Chapter Text
Prologue
Aelin Ashryver Galathynius Whitethrone leaned her elbows on her desk and rested her head in her hands as she read through yet another depressing report from the pile of depressing reports that had tormented her for days, weeks, months... years?
The rebuilding of Terrasen was slow, and every time Aelin began to believe that they were closer to the kingdom she had been born to rule, a new problem or obstacle appeared in front of them that needed to be solved or workaround. To be honest, Aelin felt as if she and her court were stuck in quicksand, not even noticing their slow sinking towards the bottom.
Perhaps the problems of Terrasen and its queen were not visible elsewhere in Erlea, for which Aelin could only thank the gods – even though she had recently begun to regard the whole crew as one depressing joke among others.
Aelin let her gaze wander along the meticulously written lines of the report and let out a groan in frustration as she reached the end of the paper. Yet another discouraging list of Terrasen's dwindling assets and a cautious suggestion to ask for more borrowing from Doranelle's fae Queen Sellene Whitethrone or Wendlyn's Ashyrver royal house. Both had already granted a generous loan and low interest rates for the reconstruction of Terrasen.
In the ten years it took Aelin to return home after fleeing with her cousin from the coup and the rebellious lords who led it, her people had sunk into poverty and misery.
At the same time, the conquerors of her country and the murderers of her family lived lavishly, gambled her parents' money and concentrated on growing their personal army, fearing that Terrasen's rightful heir would one day return to reclaim her throne.
Aelin had been only nineteen when she decided to take back her birthright. She had been very young. And very, very angry. With the power of that rage, she had burned down the army of lords who had conquered her kingdom and made her way back to her place on Terrasen's throne.
The Civil War had been short, bloody and cruel. The massacre had lasted only a few miserable weeks, at the end of which Aelin had beheaded the leader of the rebellion and the man who considered himself the new king of Terrasen. None of the lords who participated in the rebellion were allowed to live and their funds, mostly consisting of precious items stolen from Galathynius' royal house, were returned to Aelin.
The lords who betrayed Aelin's family deserved to die and their sons, wives and family to be exiled. Aelin did not feel guilty about the punishments that had been imposed. But she could never forget those who lost their lives because of Terrasen's civil war. Because of her war.
Good humans and faes, male and female had died for Terrasen – for Aelin – and Aelin didn't know if she could ever forgive it herself. Sometimes she still woke up in the middle of the night sweaty with the voices of her dying friends ringing in her ears. Too many had lost their lives. And even more would lose their lives if the King of Adralan implement his threat and went to war against Terrasen.
Terrasen, let alone Aelin, could not afford another war. Terrasen's army was small, their funds were almost non-existent and the country was just rising from the ashes to a new glory.
And that wasn't all.
Aelin sighed tiredly, leaned against the back of her upholstered chair and put her hands on her belly. The small belly bump had just started to stand out from under the clothes.
Over the past sixteen years, in the midst of rebuilding, grieving for the lost and the stress of ruleing, Aelin and her husband Rowan Whitethorne had welcomed their first child, Evaline, into the world. That was eight years ago.
A second baby hadn't been in the plans anytime soon, especially since Adralan's threat hung over their kingdom, but it had just happened. Aelin was four months pregnant and despite all the difficulties and challenges, she couldn't claim to be sorry for the second child. These children secured Terranen's future; which was on a more shaky basis than Aelin agreed to admit to herself, let alone to her court.
Aelin closed her heavy eyelids, pulled her shirt aside and laid her hands on her bare belly. She looked for possible signs of movements, almost wishing she could feel something, even though the healer had said that Aelin wouldn't feel her baby's movements for weeks. Still, Aelin hoped. Nowadays, she hoped for a lot of things, because he didn't seem to be able to do better.
She hoped that Adralan would not be a threat. She hoped that Terrasen's funds would be sufficient for the reconstruction and the opening of trade routes. She hoped that he would soon be able to start repaying his loan. She hoped, hoped, hoped...Aelin hoped that all trials would be over and she, her court and her family could live in peace. Aelin hoped for peace.
In sixteen years, the world has changed a lot.
