Azriel
It had only been a day. A single day since Aelin had saved the city from the destruction of the glass castle and subsequently proclaimed her dominion over it - scaring the ever living shit out of the citizens of Rifthold in the process.
I still got shivers thinking about it, how my shadows had trilled with violent delight, my blood heated at the viciously stunning creature before me. She'd been glorious - raw and untamed power in its purest form - a fiery goddess surrounded by her court of nightmares.
It had been pure exaltation, particularly after the absolute horrorshow of being separated from her during the battle, only to then emerge to the sight of her plummeting to her death.
I'd gladly never experience that level of soul-shredding terror again, thank you very much. In fact, it'd be a miracle if I ever let her out of my sight for the rest of our lives following that little stunt. Our long, long lives, if I had anything to say about it.
While I breathed a little easier once my most loyal shadow was firmly attached to my mate, I still intended to have words with the reckless female after she'd so spectacularly leashed the denizens of the city.
Not that I'd had the chance. There were more important things to take care of first - at least, according to Aelin.
With the rest of us at her back, it didn't take long to take control of the stone castle, replacing the innocent prisoners with the few surviving guards. Not that there were many left after the battle in the sewers and the storm of glass that had shredded the castle grounds to ruins.
Lorcan, Fenrys and Gavriel had been waiting by the doors of the stone castle by the time we were done, looking unsure and out of place. Aelin didn't even spare them a glance as she stalked past them, towards the makeshift infirmary that held Dorian and Chaol.
They'd both survived, by some miracle - or, more likely, Aelin's uncompromising tenacity. Though I couldn't help but wonder if, when the two of them woke up, they might wish they hadn't made it after all. The prince, as he would have to face all that he'd endured these past months, all the pain he'd inflicted, willingly or not. And the captain - well, I'd encountered enough soldiers who would have preferred death over the limitations he might face.
Aelin had sat beside them in a silent vigil for hours, tears staining her cheeks as she waited for them to wake. When it became clear it wouldn't be happening anytime soon, it had taken all of us to eventually coax her into getting some rest herself. Even then, it wasn't until a servant named Philippa had sworn not to leave the men's sides that she allowed us to carry her to her old rooms - where she promptly crashed into unconsciousness, physically and emotionally exhausted from the hellish day.
And she wasn't the only one reeling from its effects.
Rhysand had only barely managed to hold me back from slaughtering Lorcan when the insolent male had shown up in the antechamber of Aelin's rooms, throwing around demands as though he wasn't seconds away from getting his throat ripped out for the sheer audacity of entering my mate's private space. Fenrys and Gavriel followed closely behind, though at least they were smart enough to remain in the hallway while trying to corral their wayward companion.
The male didn't even seem to realize how close he had been to not walking away from that encounter. The bastard should be thanking his lucky stars that we'd manage to take out the clock tower, because even with Rhysand restraining me, the only thing that had saved his worthless carcass was the fact I knew Rhys and Rowan had thrown up impenetrable shields around our slumbering mate the second they'd scented the other male.
The only positive outcome of that whole encounter had been when Lysandra had blocked Lorcan's path as he attempted to stalk further into the chambers - inadvertently saving his sorry life - and promptly vomited black blood and gore all over him.
All of the men and demons she'd eviscerated in leopard form did not agree with her human stomach, apparently.
Not that he hadn't deserved it. Even Fenrys and Gavriel could barely contain their amusement with poorly disguised coughs. Cassian had insisted Rhys show Aelin that memory as soon as she woke up - certain that she would laugh until she cried.
I had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't wrong.
It wasn't long after that Rowan all but threw Lorcan out on his ass, telling the three former blood-sworn to stay out of sight until Aelin called for them if they insisted on sticking around. They'd obeyed, though none of us missed the forlorn glance Gavriel had thrown over his shoulder, his wandering eyes desperately seeking out a glimpse of the progeny that did not appear.
The three fae males were now sequestered within chambers on the opposite side of the castle, as far from Aelin's rooms as possible, with one of my shadows trailing their every move. A far different kind than the one now permanently attached to my precious mate, of course.
Lysandra had eventually stopped throwing up, and claimed a room across the hall to rest, between the rooms Aedion had claimed and the chamber where the Crown Prince and Chaol still slept. Which, after everything - the magic the Crown Prince had wielded and the injuries the Captain had been dealt - was hardly surprising.
