Rising Flames | Throne of Glass

46

The sun was setting, rays bleeding over the skyline of Wendlyn. Raucous cheers could be heard from nearby taverns from those who had no care in the world. Endymion wished fate had been slightly different: that he, perhaps, could have been amongst those people.

A child skipped down the streets, slender, pointed ears poking out from her hood.

Endymion stiffened imperceptibly, tensing as she headed for his figure dithering in the shadows.

'Are you Endymion Whitethorn?'

Her voice was high and soft, the blithe childish tone ringing in his ears.

He frowned, but his voice was gentle in reply. 'I am.'

'A nice man told me I'd find you here.'

Nice? Which man that he knew could be called nice?

'Bye!'

Endymion glanced up from the crumpled note she'd pushed into her hand, mouth parting to call after her, but she'd already scurried round the corner, a smile visible on her rosy cheeks even from behind. He unfurled the note carefully with his fingers, holding it under a last sliver of light to read the message.

A place, and a name.

Endymion ripped the note in half.

~

'You came,' a voice greeted him.

There he was, sitting in plain view as if he owned the tavern. Endymion tugged his hood further over his face and sat on the seat across the table, eyes wary and never straying from those black, light-flecked eyes.

'Enda,' that voice chatisted softly, a tut slipping through his teeth.

'Make it short. What did you call me here for?'

'Is there something wrong in wanting to catch up with a friend?'

'We're not friends, Fenrys,' Endymion said carefully and politely, voice even.

'You're still so well-mannered.'

'And you aren't.'

Fenrys chuckled and sighed, bracing a large hand onto the wooden table, the other behind his head as he sunk back in his seat. 'My condolences for creating such an impression.'

Enda flicked his gaze round the tavern. None of the occupants payed the slightest attention to the two males dressed in the clothes of riches and who held themselves like royals. 'What did you do to them?' he asked in a low voice.

Fenrys blinked lazily at Endymion.

Endymion was a very kind-hearted, patient sort of individual, yet even his own temper ran short before this male. 'Fenrys. Why did you call me here?'

'In ten days, Aelin Galathynius intends to leave here.'

'What has Aelin Galathynius to do with you?'

'Let me remind you, Enda,' Fenrys purred, 'that what I do is none of your business. You will listen, and you will obey without question.'

Endymion glared at Fenrys, but the golden haired did nothing but begin to draw slow circles on the table surface with a clawed index.

Endymion waited.

Fenrys certainly knew how to make one infuriated.

Endymion went and ordered a tankard of ale.

When he came back, he found Fenrys watching him with a sort of amused look in his eyes. Endymion raised the cup to his lips, tipping the lot down his throat.

'Listen carefully, Whitethorn. If you want to live a good future, prepare your ships to set sail in ten days. You will take Aelin Galathynius to Terrasen and aid her, for if you do not, it will ultimately be your downfall, and the rest of Erilea's.'

Then Fenrys left, and Endymion sat and thought, nothing in his mind but the alcohol, the younger male's words and his burning eyes of coal.

~

It had been late spring when they'd first landed in Wendlyn - and now it was midsummer, meaning in Terrasen, it would be midwinter. This war would be fought in the bleakest of seasons.

Enya, Sam and Aelin sat before their fireplace, numb and unspeaking. Only the crackling of the fire broke the silence when the wind drifted in every now and then.

The door swung open, but this time no one jumped. 'Time for training,' Connall said. Enya and Sam got up to leave, and Connall beckoned Aelin, too. 'You're with us today.'

She should have felt excited, but there was a heaviness hanging in her gut. She looked at Connall. 'Can I stay?'

He didn't hesitate before nodding.

Sam looked at her. 'Do you-'

'Sam,' Enya called gently from the doorway.

He glanced at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes, and followed Enya.

When the door closed, she let out a breath and slumped into the chair. Her heart- her heart- she had accepted the bond with Fenrys, and now there was no going back. The bond stretched thin as she felt Fenrys venture further and further away-

'Celaena?'

She was startled, nearly falling out of her seat.

'Here. I brought your weapons. Rowan told me that you could have them back.' Sam set down a large-ish pile of blades, and Aelin murmured a thank you.

Moments passed. She half-heartedly picked up a stiletto.

Then suddenly she dropped the weapon, and it clattered to the floor with a double clang. 'I can't-' She buried her face in her palms. 'I can't, I can't, I can't,' she sobbed. She slammed a fist into her thigh, and roared hoarsely into her hand. Unwittingly, her hand sought for a blade, and she had almost clenched her fingers round the metal when Sam's hand was around her wrist.

'Celaena,' he said, voice hard, a voice she hadn't heard before.

'Go away,' she whispered.

'Celaena.'

'DON'T CALL ME THAT!' she exploded. 'I can't do this,' she cried fiercely. 'I absolutely, rutting cannot do this. Why did the gods choose me? Why me, a girl who has been taught to be an assassin? Why not someone else, someone with experience and bravery and a good heart-'

'You think you aren't brave? You think you don't have a good heart?'

She said nothing and stared mutely into the distance.

'The girl who freed two hundred slaves from Skull's Bay, and made sure another was never sold there? The girl who did that, then allowed herself to be punished? The girl who taught a healer how to survive and then gave her riches so that she could fulfill her dreams? The girl who let the arrow fire a minute late to give her friend one last chance?' Sam gripped her hand harder. 'The queen who did not allow herself to be broken in Endovier?'

Aelin leaned onto him, and he ran his fingers through her hair gently. 'If you still think you're cowardly and unkind, think again. All these people's lives were made better because of you. If you lead Terrasen into battle, people will follow you. When you win, the world, perhaps, will become a better place.'

She rose to her feet unsteadily and wrapped her arms round Sam tightly, unwilling to let go.

'Stay by my side, Sam,' she whispered into his shoulder.

And they stood there like that until she let out a small yawn and her eyelids fluttered, and Sam carried her to their bed.

She needed more rest than ever for the coming days.