Aelin had change a lot. She was no longer the lost princess of the fallen royal house. Aelin was a queen, she was a mate, she was a carranam, she was a wife, she was... mother. Mother of one gorgeous, stubborn daughter. And soon the mother of another child.
Above all, Aelin wished her children peace. Peace to grow up without the weight that had been placed on Aelin's shoulders the day she woke up between her parents' cold bodies. On that horrible night, when she and Adeion had rushed through the forest with a mob of lord on their heels, who hunted them like game.
Adeion should not even have been in the forest mansion when the forces assembled by the rebellious lords had attacked. He should have been in Orynth, but he had insisted on staying with Aelin. Aelin's parents would have wanted to send his to the capital when news of the unrest at court had reached the forest mansion, but Adeion had refused.
Lady Marion had persuaded Aelin's parents to let Adeion stay one more night. For one more night... that changed everything. And that lead to downfall of many people.
Lady Marion had died on that horrific night after the forest mansion had been attacked and Aelin's parents was killed. Marion had ensured that Aelin and Adeion escaped.
Aelin didn't know where she would be if Adeion hadn't been with her that night. If he hadn't dragged Aelin out of the mansion when the rebels unleashed hell. They had rushed hand in hand through the chaos, screaming and massacre out into the dark forest. And the men had gone after them, armed with horses and bows; laughing at the two little runaway and betting who would shoot an arrow into the little princess's heart.
Aelin and Adeion had no weapons. They only had each other's support, as they flounder across the roots and uneven terrain. They would no doubt have been caught if the forest itself had not helped them forward and slowed down the pursuers.
They would have been caught if... Unless a stranger had appeared and killed their pursuer with a Orynth sword. They did’t know how the woman had gotten hold of it. She had never told them that. The woman had simply pushed the sword into Adeion's hands after her bloody deed and ordered Aelin's cousin to strap it to his back. The woman's voice had been tense.
She had taken the horse of one of the men who had preyed on Aelin and Adeion – now a very dead man – and had put Aelin in the saddle. Then she had climbed onto the horse herself and helped Adeion behind her.
The woman had glanced over her shoulder once. So was Aelin. Far beyond the forest, smoke rose and even to the farthest corner of the forest, the echo of people's cries of pain and terror could be heard. Galathynius' royal house had fallen. The coup lords would find out at dawn that the niece and heir of Galathynius of Orlo had survived.
The woman had turned away and spurred the horse towards the sea and the lands beyond.
The kingdom that had stood behind them for centuries burned to ashes.
The woman had told Adeion and Aelin to call her Miss Vaeda.
They had ridden all night without saying much. Halfway through, Aedion had fallen asleep. Somehow, miraculously, and despite his worrying swaying, the cousin did not slip off the horse at full gallop.
Aelin hadn't been able to sleep on that trip.
She had been exhausted, very exhausted, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw her parents, she saw the massacre, she saw the burning Terrasen.
She couldn't sleep.
That night Aelin did not cry. She was far too numb to it. The time for tears came later. Weeks of sailing that she, Adeion and Miss Vaeda spent below deck on their voyage to Wendlyn.
Aelin remembered how in the wee hours of the morning, as they rode across the wide moor, she had looked up and seen Miss Vaeda's face for the first time properly. Aelin, even deep in her grief and shock, was surprised to see how young the woman looked. Barely twenty years old. The light brown skin was dotted with freckles, like drops of water on the rocks. Dark brown curls escaped from the braid and there was a distant gaze in her golden-brown eyes.
"Thank you for saving me and my cousin," Aelin had said, breaking the long-standing silence. She was startled when she heard her own hoarse voice. Those had been the first words she had uttered, possibly in hours, but time had lost its meaning that night.
Miss Vaeda had startled when she heard Aelin speak and looked down at her, as if remembering that she was not alone. After a long moment of silence, during which she and Aelin looked at each other with mutual curiosity, the woman had spoken:“I wish I had come earlier," she had said in a pleasantly hoarse voice and avoided Aelin's gaze. "I could have saved more."