The day had taken its toll on Aelin too. Since collapsing, she'd been asleep for well over thirteen hours, with no signs of waking anytime soon. We all knew she sorely needed it, her body recovering from the long hours of planning and the physical strain of the day - not to mention the impact of such an impressive display of magic.
But just because it was understandable didn't mean it was easy on any of us. None of it was, the waiting, the sight of her slumbering, unmoving form - as still as death. Being separated from her during the battle had been a nightmare in the first place, but considering how it all went down - the ambush in the sewers, nearly failing to take out the clocktower, the fucking glass castle being torn to smithereens with Aelin inside it - well, saying the plan went off the rails was the understatement of the century.
And I knew I wasn't the only one desperate to reassure myself that she was alive and well. To hold her close, hear her melodious voice, her tinkling laugh. To make her swear never to do anything like that ever again.
But all we could do was wait.
There was much to be done, but none of us seemed to be able to tear ourselves away from her. Instead, we lurked by her bedside like besotted vultures - only managing to take the time to scrub away most of the dirt and grime from the battle, sleeping in shifts for a scant few hours each.
In an effort to keep busy - and likely because the four of us weren't the least bit helpful - Aedion had taken the lead on the practical aspects of managing the castle, from compiling death counts to organizing the staff. Anything and everything to distract himself from the fact his cousin was not yet awake.
My shadows had never felt more like a blessing in those long hours, continuously monitoring her heartbeat, her breathing - ensuring that she was, in fact, unharmed. I had no doubt she'd have some choice words about how all four of us had our magic wrapped around her in varying degrees - from Rhysand's impenetrable shield that coated her like another layer of skin, to Cassian's various wards set to notify him of any change in her status or intruder in her rooms, and Rowan's ever-changing wall of wind and ice that kept all but her most inner court from her bedroom - but I couldn't find it in me to care.
This was what happened when she insisted on terrorizing us with her near-death experiences.
While none of us could say we were handling it well, it was Rowan who seemed to struggle the most during those long hours Aelin lay unconscious. I lost count of the number of times he insisted the healer look over her, adamant that there must be something wrong that was keeping her from waking up.
When he wasn't obsessively checking her over, he was glaring at her like she stole his puppy, grumbling under his breath about her reckless actions in the glass castle. He seemed particularly vexed about the fact that Aelin had woven her power together with the prince's.
Initially, the rest of us didn't understand why this was such an issue, since the fae in Prythian didn't share magic the same way. Irritated with Rowan's attitude, and sick of being kept in the dark, Cassian finally asked why it was such a godsdamn issue.
Rowan fisted the sheets of the bed, but didn't look away from our small mate as he snarled, "She had no way of knowing if their magic would be compatible before she tried. If they hadn't been, they could have both burned out. And he's completely untrained, meaning he was one wrong move away from shattering her mind completely."
Rumbling growls filled the room, and I tilted my chin up towards the ceiling, squeezing the bridge of my nose in an effort to remain calm. Rhysand cursed softly under his breath next to me and Cassian paced the room angrily.
Insane. Our mate was insane. Brilliant, because in the end it worked, but still. A brilliant, insane fool. A miracle with a death wish.
Lowering my head, I narrowed my eyes at my sleeping mate.
Only to find Aelin glaring back up at me.
"I get us one step closer to saving both our worlds," she said, voice like gravel, "and yet I wake up to the four of you being pissy."
Despite her attitude, I don't miss the way she carefully examines us, only losing a breath once she confirms that we are unharmed. Her obvious care dissolves most of my anger, my focus consumed by greedily drinking in the sight of my mate, awake and alert once more.
Rowan was not so easily swayed.
"Considering you need to stay alive in order to actually save both worlds, I wouldn't sound so pleased with yourself," Rowan bit out. "The fact you apparently live to taunt death is only one of about twenty different reasons I'm pissy, most of which have to do with you making some of the most reckless decisions I've ever -
Aelin groans loudly, but it doesn't dissuade Rowan in the slightest. The relief flooding my veins at her snark has me nearly giddy, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to contain my amusement at the two of them butting heads.
