Aelin
The frenzied pounding of a fist upon my chamber door roused me from my slumber, and I blearily cracked one eye open. The fact that I was still nestled between my four peacefully sleeping mates told me enough about whatever asshole was currently attempting to break down my door - they clearly weren't a threat.
After the whole debacle with the glass castle, my four, not at all overprotective mates had our temporary rooms warded tighter than Lorcan's asshole. Absolutely nothing was getting in here that they didn't allow, which meant they had obviously decided the fool who thought waking me at this ungodly hour was a good idea was my problem.
Dickheads.
I debated burrowing back under the covers until the unwelcome guest went away, but another round of feverish knocking quickly absolved me of that notion. Whoever it was, they were not going to be easily dissuaded. Grumbling complaints under my breath, I dragged myself from the cozy haven of the mattress, throwing a pillow at Cassian's head when I caught his muffled snickering.
Peacefully asleep, my ass. The fakers were just throwing me under the bus. Well, they'll regret that soon enough.
Throwing on a silken dressing gown, I ambled over to the entrance, dreaming up my retribution. All the while, the incessant knocking did not abate. The door swung open to reveal a disheveled Dorian, his fist still raised to bang against the heavy wooden door.
His raven hair was a mess, his eyes bright and manic. At the sight of me, he rocked back onto his heels, running his palms down his chest in an attempt to straighten his somewhat crumpled tunic.
"Ah, good. You're awake," He said with a slightly too-wide grin.
I snorted, leaning against the frame of the door.
"I am now. I can't imagine you meant for me to sleep through that racket?" I said pointedly.
He had the grace to adopt a chagrined - if not entirely apologetic - expression at that, but it was gone in a moment, quickly replaced by another deranged smile.
Looking him over more critically, I noted the dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes, the slight trembles that shook his hands as he shoved them into his pockets. In fact, I think that tunic was the same one he had worn to dinner last night, when he joined me and my court for his first meal outside the solitude of his rooms.
He had been cautious - nearly skittish - when he'd joined us, but had slowly settled throughout the duration of the meal, much to my relief. To their credit, that was due in large part to the actions of my court.
He'd been tense - as though he expected to be thrown out at any moment, for my court to blame him for the sins of his father, ostracize him for the circumstances of his birth - until Rowan had bowed his head in greeting, deeper than even I had expected. Likewise, Rhysand and my other Night Court mates did not hesitate to treat him with the respect he was due as the ruler of this kingdom, despite the fact that we were technically occupying his territory.
Lysandra had been as witty and lovely as ever when I had introduced her to the young king, extending a simple greeting into a drawn out conversation, explaining who she was and what she had become to me and mine. He'd gotten particular enjoyment from the story of when I'd thrown a knife at her head.
Even Aedion treated him with begrudging kindness, or, at least he did once Cassian had pulled Dorian into a light-hearted conversation about what it was like to reside with Celaena the assassin, and the king's attention was no longer fixed on the green-eyed shapeshifter.
Lysandra and I had exchanged a long-suffering glance at that, silently lamenting over the absurdity that was the male species.
Yet my cousin managed to get a hold of himself, all but barking at Dorian to stay put when the lone human had attempted to sneak out early. Meeting my cousin's gaze across the table, I couldn't help but marvel at the fact that ten years later, the three of us were all sitting together at a table again - no longer children, but rulers of our own territories.
Ten years later, and here we all were, friends - for the most part - despite the heavy weight of our history, despite the forces that had tried to shatter and destroy us.
And when Rowan and Azriel had ended the evening speaking quietly with Dorian at the end of the long table, I felt a kernel of hope burst to life, glowing softly in that dimly lit dining room.
Hope that, together, we really could create a better world.
That kernel seemed to have grown overnight, blossoming into the glimmer of life that fought against the shadows still dancing in the King of Adarlan's sapphire eyes as he stood in the hallway outside my rooms.
Dorian was nearly vibrating with excitement - or too many cups of coffee - as he said, "I figured it out - I know what I have to do!"
I opened my mouth to ask him what exactly this grand revelation was and why it couldn't have waited until a more reasonable hour when the familiar scent of pine and snow hit me, stronger in its proximity. Dorian's eyes widened as he watched my normally stoic mate embrace me from behind, snaking two broad arms around my waist and tugging me against his still-bare chest.