Aelin had been too tired and confused to understand the meaning of the words at the time. She pressed herself against the horse's neck and watched the landscape fly by as they galloped back into the forest and away from the open moor. Aelin didn't know how long the silence had lasted, but eventually—perhaps minutes or hours later—Miss Vaeda had resumed her quiet talk. “I sensed that something was going on, but I didn't act in time. I'm not used to...” Miss Vaeda fell silent and squeezed the reins of the horse. "It's not my place to interfere in such matters,” she finally stated. It was as if she was trying to explain it to herself, not to Aelin, who listened in silence without disturbing her rescuer's scattered train of thoughts.
"I'm a coward," The woman finally blurt out. “I'm so used to running away that staying feels unnatural.” Her voice faded. Miss Vaeda glanced down at Aelin, and then looked over her shoulder at Aedion, who had fallen asleep against her, whose back Orynth's sword beat rhythmically. Miss Vaeda said so quietly that Aelin could scarcely hear: "I'm sorry Aelin. I can't even imagine how you feel right now.” Miss Vaede had spoken no more during the ride. The next time she had opened her mouth, she had threatened the captain of the cargo ship with a sickle and demanded to be allowed to board the ship with her two "brother children".
Aelin hadn't been able to say how she felt. Not when he had squeeze Miss Veada's hand as she boarded the ship to Wendlyn, nor now, when she lay in her padded office chair with her hand on her belly, exhaustion making a permanent home in her bones.
Aelin opened her eyes and watched the shadow of the candle flame play on the papers spread out in front of her.
Aelin avoided the memory of what had happened as much as she could. She didn't want to think about what had led to her and Adeion ending up in Wendlyn. Sometimes, however, memories of that night crept into Aelin's mind uninvited, making a nest in her mind and preventing her from sleeping.
If only insomnia had only been caused by pregnancy.
Of course, that was part of the blame for Aelin's staying up late and sleeping late, but sometimes she couldn't close her eyes until the sun made its first appearance beyond the horizon. Especially not when she didn't know where her eight-year-old daughter was.
Sometimes, when Aelin looked at her daughter, her silver hair, and Ashryver's eyes, where the shining gold was brighter than the rays of the sun itself, she saw herself. That eight-year-old girl who ran into the woods while her court was being slaughtered. What would Aelin give so that Evalin or her unborn child would never have to go through the same thing? A fucking a lot, that's for sure.
Aelin let out a long breath that sounded loud in the quiet office. The flame of the candle vibrated, but did not go out. And it wouldn't go out unless Aelin let it go out.
Aelin straightened her back, blinked her eyes and stared at the pile of papers still waiting on her desk. It was already late and Aelin really wanted to relax in the nearest armchair and read until dawn. But the paperwork was badly behind for the very reason that Aelin had chosen an armchair instead of her paperwork on too many evenings.
On another night, Rowan would have been with her, keeping her company and preventing Aelin from sinking too deep into gloom as they sift through a mountain of depressing reports. Tonight, however, Evalin had been restless, and in order to offer his beloved wife at least a moment of peace, Rowan had offered to put Evalin to bed. Or at least that's what he had claimed. Aelin thought it was and firmly believed that Rowan had just escaped the misery of paperwork. What an asshole.
Curling up in front of the fireplace with a book began to feel like a more appealing solution. Aelin didn't think she could deal with any more bad news. Going through the endless mountain of paper felt like a new creative punishment from the gods for all of Aelin's sins.
Sighing, Aelin pulled her loose shirt – well, it was Rowan's shirt – over her rounded belly and stood up, rubbing her sore lower back. Apart from Rowan's shirt, she was wearing nothing but underpants and wool socks. Her toes were cold in the freezing corridors of the castle, especially in the spring, when the snow was still considering its chances of melting away to make way for the summer. Aelin yawned and blew out the slowly melting candle on her table. She didn't need any light other than the rays of the moon shining through the windows to see it, but there was something calmingly normal about working by candlelight.
Aelin left her office and closed the door behind her. The lock clicked softly. The corridors were almost completely deserted at this late hour. Aelin met only one chambermaid on her way, who smiled and nodded her head as she passed by with a candle. It had taken humans a long time before they ceased to be nervous about their fae queen and her strange court. Some were still frightened. No one was directly hostile, but as the faes slowly began to return to Terrasen after years of living in exile, the mood between mortals and immortals had been... charged.