My silver-haired brother continues his tirade without pause. " ...do I even want to know what you were thinking when you decided to weave your magic together with the untrained, untested raw magic of the Crown Prince?"
Aelin jolts upright at the mention of her friend, and four sets of hands instantly shoot out to steady her, all of us having unconsciously moved in closer, as though drawn in by her gravitational force.
"Dorian," she gasps. "Is Dorian -"
"Fine," Cassian says, rubbing soothing circles into her back. "He's asleep, has been the entire time."
A minute amount of tension melts off her face, but she remains wary and alert.
"And Chaol?" She asks.
"Asleep," Rhysand says softly. "Recovering. He was badly injured, but he's alive."
Cassian and I exchange wary glances at that. He might be alive, but the damage he sustained was ... significant. And we still didn't know how he was going to react. Or the guilt Aelin might feel upon learning his fate, despite the fact that she is the only reason he still lives.
Aelin slumps back into the pillows at the news, and I can't stand the poignant sorrow, disbelief and awe painting her beautiful face. Climbing up onto the bed next to her, I brace myself against the headboard and pull her back against my chest. Supporting her body with my own, just as I would always encourage and protect her - with everything that I am.
"It's alright, princess. Everyone is just fine," I whisper. "I've got you. We've all got you."
She takes a deep, steadying breath, wiping at her eyes. Cassian clambers up next to her at the unprovoked display of emotion, squeezing the top of her knee reassuringly.
"We did it," she breathes. "We actually did it."
I tug her closer, tucking my head into the nape of her neck, and luxuriate in the scent of embers, ash and lemon verbena.
Her breathless words finally drain the last of Rowan's anger. "Fireheart ..."
She reaches out in response, gripping his hand tightly in her smaller one and looking at us all with glittering eyes.
"I know," she says, smiling softly. "But it's over. Now, tell me everything."
So we do. Every moment since she left us in the sewers until we reunited on the ruined grounds of the castle, and then every moment she'd been asleep. We told her about the hellfire, and the wyrdhounds, and the battle with the valg soldiers. We told her about racing towards the castle just in time to see it detonate, and how we watched as she fell from the highest spire. And then the past day, of organizing and healing and Lysandra scaring the living shit out of everyone by shifting into a ghost leopard anytime one of the few remaining courtiers stepped out of line.
And of course, the shapeshifter's little interaction with Lorcan. Cassian was right, she did laugh until she cried.
When we finished, Rhysand said firmly, "Your turn."
Aelin huffs out an exasperated laugh, but it doesn't take long until the words are tumbling out. I hold her close to my chest as she explains everything that happened. How she'd freed Dorian, how they'd trapped the king. And what he said, the magnitude of what he claimed. What Dorian had still done.
I couldn't help but thank the Cauldron that she'd managed to come out of that ordeal unscathed, physically at least. I had no doubt the king's last words would haunt her, taunting her with the possibility that she could have done something to change her kingdom's fate, whether or not he was telling the truth.
Even if he was ... she was a child. She had been an eight-year old child, and none of what occurred was her responsibility. Even if she didn't believe that, it was the truth, and I would stop at nothing until she'd absolved herself of this imaginary guilt.
But that was a problem for another day. Today, I would lose myself in the living, breathing miracle I held within my arms, ground myself in the fact that my mate was here and whole, and try to forget the harrowing events of the day prior. A sentiment my brothers echoed, by the way we all converged upon our mate, all of us touching or caressing her in one way or another.
For a long moment, we said nothing, just breathing in each other's scents.
Then, Rowan said softly, "So this was your room. And that was the secret passage."
He jerked his chin towards the lone tapestry adorning the far wall. From behind it, the cool, musty scent of forgotten stone passageways wafted in.
Aelin quirked her lips. "You don't sound impressed."
I didn't blame him for it. Despite all that had occurred within these four stone walls, they were still so ... plain.
It's hard to imagine, all the stories she told us. Of a broken assassin, newly freed from imprisonment, competing for the honor and salvation of becoming the King's Champion. A lonely, human girl who had forged the most unlikely of friendships, all while fighting for her life, in more ways than one.
The reality was even stranger to consider. A faerie queen in her enemy's camp, hidden in plain sight. That the king's greatest adversary had been forging alliances and sowing the seeds of his demise, and he and his court had been none the wiser.
