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

No flowers thrown in their path, no trumpets singing their return. Just the crash of the sea, the howl of the wind, and the beating sun overhead. And the rage rippling off Aelin at the sight of the soldiers stationed around the town…

All strangers were watched enough that they’d had to be careful about securing their ship. To the town, the world, they’d be boarding the Summer Lady at midmorning, heading north to Suria. But they would instead be sneaking onto the Wind-Singer just before sunrise to sail south come dawn. They’d paid in gold for the captain’s silence.

And for his information. They had been about to leave the man’s cabin when he’d said, “My brother is a merchant. He specializes in goods from distant lands. He brought me news last week that ships were spotted rallying along the western coast of the Fae territory.”

Aelin had asked, “To sail here?” at the same time Aedion had demanded, “How many ships?”

“Fifty—all warships,” the captain had said, looking them over carefully. No doubt assuming they were agents of one of the many crowns at play in this war. “An army of Fae warriors camped on the beach beyond. They seemed to be waiting for the order to sail.”

The news would likely spread fast. Panic the people. Aedion had made a note to send warning to his Second to brace the Bane for it—and counter any wild rumors.

Aelin’s face had gone a bit bloodless, and he’d braced a steadying hand between her shoulder blades. But she had only stood straighter at his touch and asked the captain, “Did your brother get the sense that Queen Maeve has allied with Morath, or that she is coming to assist Terrasen?”

“Neither,” the captain had cut in. “He was only sailing past, though if the armada was out like that, I doubt it was secret. We know nothing else—perhaps the ships were for another war.”

His queen’s face yielded nothing in the dimness of her hood. Aedion made his do the same.

Except her face had remained like that the entire walk back, and in the hours since, when they’d honed their weapons and then slipped back onto the streets under cover of darkness. If Maeve was indeed rallying an army to stand against them…

Aelin paused atop the roof, Goldryn’s bright hilt wrapped in cloth to hide its gleaming, and Aedion glanced between her shadowy figure and the Adarlan watch patrolling the temple walls mere feet below.

But his cousin turned her head toward the nearby ocean, as if she could see all the way to Maeve and her awaiting fleet. If the immortal bitch allied with Morath … Surely Maeve would not be so stupid. Perhaps the two dark rulers would destroy each other in their bid for power. And likely destroy this continent in the process.

But a Dark King and a Dark Queen united against the Fire-Bringer…

They had to act quickly. Cut off one snake’s head before dealing with the other.

Cloth on skin hissed, and Aedion glanced at where Lysandra waited behind him, on the lookout for Aelin’s signal. She was in her traveling clothes—a bit worn and dirty. She’d been reading an ancient-looking book all afternoon. Forgotten Creatures of the Deep or whatever it had been called. A smile tugged at his lips as he wondered whether she’d borrowed or stolen the title.

The lady looked to where Aelin still stood on the roof, no more than a shadow. Lysandra cleared her throat a bit and said too softly for anyone to hear, either the queen or the soldiers across the street, “She’s accepted Darrow’s decree too calmly.”

“I’d hardly call any of this calm.” But he knew what the shifter meant. Since Rowan had gone, since word of Rifthold’s fall had arrived, Aelin had been half present. Distant.

Lysandra’s pale green eyes pinned him to the spot. “It’s the calm before the storm, Aedion.”

Every one of his predatory instincts perked.

Lysandra’s eyes again drifted to Aelin’s lithe figure. “A storm is coming. A great storm.”

Not the forces lurking in Morath, not Darrow plotting in Orynth or Maeve assembling her armada—but the woman on that roof, hands braced on the edge as she crouched down.

“You’re not frightened of … ?” He couldn’t say the rest. He’d somehow grown accustomed to having the shifter guard Aelin’s back—had found the idea mighty appealing. Rowan at her right, Aedion at her left, Lysandra at her back: nothing and no one would get to their queen.

“No—no, never,” Lysandra said. Something eased in his chest. “But the more I think about it, the more … the more it seems like this was all planned, laid out long ago. Erawan had decades before Aelin was born to strike—decades during which no one with her powers, or Dorian’s powers, existed to challenge him. Yet, as fate or fortune would have it, he moves now. At a time when a Fire-Bringer walks the earth.”

“What are you getting at?” He’d considered all this before, during those long watches on the road. It was all horrifying, impossible, but—so much of their lives defied logic or normalcy. The shifter next to him proved that.

“Morath is unleashing its horrors,” Lysandra said. “Maeve stirs across the sea. Two goddesses walk hand in hand with Aelin. More than that, Mala and Deanna have watched over her the entirety of her life. But perhaps it wasn’t watching. Perhaps it was … shaping. So they might one day unleash her, too. And I wonder if the gods have weighed the costs of that storm. And deemed the casualties worth it.”