Neither side fully trusted the other.
You just had to be patient with them, Elide kept reminding her every time the castle heard a new news story about a badly vexed neighbour quarrel that would have escalated into a fight without intervention.
Rebuilding did not only mean repairing the buildings of those who had been destroyed by the rebellion and then left in ruins in the hostile desire of the Terrasen lords to take revenge on their former royal house. It was also a question of rebuilding the nation.
Aelin had welcomed the faes back to Terrasen to the horror of many mortals. Almost all the immortals had fled from Terrasen at the time of the coup. After all, their existence was one of the reasons why mortal lords had wanted to overthrow they king. The faes who had stayed in Terrasen in spite of everything or were caught later... Hearing their fate, it was understandable why the prejudice was mutual.
Elide Lochan knew what it felt like to live in fear of others. She had been captured by her uncle, while Aelin and Adeion had managed to escape like many other lucky ones. Elide was forced to watch from the sidelines the death of her parents and the desecrate of Galathynius' royal house. Whatever the twisted reason, Vernon Lochan hadn't killed his niece. Maybe because she had been a child. Perhaps because he believed that he would benefit more from Elide if she were alive. In any case, Elide had lived in captivity for the ten years it took Aelin to take back her kingdom.
But Elide Lochan also knew what it felt like when others were afraid of her. Or not really her. Or not even her husband Lorchan, who stirred up unease in every rational soul. Neither of them directly caused fear. The reason was their thirteen-year-old daughter Calla. Elide's legacy, combined with Lorchan's fae blood, had spawned something no one could have expected. Elide had started to find out about her mother's family background after realizing that her daughter had grown iron teeth.
Calla was a witch.
And not just any witch. Irontooth witch. Without the sharp fae ears, Calla could have been mistaken for a full-blooded irontoothed witch.
Humans were afraid of Calla and even the faes avoided her. Many servants had resigned when Calla first flashed her nails. Calla cut herself more often than hurt anyone else, but no one seemed to care. She was bleeding blue.
Elide had not wanted to isolate her daughter from the world, but after reaching puberty, when the most obvious signs of Calla's strange legacy appeared, Calla barely agreed to leave Perranthen's mansion.
Lorchan and Elide had to go through days of careful persuasion to get their grumpy daughter to leave the house at least once a week. The girl had clearly inherited her grumpiness from her father.
Calla hated it when people stared at her and whispered to each other when they thought she couldn't hear. Aelin understood why Calla would have preferred to stay in her room. The curiosity mixed with the fear of others was apt to pull Calla's shoulders into a slump. Aelin herself had faced similar treatment from many when she was a half-fae child, first at the court of Ashryver's cousins and later, as a older, at the court of Queen Sellene Whitethorn.
But at least Aelin had met persons like her when she lived in Wendlyn. Elide, Lorcha, Rowan, Aelin and Aedion had considered the possibility of inviting a witch to Terrasen to train Calla, but after lengthy discussions and outright arguments, it had been found to be too dangerous. Who knew what irontoothed witches would think of a half-blood witch.
Aelin shuffled, of course most upright, across the corridor and pushed the library doors open with her shoulder. It was warm in the library and Aelin was happily breathing in the embers-scented air. There were still a few coals smoldering in the fireplace and Aelin made the flames burst alive again with the wave of her fingers. She collapsed on the couch and stretched out her legs straight towards the warming flames. Aelin was constantly either too cold or too hot. That was also due to pregnancy. She was constantly uncomfortable and the situation seemed to get even worse from this.
Aelin huffed and slumped against the sofa cushions. Sometimes there was a day when she considered the possibility of strangling her mate for the good of getting her pregnant. Again. Aelin blamed Rowan for her pregnancy rather than admitting to herself that she had only half-accidentally failed to drink the contraceptive.
Aelin reached for her unfinished book from the coffee table where she had left it yesterday. She opened her book from where she had left off and put one foot on top of the other as she began to read while listening to the homely crackling of firewoods in the fireplace.