Cassian looked around with a skeptical eye. "After all your stories, it seems so ... ordinary."
I had to bite my lip when Aelin scrunched her nose in mock offense.
"Most people would hardly call this castle ordinary," she sniffed haughtily.
Rhysand scoffed, "At least it's no longer attached to that glass monstrosity."
"Or has that hideous clocktower attached to it," Cassian quipped.
I huffed a laugh, my breath sending tendrils of golden curls flying. At the sound, Aelin turned slightly, burrowing deeper into my embrace and grazing her nose against the bare skin of my neck.
And everything seemed to hit her, all at once.
"I thought you were dying," she said roughly. "When the clocktower didn't come down, all I could think about was that something had gone wrong, and the four of you might be in danger, might be hurt, and it killed me not to be able to go to you."
I held her impossibly tighter, trying to chase away the sudden ache in my chest.
"How do you think we felt, little mate," Cassian uttered out, "when we saw you plummeting to the ground alongside the remains of that glass tower?"
It was her turn to puff a mirthless laugh, twisting in my arms so she could look at my brother.
With a raised eyebrow, she said, "Next time, I'll just ask Dorian not to explode the glass tower when we're standing on it."
Cassian pinched her side in mock affront, and though the heaviness did not lift from his brow, it wasn't him who spoke next.
Instead it was Rhysand who said, face grave, "For that to be the first thing we saw when we emerged, little goddess ... I was going out of my mind. I had no idea if Cassian was going to get to you in time, or if ..."
Aelin reached forward, cupping his face in her delicate palm. He shuddered at her touch, leaning into it as though he couldn't quite believe she was real, that she was here and whole. I understood the feeling far too well.
"Please don't ever do that again," Rhysand said gruffly, reaching up to capture her hand in his.
She smiled gently, and said to all of us, "Next time we need to save the world, we'll do it together."
I shifted my arm so I could brush her hair back, my fingers lingering along her jaw.
"I"ll hold you to that, Princess," I murmured. "Because we came far too close to a world without you in it yesterday, and that reality is not one I could bear. You lit up my life after centuries of darkness, and I have no interest in returning to that oppressive desolation."
Aelin blinked wordlessly at my confession, and I leaned in to press a chaste kiss to the bare skin of her nape. Rhysand squeezed the hand still cupping his face, ensnaring our mate in the violet whirlpool of his gaze.
"You are my salvation, Aelin," my brother and High Lord said. "My personal goddess, the only being I would bow to outside my crown. You are my guiding light, my north star. Please never take that from me."
She opened her mouth to speak, but Rhysand pulled back slightly, allowing Cassian to capture her attention. The normally jovial warrior was as grave as I had ever seen him as he leveled our mate with a near-pleading look.
"No matter what the future holds, I'll be there with you every step of the way," Cassian swore. "But please, little mate, don't keep me from fighting at your side ever again, I don't think I could endure it. You knocked me on my ass as soon as we met, and there will be no one else for me. Ever."
A single tear tracked down Aelin's stunning face, and Rowan leaned forward, wiping it away with a delicate brush of his thumb. The fierce verity blazing in his emerald eyes bellied the gentle action.
"I spent centuries wandering this realm, from empires to kingdoms to wastelands, never settling, never stopping - not for one moment. I was always looking toward the horizon, always wondering what waited across the next ocean, the next mountain. But now, I know ... that whole time, all those centuries, I was just looking for you," Rowan said, softly cupping Aelin's cheek. "You make us want to live too, Fireheart. Not exist - but live. Don't take that away from us. Not now, not ever."
Aelin inhaled shakily, looking to each of us with unending ardor and devotion. We moved impossibly closer, practically smothering her among the down-fill pillows and silken sheets.
"I have absolutely no idea what I did to deserve the four of you, but if I had to endure every horror, every heartbreak, every pain-soaked moment in my life a hundred times over for just a moment of your love, I would do it without thinking twice," she began.
We growled at this, hating the thought of our mate in pain, but she just waved us off, laughter dancing in her mesmerizing eyes.
"But by whatever twist of fate, I have you now, you're mine," she said fiercely. "You're mine, and I swear to you that no one and nothing will take you from me. Not even the gods themselves."
Pure possession and pride roared through my veins, and I grinned down at my perfect little mate.
"I'd like to see them try."