Dorian arched an eyebrow when I relaxed into Rowan's arms, amusement sparking at the contented rumble that emanated from my mate's chest in response.
Looking the fae warrior up and down, my friend quipped, "Well. Now I see why it was such a chore for you to come greet your old friend. I certainly wouldn't want to drag myself away if I had a bedfellow who looked like that."
Rowan tucked his head into the nape of my neck, huffing a quiet laugh against my throat as I feigned a scowl. Dorian's mischievous grin widened at my expression, and I can't help but rejoice at the glimpse of the playful man he once was - even though I'm the unfortunate recipient of his light-hearted jabs.
"Four bedfellows, actually." Rhysand purred, his voice a silken caress.
I glance over my shoulder, catching him leaning casually against one of the antechamber armchairs, his violet orbs dancing with amusement. He had taken the time to put on a shirt, at least, though apparently buttoning it was too much to ask. Instead, he left it hanging open, perfectly framing his chiseled abdomen and revealing the waistband of his low-slung trousers.
To say it was an appealing look couldn't even be called an understatement - it would have been a bold-faced lie. The male looked like walking sex, and the bastard knew it.
I narrowed my eyes at the smug tilt of his lips, responding dryly. "I hardly think the revolving door to my bedchamber is of any interest to his Highness."
That wiped the smirk right off his unfairly beautiful face, and my blood sang with victory, even as Rowan growled into my neck at the insinuation.
A sharp bark of laughter pulled my attention towards said bedroom door, which Cassian was emerging from, barefoot and shirtless. Followed closely by Azriel, the only one of my mates who had bothered to get fully dressed.
Bounding toward me, Cassian smacked a kiss onto my cheek in greeting, eyes glittering dangerously. "I'd be careful how much you tease us, little mate. It's taking significant willpower not to hunt down and gut any man or male who so much as set foot in your bedchamber as it is. I don't think you want to test us."
Dorian let out a choking sound at that - half laughter and half terror as he realized he could very well make that list.
Sensing his distress, Cassian winked at my blue-eyed friend. "Not to worry, princling. You can rest assured your life is safe after all the trouble our lovely mate went to in order to save it. Besides, you never actually made it into her bed, did you? Despite your best efforts."
Dorian's jaw hung open momentarily before he snapped it shut, evidently lost as to how to respond to my irreverent mate. I, however, was not.
Biting back a laugh, I smacked his bicep in reprimand. "Enough, Cassian, he's my friend. Not to mention a King."
Cassian grinned down at me, unrepentant.
"Oh, I'm well aware of his new status, little mate," he crooned, turning towards my friend with an appraising eye. "But princling just seems to suit him, doesn't it? That white-haired witch certainly seemed to think so."
Dorian rolled his eyes at Cassian's remark, but I knew I wasn't the only one who caught the faint dusting of pink that crept across his cheeks. That was interesting ... or concerning. I'd figure out which one later.
"It's a wonder you manage to get anything done with these mates of yours hanging around," Dorian said to me. "And here I thought you'd be the troublemaker in any relationship."
Ignoring the fervent agreement from my mates, that - oh, yes she is - I diplomatically elected to only respond to the first part of Dorian's statement.
"You learn to tune them out. It gets easier," I quipped back. "But enough about them, you've left me in suspense. What is your oh-so-important announcement you nearly knocked down my door to share?"
Dorian straightened, eyes blazing with newfound purpose. Whatever this was, it was important to him. I mean, he had risked life and limb by deciding to wake me at such an early hour, so it'd better be.
"I've decided upon my first act as King," he announced. "But after all of this I think it may be easier to show you rather than tell you. Get dressed and meet me in my office in an hour, I'll call for Aedion and Lysandra."
He turned on his heel, walking away without another word, leaving me somewhat baffled in his wake.
"Well that was odd," I murmur under my breath.
Tilting my head back to rest against the muscular panes of Rowan's chest, I watched as my friend's too-frail back disappeared down the hallway at a rapid clip.
"No," Rowan says quietly. "That was a king stepping into his birthright."
