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

And that dark power was still coiled around her bones, so tightly that one move of aggression … one move, and her bones would snap.

Maeve said to Lorcan, “No to what, Lorcan? Elide Lochan being taken with us if Aelin decides to put up a fight, or my generous offer to leave Elide be if Her Majesty comes willingly?”

One look at the brown-haired Fae warrior—Cairn—standing at Maeve’s side, and Aelin had known what he was. She’d killed enough of them over the years. She’d spent time with Rourke Farran. What he’d do to Elide … Lorcan also knew what a male like Cairn would do to a young woman. And if he was sanctioned by Maeve herself …

Lorcan said, “She is innocent. Take the queen, and let us go.”

Manon even snapped at Maeve, “She belongs to the Ironteeth. If you have no quarrel with me, then you have no quarrel with her. Leave Elide Lochan out of it.”

Maeve ignored Manon and drawled to Lorcan, “I command you to stand down. I command you to watch and do nothing. I command you to not move or speak until I say so. The order applies to you as well, Fenrys.”

And Lorcan obeyed. So did Fenrys. Their bodies simply stiffened—and then nothing.

Elide twisted to beg Lorcan, “You can stop this, you can fight it—”

Lorcan didn’t even look at her.

Aelin knew Elide would fight. Would not understand that Maeve had been playing this game for centuries, and had waited until this moment, until the trap was perfect, to seize her.

Aelin found Maeve smiling at her. She had played, and gambled, and lost.

Maeve nodded as if to say yes.

The unspoken question danced in Aelin’s eyes as Elide screamed at Lorcan, at Manon, to help. But the witch knew her orders. Her task.

Maeve read the question in Aelin’s face and said, “I will bear the keys in one hand, and Aelin Fire-Bringer in the other.”

She’d have to break her first. Kill her or break …

Cairn grinned.

The escorts were now hauling something up the beach, from the longboat they’d rowed over from their awaiting ship. Already, the dark sails were unfurling.

Elide faced Maeve, who did not deign to glance her way. “Please, please—”

Aelin simply nodded at the Fae Queen. Her acceptance and surrender.

Maeve bowed her head, triumph dancing on her red lips. “Lorcan, release her.”

The warrior’s hands slackened at his sides.

And because she had won, Maeve even loosened her power’s grip on Aelin’s bones. Allowed Aelin to turn to Elide and say, “Go with Manon. She will take care of you.”

Elide began crying, shoving away from Lorcan. “I’ll go with you, I’ll come with you—”

The girl would. The girl would face Cairn, and Maeve … But Terrasen would need that sort of courage. If it was to survive, if it was to heal, Terrasen would need Elide Lochan.

“Tell the others,” Aelin breathed, trying to find the right words. “Tell the others that I am sorry. Tell Lysandra to remember her promise, and that I will never stop being grateful. Tell Aedion … Tell him it is not his fault, and that …” Her voice cracked. “I wish he’d been able to take the oath, but Terrasen will look to him now, and the lines must not break.”

Elide nodded, tears sliding down her blood-splattered face.

“And tell Rowan …”

Aelin’s soul splintered as she saw the iron box the escorts now carried between them. An ancient, iron coffin. Big enough for one person. Crafted for her.

“And tell Rowan,” Aelin said, fighting her own sob, “that I’m sorry I lied. But tell him it was all borrowed time anyway. Even before today, I knew it was all just borrowed time, but I still wish we’d had more of it.” She fought past her trembling mouth. “Tell him he has to fight. He must save Terrasen, and remember the vows he made to me. And tell him … tell him thank you—for walking that dark path with me back to the light.”

They opened the lid of the box, pulling out long, heavy chains within.

One of the escorts handed Maeve an ornate iron mask. She examined it in her hands.

The mask, the chains, the box … they had been crafted long before now. Centuries ago. Forged to contain and break Mala’s scion.

Aelin glanced at Lorcan, whose dark eyes were fixed on her own.

And gratitude shone there. For sparing the young woman he’d given his heart to, whether he knew it or not.

Elide begged Maeve one last time, “Don’t do this.”

Aelin knew it would do her no good. So she said to Elide, “I’m glad we met. I’m proud to know you. And I think your mother would have been proud of you, too, Elide.”

Maeve lowered the mask and drawled to Aelin, “Rumor claims you will bow to no one, Heir of Fire.” That serpentine smile. “Well, now you will bow to me.”

She pointed to the sand.

Aelin obeyed.

Her knees barked as she dropped to the ground.

“Lower.”

Aelin slid her body until her brow was in the sand. She did not let herself feel it, let her soul feel it.

“Good.”

Elide was sobbing, wordlessly begging.

“Take off your shirt.”

Aelin hesitated—realizing where this was going.

Why Cairn’s belt carried a whip.

“Take off your shirt.”