Rising Flames | Throne of Glass

54

Tucked in the corner of Lysandra's tent, Dixon shuffled her paws. She was a vixen at present, fur fluffed up against the cold. She'd come initially to ask Lysandra someone - but it seemed someone else had already beat her to it.

Sam Cortland - was that his name? He seemed around the same age as Lysandra, though his ragged look made him appear older and colder. He was undoubtedly human. His face had been unwaveringly stony since arrival, but she'd noted how his posture had changed as he sat beside Lysandra - slumping slightly at the shoulders, and his face was more relaxed.

Sam rubbed his face, sighing. 'It's been a long time, hasn't it?'

Lysandra smiled a little. 'Yes, it has.'

'You've changed.'

'Likewise.' Lysandra was completely at ease. It was Sam who replied with stiffer words, as if he weren't used to this freedom and company. 'How've you been, though?' Sam asked.

'Not awful. The dynamic was a little strange, being around so many men, but I was thankful for that. I'd rather be sitting round a campfire eating chicken wings with my hands and a lively company than bed another man.'

There was a heartbeat of silence. Then laughter filled the empty space - joyful and light. Sam braced his hands behind him and tipped his head back, chuckling. The noise sent vibrations of warmth down Dixon's spine.

'Gods,' he breathed, 'you're surely different. I would hardly recognise you if I were blind.'

'It's true,' Lysandra insisted playfully. She pretended to be disgruntled, but mirth danced in her eyes, too. 'And the general is nicer than I thought he was. He's no whore, nor is he arrogant like the rumours claim. Aedion Ashryver - I almost didn't realise it, but he looks so similar to Aelin. No wonder I felt so familiar with him.'

But Sam's expression has dimmed upon the mention of Aelin. Lysandra noticed. 'You're not with her,' she said. 'Aelin. You weren't with her when you arrived, and you came to find me. It's a little strange, coming from you.' Her voice softened. 'Are you alright, Sam?'

Dixon suddenly felt like she was intruding - yet she couldn't exactly bring herself to leave. Curiosity tugged at her paws, and she crept forwards till she was behind the bed, only their feet in view as she peered round the corner.

He said bitterly, 'Oh, I'm alright. It's Aelin. Aelin fell in love with a monster.'

Dixon almost gave herself away, the instinct to recoil making her whole body tense.

'Have you heard of the Cadre? They're the personal cabal of the Fae Queen. There are seven of them, in which I've had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting three. Rowan Whitethorn. Connall Moonbeam.' His voice became a sneer. 'Fenrys Moonbeam.'

Dixon would've laughed at the latter's surname if it weren't for the utmost loathing in Sam's voice.

'You hate them?' Lysandra asked.

Sam laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, so different from the one Dixon had heard before. 'That's an understatement. After this battle, I hope to never land my eyes on a Fae being again, or I will certainly kill them.'

Lysandra let out a faint noise of protest. 'You can't-'

'I know. It's awfully inconvenient for me.'

'But why?' Dixon could hear Lysandra's hands clenching the folds of her trousers. 'Correct me if I'm wrong, but you hate the entire Fae species just from a personal grudge against one of them - because Aelin likes him instead of you?'

'It's all of them. They're all twisted. None of them have any regard to human life - none. Fenrys is the most inhuman. He's a sadist, Lysandra.' His voice took on the tone of a whinging child. 'His job is to kill, and he enjoys it. He delights in others' pain. He's Maeve's rutting pet.'

Lysandra breathed in lightly. 'So why does Aelin love him?'

Sam spat out two words, two words coated in enough venom to make Dixon shrink back and stifle a whimper. 'They're mates.'

~

Lysandra had never seen seen this side of Sam before. The Sam in her memories had been gentle and caring and kind - and accepting. Of course, changes happened, but not as drastically as this.

Making an effort to keep her voice steady, she said, 'That doesn't mean anything. Mating bonds can be rejected.'

'And what would you know about that?' Sam snapped, infuriated. He dragged his palms down his face.

Lysandra narrowed her eyes. 'I know more than you think, Sam Cortland. And I trust Aelin's judgement. Perhaps you should've taken the time to find out why Aelin, Aelin of all people, has accepted him.'

'Since when were you and Aelin such good friends?' Sam hissed. 'Should I bother wasting my time and effort with a beast?'

Something recoiled through her in that moment - hurt. If she told Sam about her shifting, would he react in the same way and spurn and scorn her? Was that how he saw all thing not human - monsters and abnormalities?

A sort of cloudiness settled over her head, making her next actions seem almost distant, much like when she had put on that fake aura to all those men Lady Clarisse had introduced to her.

With a forced gentleness, Lysandra chose to ignore his words and address him directly. Sam was acting irrational, thoughts blinded by far too much prejudice. He wasn't thinking straight, wasn't making sense. 'Sort out your priorities,' she said. 'We're preparing for war, and no one needs to hear your whinging about your love affair. Get some sleep. Health first, relationships later. Right now, for all it concerns you, let Aelin end up with a frog.'

Sam was silent. Then he stood, turning to face her. 'I'll take your advice. Thank you for letting me rant.'

Lysandra gave a wry smile. 'Idiot. I'm always here because I don't know where else I'd be.'

Sam let out a chuckle, shaking his head as he left the tent.

Lysandra flopped back onto her bed. She was still feeling a little sick. She lay there for a few minutes, then turned her head and spoke. 'Come out, you little rascal.'

There was a hesitant scraping of pad on the wooden deck.

'Come on. You're not as sneaky as you thought you were.'

A shifter - Lysandra would know one anywhere.

Slowly, a red-furred vixen slunk out from the base of the bed.