Craning my head to look up at him, I was taken aback by the grave certainty carved into his face. I could only hope Rowan was right, and that Dorian felt at least a fraction more settled in his new role.
He was more than deserving, and I had no doubt he would be a wonderful king. He just had to discover that for himself.
Heaving out a sigh, I reluctantly extracted myself from Rowan's arms.
"Well I suppose we ought to get dressed if we are to attend an audience with his Majesty. And that includes fastening our garments," I said with a pointed look at Rhysand.
His adopted air of innocence was not convincing.
They must have been just as curious as I was to discover what mysterious announcement had led Dorian to our door before the sun had fully risen, because it only took a few more sharply cajoling comments before the four of them were stalking back inside the bedroom, hopefully to get fully dressed this time.
As much as I might appreciate having their mouthwatering physiques on display, that didn't mean everyone else should get to see them.
Trailing just ahead of me, Azriel halted right outside the bedchamber. Forcing me to a stop, he leaned down until his breath skated across the shell of my ear.
"Just so you know, Princess," he purred in a deliciously sinful voice that spelled trouble. "The only revolving your bedchamber door will be doing from now on is if the four of us decide to take turns to ensure that you're always stuffed full of one of your mate's cocks."
Warmth immediately pooled in my lower abdomen, and I sucked in a choked gasp. Azriel leaned back, a pleased smirk dancing across his aristocratic face. With a final wink, he swept into the room and disappeared into the attached bathroom to freshen up, leaving me stunned and breathless.
By the wyrd, the mouth on that male should be illegal. How in the hells was I meant to focus on anything other than that delectable fantasy?
From the barely concealed grins, and light, 'accidental' caresses he and the rest of my mates subjected me to for the next hour, it was obvious that they were all well-aware of the effect of Azriel's words, and were more than enjoying seeing me hot and bothered.
Sadistic bastards.
Miraculously, I managed not to murder them - or jump their bones, and we made it out of our chamber unscathed. We joined Aedion and Lysandra in the royal offices, watching as the young king shuffled papers atop the rather ostentatious desk. I nodded in greeting to them both, smiling softly when I noted they had both proudly donned Terresan green.
Dorian had changed his tunic, exchanging it for an elegant sky-blue one with delicate silver stitching. His trousers however, still looked faintly creased and crumpled, though the black disguised most of their unkempt nature.
Whatever this was, Dorian evidently considered it of greater importance than his appearance - noteworthy for the normally impeccably dressed royal.
Aedion stepped up to my side, asking quietly, "Do you have any idea what he called us here for?"
I shook my head minutely, my sharp gaze on my friend as his eyes danced across a singular piece of parchment, running a hand through his still-tousled hair. He was lost in his own world, and it was only when the next guests arrived that Dorian finally looked up.
Nesryn wheeled in Chaol, the former Captain of the Guard, now Hand of the King, who looked entirely unhappy to be sat in a wheelchair. It was easy to see his new limitations were already grating on his pride, and I sincerely hoped the healers of the Southern Continent were half as good as the rumors said they were.
Dorian straightened behind the desk, shooting a shaky smile towards Chaol and the rest of us in welcome.
"Right," Dorian said, clearing his throat. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I called you here this morning."
I narrowed my eyes at the young King, his quivering voice betraying his nerves even as he stood steady and sure.
"I don't need to tell most of you that I had no intention of becoming King so soon, or that the only reason I survived to become the ruler of Adarlan is because of the people standing in this very room," he continued, breezily skating over the circumstances that preceded his inheritance of the throne.
My eyes fell to that pale strip of skin decorating his throat, the only evidence of the Valg prince that had held him captive in his own mind for months. The shadows in his sapphire eyes flickered, a reminder of the horrors he'd been forced to endure, the ghosts that would haunt him for years to come.
"In fact, I can't say I ever gave much thought to the type of King I would be. Not until a certain foul-mouthed assassin waltzed into my life, and forced me to confront most of which I took for granted." He shot a wry smile my way.
It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet I remembered the day he'd arrived at Endovier like it was yesterday. Even then, forced to my knees at the feet of my greatest enemy, I had seen a flicker of the man Dorian could become, the man who could befriend an assassin and not shy away from any vile, horrid aspect of her twisted soul.