She had barely finished the new chapter when she heard the library door open. She sensed the man before she saw him. The scent of Rowan's pine and snow filled the library as he entered. Aelin didn't look up from her book as Rowan walked softly across the room.
Aelin raised her head only after Rowa sat down on the couch next to her, sighing heavily and pulling her legs into his lap. “I think it took you longer than expected to get Eva to sleep," Aelin said in a chatty tone, carefully marked the page where she had left and closed her book. Rowan flashed a quick smile at Aelin. "I had to read him three bedtime stories before she even agreed to consider sleeping.” Aelin laughed softly and leaned her head on the back of the sofa, looking at her husband staring at the fire.
"Eva, you know, that reminds me of another stubborn young female who almost had to be threatened before she would obey." Rowan grinned and then, much to Aelin's delight, began to rub her aching legs."I don't know who you're talking about." Aelin replied, smiling blissfully and sighing contentedly as her tense muscles began to relax. "I think Eva reminds me of a very grumpy and hard-faced male who was upset when he wasn't obeyed."
Rowan chuckled growling. “Doesn't sound familiar," he said and pressed a soft kiss to Aelin's knee as he ran his rough hands along her legs. “Is that my shirt, Fireheart?"
Aelin raised one eyebrow and snorted, expressing her opinion on Rowan's question. "It's our shirt. You left it on the back of the chair. All the clothes left in it are shared."
Rowan shook his head, smiling slightly. “Have you seen me wear one of those ridiculous dresses or your little nightgowns that you leave on the back of the same armchair?"
Aelin blinked her eyes innocently and gave her husband a devilish grin. "Don't say you haven't tried." Rowan laughed and leaned down to press a kiss on Aelin's mouth. Aelin opened up to Rowan, grabbed him by the back of his head, and pulled him against her. This was the first moment of the whole day when they could really be alone, without the court or their daughter who followed them everywhere. Or well, almost alone. Rowan, much to Aelin's displeasure, pulled his mouth away from Aelin's lips so that he could press a kiss on her cheek, then on her neck, on her bare collarbone, and finally on her rounded belly.
"How is daddy's little girl?" Rowan hummed on Aelin's belly as he pushed her shirt aside. Aelin rolled her eyes, adjusting the irritated look on her face. "Your son has been leaning against my bladder all day." Rowan looked up and their eyes met in the library lit by the fireplace. Rowan's eyes twinkled and softened as they met Aelin's. “I still think there's a girl coming," Rowan said. "Fenrys and Adeion agree with me."
Aelin raised both her eyebrows. "Excuse me, but who's pregnant here?" she continued, "I'm sure the child is a boy. And Elide and Lysandra agree with me." It was Rowan's turn to raise his eyebrows. The asshole smiled as he said, "You're as grumpy as you were when you were waiting for Evaline." The smile turned into a smug one. "They say that a female is most emotional when she is expecting a girl." Aelin slapped Rowan's shoulder. "Did you read that in some parenting guide?"
Rowan just smiled, as if he had just won the argument. What a asshole. Aelin sighed and threw herself against the couch cushions, glower at her husband. Rowan had the audacity to look satisfied. “Let's bet," Aelin said and sat up partially. Rowan looked curious and tilted his head. "From where, Fireheart?” he asked. Aelin smiled slyly. She raised her hand and slipped one of the silver strands of hair that had fallen on Rowan's face behind the male's sharp ear." So you say that a child is a girl. Me, that it's a boy. Let's bet. Loser changes diapers for the first month.”
Rowan laughed again, and Aelin couldn't quite hide her smile behind her supposedly ill-tempered mask.
It was rare to see Rowan so relaxed and cheerful now days. Well, it had always been rare, which made Aelin enjoy Rowan's laughter even more.
"Deal," Rowan grinned and then leaned over to say to Aelin's belly. "Don't let me down, my girl.” Aelin gently pushed Rowan away, but laughed. "Don't try to turn him to your side. After all, in my body, he will live as a free tenant for another five months."
