Aedion couldn't sleep. It had been two days since Aelin was captured, and yet all he could see was her blood in the sand. All he could hear was Elide's voice as she told them what Maeve had done. And Lysandra's. "I serve her."
He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. As his chest expanded, he caught a whiff of his cousin's scent. Sitting bolt upright, he looked into the direction it had come from. As his eyes fell on his bureau, he silently cursed himself for being so stupid. Aelin's shirt, still stained with her blood, lay in a crumpled heap next to his worn sword belt, the Sword of Orynth sheathed in it, and the his wolfskin cloak lying over them all, half burying the battered Amulet of Orynth.
That thing. That reminded him of that long-ago queen who had failed in her sacred duty, and pushed it onto Aedion's cousin instead.
Aedion fisted his hands in his sheets, feeling a feral-like snarl building up in his chest.
Elena, for being such a coward. Lysandra, for going along with Aelin's two-faced plotting. Lorcan, for being a lazy ass and betraying them all. Manon, for conspiring with Aelin behind all their backs. And Aelin herself, for letting Maeve capture her, and being willing to die to save the world.
Aedion surged to his feet, heading to the upper deck. As he passed Rowan and Aelin's empty room, a familiar twinge of pain shot down his throat. When he reached the stern, he ignored the brown falcon flying around the crow's nest, keeping watch. He ignored the odd sailor that was scrubbing the deck, or tying a rope down. He simply strode for the railing, eyes fixed on the setting sun, washing the ocean a deep orangey purple.
Something brushed against his leg. Gavriel, in lion form. Aedion didn't tear his gaze from the skyline to acknowledge his father's presence.
And so the Lion and the Wolf stood, and stared out at the sea and the sky, watching the smoke-red sun sink behind the mountains in the west, on the far-off shores of Erilea.