"More like you dragged me kicking and screaming," I smirked back at him.
At Dorian, the man who became one of my dearest friends, who had seen everything that I was, everything that I could be, and had accepted me without conditions.
He chuckled softly. "Be that as it may, I never aspired to rule, not really. But now that I find myself thrust into this position, I find I'm also faced with a rather crucial decision."
Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Dorian's eyes were tired, with deep circles carved into his elegant face. But they were bright - shining with fierce determination for some yet-unknown resolution.
"Perrington - Erawan - is coming for us all. I can either bow to his tyranny, prepare to do anything I must to keep my crown under his rule. Or -" He turned to me, sapphire eyes blazing. "I can take a stand against him, at the side of my country's long standing enemy, my friend."
My heart thundered in my chest, all of us silent as we bore witness to the dawning of a new day for Adarlan, for the Havilliard line.
The king kept his eyes on mine, even as his lips quirked up into a sad smile. "I, for one, think I've spent long enough burying my head in the sand."
Lifting up that lone piece of parchment, Dorian cleared his throat again, his voice still rough as he began reading. Halfway through the first sentence, Aedion reached down and grabbed my hand, squeezing tightly as though to remind himself that this was real, that it was really happening.
"By decree of Dorian Havilliard, King of Adarlan, the conquered territories of Terrasen, Melisande, Fenharrow and Eyllwe are henceforth and forevermore free and sovereign nations. All titles, duties and rights afforded to the citizens of these territories will be reinstated as afforded by the governance of said nations.
Furthermore, neither slavery nor involuntary servitude shall exist within Adarlan, or any place subject to their jurisdiction. By this decree, all formerly enslaved individuals are henceforth freed, and the harshest of convictions will be laid upon any citizen knowingly engaging in the act or business of slavery.
The kingdom of Adarlan and the royal family offer, without reservation, their sincere apologies for the atrocities committed to any and all former territories, citizens or soldiers.
By the will of the king, Adarlan swears allegiance to Terresan as a newfound ally, and extends a hand in friendship to Melisande, Fenharrow and Eyllwe. Henceforth, no law-abiding foreign citizen will be harmed by royal order on Adarlan soil."
By the end of his decree, I was clutching Aedion's hand back just as tightly, tears flowing freely down my cheeks. Finally, after ten long years, Terresan was free.
I ran my fingers across the scar decorating the palm of my free hand, evidence of a promise fulfilled at last. The ground beneath my feet swayed with the realization that I had upheld my vow to Nehemia. Eyllwe was free.
I only wish my friend was still here to see it.
Dorian glanced up at me, blinking at the raw display of emotion I allowed to show so freely.
Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he said softly, "It's not much, but it's a start. Also I, uh, hope the part I included about us being allies wasn't too presumptuous. I realize I haven't formally -"
"It's perfect," I interrupt hoarsely. "Thank you. I - thank you."
It's not enough. Words will never be enough to express the depth of my gratitude to this man - not just a man any longer, but a king. The King of Adarlan, and my friend.
Dorian grins broadly, clapping his hands together. "Excellent, I was hoping you would say that. Now, I believe this momentous occasion calls for a toast."
Chaol rolls his eyes when a castle servant emerges, carrying a silver tray laden with flutes of champagne. Aedion snorts in amusement next to me, and I chuckle under my breath. The more things change, the more they remain the same.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
In a matter of moments, we all have glasses in our hands. I catch Rhysand sniffing at the beverage speculatively out of the corner of my eye.
Arrogant prat, I send fondly over our mental link.
He merely shrugs, lips tilting into a smirk. Can't blame me for having standards, my goddess.
He's saved from my snarky reply when Dorian lifts his glass high into the air, his sapphire eyes glimmering with new resolve, with precious, beautiful hope. "To freedom."
Lifting my glass in return, I glance around the room, soaking in the glorious feeling of being surrounded by my family, my court, my friends. That kernel of hope flared ever brighter as it grew roots, and embedded itself within my very soul.
The hope that the once seemingly-impossible future could be in our grasp.
"To a new world," I said. "A better world."