Rowan looked up at Aelin and something behind his eyes seemed to darken. Aelin's instincts were immediately alerted when Rowan sat up across her, his expression now completely serious. The smile had disappeared like letters on the sand with the tide.
"What?" Aelin was already mentally prepared for new bad news. Rowan didn't say anything for a long time. He just looked at Aelin with a look on his face that Aelin couldn't decipher. Was it hesitation?
Finally, Rowan sighed heavily, which worried Aelin even more. "What's happened, Rowan?" Aelin stared at her husband's face with burning eyes, looking for an explanation for Rowan's seriousness. The light from the fireplace cast a shadow on Rowan's face, hiding the tattoos of the running along his face.
"Nothing, yet," Rowan said. If it was an attempt to calm Aelin down, the attempt failed miserably. "What?" Aelin snpa, already going through all the possibilities of what might have happened in her head. "Tell me, Rowan!" It was the Queen's order.
Rowan sighed again, clearly unwilling to obey. Still, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a brown envelope. “This came today," he explained as he handed the letter to Aelin. “I met the courier in the hallway," Rowan continued in a quieter voice. "It's addressed to you."
Aelin snatched the letter from Rowan's hand and examined it in the light of the fireplace. The envelope did not contain the sender's address, only her name written in careful italics and... postmark. "Adralan," Aelin whispered in amazement as she examined the envelope. "This is sent from Adralan."
Rowan nodded grimly, his expression tense. “I noticed. It doesn't have a royal coat of arms, but..." He shook his head. “I don't know anyone who would send us a letter from there like this. Our spies know how to contact us." Aelin smiled affirmatively and turned the envelope over.
The seal looked intact and did not have a coat of arms. It was just a stain of red wax. "Have you read this?” Aelin asked, looking up at Rowan. Aelin didn't doubt for a moment that he could open the envelope without her noticing. Rowan snorted, looking almost injured. "I don't read your letters, Fireheart."
Aelin sneer and then turned her attention back to the letter. She took a deep breath. "You don't have to read it tonight," Rowan hastened to say and reached out his hand, as if to grab a letter.
Aelin pulled it closer to her and snapped, "Do you think I can sleep if I don't know what this letter is about?"
Rowan looked worried. "It can be anything. From anyone!" From any Adralina. Did the letter contain threats, ridicule or political lies?
There is only one way to find out.
Aelin slipped her finger under the seal and tore it. She pulled out a cream color paper folded in half from the envelope. The paper was thick and fine, and not a single drop of ink had seeped through that would reveal what the letter was about or who it had come from.
Ael's hands were steady as she unfolded the letter.
The letter was written in careful and well-rehearsed italics. It began: Your royal highness Queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius Whitethroen, my name is Rina Havilliard.
Aelin read the letter from beginning to end. Once. And then another. And for the third time. Her heart rate increased with each reading. Not out of fear, but out of enthusiasm.
Aelin stared at the postscript.
I hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely,
Rina Solena Havilliard, Princess of Adralan.
And underneath, as if on a whim, had been added:
From the Blackbeak Witch Clan.
Aelin counted the letter and slowly folded it in half. Her thoughts flew. Princess Rina's suggestion was reckless and bordered on treason, but it could calm the tense situation between Adralan and Terrasen. That could prevent war.
"What's in it, Aelin?" Aelin woke up from her thoughts as Rowan squeezed her knee and repeated the question fiercely for the umpteenth time. Aelin glanced at her husband, then at the letter, and then at her husband again. She felt a grin pull up the corners of her mouth.
This letter - this proposal - could change everything. It gave a hope that things could change. Tensions could subside and enemies could become allies.
Aelin's grin spread into a sly devil's smile, which didn't calm Rowan's nerves, as he still looked worried. Aelin grabbed Rowan's hand and as he spoke, his voice was more steady and stronger. More determined. And full of hard-to-hold enthusiasm. "Something that I have to answer as soon as possible."
All right, Rina Havilliard, from the Blackbeak clan, Aelin thought as she got up from the couch and hurried out of the library into the moonlit corridor.
Let's see where your crazy plan leads. I'm at least curious to see what you still achieve.