticed earlier skated up my spine and settled at the nape of my neck - burrowing into my mess of hair like it was claiming its territory.
When Azriel remained uncowed beneath my unimpressed stare, I rolled my eyes with a huff - pretending I wasn't secretly crowing at the thought of having a small bit of him with me, always.
Rowan watched all of this with thinly veiled amusement, his emerald eyes glowing beneath the solstice sun, brighter than any gemstone. Ever steadfast and unwavering, my warrior-prince. Waiting for whatever came next, that unspoken vow a living, breathing tether between us - always.
To whatever end, Fireheart.
All I wanted was to collapse within their embrace, to hide away from the rest of the world and lose myself in them, in their love. But I couldn't, not just yet. I huffed out a breath, ready to be done with all of this.
"One last thing. One last thing, and then we can rest," I promised, as much to myself as to my mates.
And so I looked over my shoulder at the sloping hill that led to the city. The carefully plotted land had been all but demolished, its trees and lampposts and greenery shredded by the glass. Nothing had survived.
I didn't want to think about what had happened to the people who had been on the grounds - or in the castle.
I forced myself to walk instead.
Toward the wall. Toward the panicked city beyond. Toward the new world that beckoned.
A fifth scent merged with that of my mates', then a sixth. A strange, wild scent that belonged to everything and nothing.
And beyond that, in the distance, three more scents converged, watching. A part of what happened today, but separate - from my court, my family.
Nevertheless, I did not look at my mates, or Aedion, or Lysandra as I descended the hill to the city.
Every step was purposeful, every breath a reminder to pull myself back from what came next, to hold on to the here and now, and do what had to be done. For Chaol, for Dorian. For his new kingdom.
I approached the towering glass wall that now separated the castle from the city, that thin barrier that had stood between extinction and survival, that had stopped death in its tracks.
And I punched a battering ram of blue flame through it.
More yelling arose as the flame ate away at the glass, forming an archway. The people beyond, crying and holding one another or gripping their heads or covering their mouths, went quiet as I strode through the door I'd just made.
The gallows still stood just beyond the wall. It was the only raised surface I could see. Disgusting. But better than nothing.
I ascended the butchering block, my court falling into rank behind me. Shoulders back, face grave and unyielding, I stopped at the edge of the platform.
"Your king is dead," I said, my voice ringing through the streets as the crowd stirred, uneasy. "Your prince lives."
"All hail Dorian Havilliard," someone shouted down the street.
No one else echoed it. Grinding my teeth, I refrained from snarling at the terrified, oppressed public.
Taking a deep breath, I announced, "My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. The Queen of Terrasen."
The crowd murmured, some of those standing closest stepping away from the platform.
I refused to pay them any mind. "Your prince is in mourning. Until he is ready, this city is mine."
Absolute silence met my proclamation. Wide, unblinking eyes looked up at me from the square. But what they didn't know was that though I was a foreign queen, I still knew this city like the back of my hand.
And I knew I had to lay down the law.
"If you loot, if you riot, if you cause one lick of trouble," I said, looking a few in the eye, "I will find you, and I will burn you to ash." I lifted a hand, flames dancing at my fingertips. "If you try to revolt against your new king, if you try to take his castle, then this wall" - I gestured behind me with my burning hand - "will turn to molten glass and flood your streets, your homes, your throats."
I lifted my chin, refusing to back down from my harsh words. My mouth cut a hard, unforgiving line as I surveyed the crowd craning to see me, see the fae ears and elongated canines, see the flames flickering around my fingers.
"I killed your king. His tyranny is over. Your slaves are now free. If I catch you holding on to your slaves, if I hear of any household keeping them captive, you are dead. If I hear of you whipping a slave, or trying to sell one, you are dead. So I suggest that you spread the word, and act like reasonable, intelligent people. And I suggest that you stay on your best behavior until your king is ready to greet you, at which time I swear on my crown that I will yield control of this city to him. If anyone has a problem with it, you can take it up with my court." I motioned to where they stood at my back.
Rowan, Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Aedion and Lysandra - bloodied, battered, filthy - grinned like hellions. Rowan flashed his own lethal canines, while Cassian and Azriel stretched their wings menacingly. Rhysand tucked his hands casually into his front pockets, letting the aura of death embrace him like an old friend.
"Or," I said, the flames winking out on my hand, "you can take it up with me."
My lips stretched into a wicked smile. "If you dare."