Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass #5) by Sarah J. Maas

Slowly, Aelin slid her feet under herself again, the movement so pained that Elide cringed. But Aelin lifted her head, lip curling back from her teeth.

“I will kill you,” Aelin snarled at the Fae Queen.

“That’s what you said to Rowan after you met him, wasn’t it?” Maeve’s faint smile lingered. “I’d pushed and pushed your mother to bring you to me, so you could meet him, so I could have you at last when Rowan felt the bond, but she refused. And we know how well that turned out for her. And during those ten years afterward, I knew you were alive. Somewhere. But when you came to me … when you and your mate looked at each other with only hate in your eyes … I’ll admit I did not anticipate it. That I had broken Rowan Whitethorn so thoroughly that he did not recognize his own mate—that you were so broken by your own pain you didn’t notice, either. And when the signs appeared, the carranam bond washed away any suspicion on his part that you might be his. But not you. How long has it been, Aelin, since you realized he was your mate?”

Aelin said nothing, her eyes churning with rage and grief and despair.

Elide whispered, “Leave her alone.” Lorcan’s grip on her tightened in warning.

Maeve ignored her. “Well? When did you know?”

“At Temis’s temple,” Aelin admitted, glancing to Manon. “The moment the arrow went through his shoulder. Months ago.”

“And you’ve hidden it from him, no doubt to save him from any guilt regarding Lyria, any sort of emotional distress …” Maeve clicked her tongue. “What a noble little liar you are.”

Aelin stared at nothing, her eyes going blank.

“I had planned for him to be here,” Maeve said, frowning at the horizon. “Since letting you two go that day in Doranelle was so that you could lead me to the keys again. I even let you think you’d gotten away with it, by freeing him. You had no idea that I unleashed you. But if he’s not here … I’ll have to make do.”

Aelin stiffened. Fenrys snarled in warning.

Maeve shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, Aelin, you would have had a thousand years with Prince Rowan. Longer.”

The world slowed, and Elide could hear her own blood roaring in her ears as Maeve said, “My sister Mab’s line ran true. The full powers, shifting abilities, and the immortality of the Fae. You’re likely about five years away from Settling.”

Aelin’s face crumpled. This was not a draining of magic and physical strength, but of spirit.

“Perhaps we’ll celebrate your Settling together,” Maeve mused, “since I certainly have no plans to waste you on that Lock. To waste the keys, when they are meant to be wielded, Aelin.”

“Maeve, please,” Fenrys breathed.

Maeve examined her immaculate nails. “What I find to be truly amusing is that it seems I didn’t even need you to be Rowan’s mate. Or really need to break him at all. A fascinating experiment in my own powers, if anything. But since I doubt you’ll still go willingly, not at least without trying to die on me first, I’ll let you have a choice.”

Aelin seemed to be bracing herself as Maeve lifted a hand and said, “Cairn.”

The males went rigid. Lorcan turned near-feral behind Elide, subtly trying to drag her back, to work around the order he’d been given.

A handsome, brown-haired warrior walked toward them from the cluster of escorts. Handsome, if it weren’t for the sadistic cruelty singing in his blue eyes. If it wasn’t for the blades at his sides, the whip curled along one hip, the sneering smile. She’d seen that smile before—on Vernon’s face. On so many faces at Morath.

“Allow me to introduce the newest member of my cadre, as you like to call them. Cairn, meet Aelin Galathynius.”

Cairn stepped up to his queen’s side. And the look the male gave Elide’s queen made her stomach turn over. Sadist—yes, that was the word for him, without him even saying one himself.

“Cairn,” Maeve said, “is trained in abilities that you have in common. Of course, you only had a few years to learn the art of torment, but … perhaps Cairn can teach you some of the things he’s learned in his centuries of practicing.”

Fenrys was pale with rage. “Maeve, I beg you—”

Darkness slammed into Fenrys, shoving him to his knees, forcing his head to the dirt. “That is enough,” Maeve hissed.

Maeve was smiling again when she turned back to Aelin. “I said you have a choice. And you do. Either you come willingly with me and get acquainted with Cairn, or …”

Those eyes slid to Lorcan. To Elide.

And Elide’s heart stopped as Maeve said, “Or I still take you—and bring Elide Lochan with us. I’m certain she and Cairn will get along wonderfully.”





72


Aelin’s body hurt.

Everything hurt. Her blood, her breath, her bones.

There was no magic left. Nothing left to save her.

“No,” Lorcan said softly.

Just turning her head sparked agony down her spine. But Aelin looked at Elide, at Lorcan forced to hold her, his face white with pure terror as he glanced between Cairn and Maeve and Elide. Manon was doing the same—sizing up the odds, how fast she’d have to be to clear the area.

Good. Good—Manon would get Elide out. The witch had been waiting for Aelin to make a move, not realizing that … she had nothing left. There was no power left for a final strike.