Сара Маас - Kingdom of Ash

Erawan stilled. Just a fraction.

“Or is that another lie?” Aelin mused. “A risky thing for you to do, then—to enter this city. My city, I suppose. To see who’s waiting for you. I heard you went to an awful lot of trouble to try to kill one of my friends this summer. Silba’s Heir. If I were you, I might have been more thorough in trying to end her. She’s here, you know. Came all this way to see you and repay the favor.” Aelin let her flame grow brighter as Erawan again hesitated. “Maeve knew. She knows that the healers are here, waiting for you. And will let them at you. Ask her where her owl is—the healer she keeps chained to her. To protect her from you.”

“Don’t listen to her nonsense,” Maeve spat.

“She even made a bargain: to spare their lives in exchange for ridding her of you.” Aelin waved Goldryn toward Orynth. “You’re walking into a trap the moment you enter the city. You, and all your little Valg friends. And only Maeve will be left standing in the end, Lady of All.”

Maeve’s shadows rose in a wave. “I have had enough of this, Aelin Galathynius.”

Aelin knew Maeve would go on ahead, without Erawan. Work without him, if need be.

The dark king looked toward Maeve and seemed to realize it, too.

Maeve’s black hair flowed around her. “Where is the King of Adarlan? We would have words with him.” Simmering, vicious rage pulsed from the queen.

Aelin shrugged. “Off fighting somewhere. Likely not bothering to think about you.” She inclined her head. “A valiant effort, Maeve, to try to divert the conversation.” She turned to Erawan. “The healers are waiting for you in there. You’ll see I’m telling the truth. Though I suppose it will be too late by then.”

Doubt. That was indeed doubt in Erawan’s eyes. Just a crack. An open doorway.

And it would now be upon Yrene—Yrene and the others—to seize it.

She had not wanted to ask, to plan this. Had not wanted to drag anyone else in.

But she trusted them. Yrene, her friends. She trusted them to see this through. When she was gone. She trusted them.

Maeve stepped forward. “I hope you have enjoyed yourself these past few moments.” She bared her too-white teeth, all traces of that cool grace vanished. Even Erawan seemed to blink in surprise at it—and again hesitate. As if wondering whether Aelin’s words had struck true. “I hope you are entertained by your prattling idiocy.”

“Eternally so,” Aelin said with a mocking bow. “I suppose I’ll be more entertained when I wipe you from the face of the earth.” She sighed skyward. “Gods above, what a sight that will be.”

Maeve extended a hand before her, darkness swirling in her cupped palm. “There are no gods left to watch, I’m afraid. And there are no gods left to help you now, Aelin Galathynius.”

Aelin smiled, and Goldryn burned brighter. “I am a god.”

She unleashed herself upon them.

Rowan pried free the shard of iron from his shoulder as Maeve and Erawan arrived.

As Aelin went to meet them before the walls of Orynth.

His magic guttered within his veins, but he clapped a hand to his bleeding arm as he ran for the southern gate. Willed the healing.

Flesh stung as it knitted together—too slowly. Too damn slowly.

But he couldn’t fly with a shredded wing, as he’d surely have if he shifted now. Block after block, through the city that would have been his home, he ran for the southern gate.

He had to get to her.

A warning shout from the battlements had him throwing up a shield on instinct. Just as a siege ladder collided with the wall above him.

Morath’s footsoldiers spilled over it, into the awaiting blades of both khagan soldier and Bane warrior. Too many.

Ironteeth clashed with Crochans above them—Ironteeth bearing several Morath footsoldiers apiece. They deposited them on the battlements, on the streets.

People screamed. Further into the city, people were screaming. Fleeing.

Only a few blocks to the southern gate—to Aelin.

And yet … those screams of terror and pain continued. Families. Children.

Home. This was to be his home. Already was, if Aelin were with him. He would defend it.

Rowan drew his sword and hatchet.

Fire burst beyond the walls, bathing the city in gold. She couldn’t have more than an ember. Against Erawan and Maeve, she should already be dead. Yet her flame still raged. The mating bond held strong.

White flashed beside him, and then there was Fenrys, stained with blood and snarling at the soldiers pouring over the walls. One neared them, and a swipe of a mighty paw was all it took for the grunt to be in pieces.

A swipe—and then a burst of black wind. Lorcan.

They halted for all of a heartbeat. Both males looked to him in question. They knew full well where Aelin was. What the plan had been.

Another blast of flame from beyond the walls.

But the screams of the innocent in the city … She would never forgive him for it. If he walked away.

So Rowan angled his weapons. Turned toward the screaming. “We swore an oath to our queen and this court,” he snarled, sizing up the soldiers pouring over the walls. “We will not break it.”

Even three of the great powers of the realm battling before the city gates was not enough to halt the war around them.

Morath swarmed, and the exhausted khaganate army turned to meet them once more. To meet the new horrors that emerged, beasts of snapping teeth and baying howls, ilken sailing above them. No sign of the Valg princesses, not yet. But Elide knew they were out there. Morath had emptied its darkest pits for this final destruction.

And on the plain, before the gates, fire and darkness blacker than the fallen night warred.

Elide didn’t know where to look: at the battle between the armies, or the one between Maeve and Erawan, and Aelin.

Yrene remained beside her, Lord Darrow, Lysandra, and Evangeline watching with them.

A flare of light, an answering wave of darkness.

Aelin was a fiery whirlwind between Maeve and Erawan, the fighting swift and brutal.

She had no power left. Before the Wyrdgate had ripped it from her, Aelin might have been able to face one of them and emerge triumphant. But left with a whisper of power, and after a day of wielding it on this battlefield …

Maeve and Erawan didn’t know.

They didn’t know that Aelin was only deflecting, not attacking. That this drawn-out dance was not for the spectacle, but because she was buying them all time.

Down in the dark beyond the walls, soldiers died and died. And in the city, as siege ladders breached the battlements, Morath surged into Orynth.

Still Aelin held the gate against Erawan and Maeve. Didn’t let them get one step closer to the city. The final sacrifice of Aelin Galathynius for Terrasen.

The moment they realized Aelin had nothing left, it would be over. Any amusement they felt at this shallow exchange of power and skill would vanish.

Where were the others? Where was Rowan, or Lorcan, or Dorian? Or Fenrys and Gavriel? Where were they, or did they not know what occurred before the city gates?

Lysandra’s breathing was shallow. Nothing—the shifter could do nothing against them. And to offer Aelin assistance might be the very thing that made Erawan and Maeve realize the queen was deceiving them.

There was no gentle voice at Elide’s shoulder. Not anymore. Never again would she hear that whispering, wise voice guide her.

See , Anneith had always murmured to her. See .