Their Fireheart

Chapter Four

Rowan

I soared over the trees, riding and shaping the winds to push me onward, faster and faster. Their roar not even registering over the bellowing in my head. I took in the passing world out of instinct rather than interest, all my thoughts turning inward - towards that gods-damned conversation, those callous, harrowing words I'd said to Aelin.

Aelin. Aelin. Aelin.

The gods knew I was not a kind male, that I did not curb my words, my disdain. In the grand scheme of things, what I'd said to Aelin didn't even come close to the worst of it - to her especially.

Yet, when I'd said it, my heart had completely stopped - frozen and deadened in my chest. There had been an overwhelming silence in my mind, but that hadn't been the worst of it.

No, the worst part had been the look in her eyes when my words hit their mark. That fire that had been burning brighter and brighter with every day was instantly snuffed out, like an ember had been extinguished forever.

It was that look, that blankness, that had my magic and warrior's instincts honing into a lethal combination - howling to rip something, anything apart. I'd shifted then and there, soaring out the nearest window and into the night.

Maeve had lied. She had lied when she'd insinuated the princess was just a spoiled brat, hiding away from the world like a coward.

I knew she lied, and I'd known for some time now. She'd been a slave. She'd been tortured, tormented, abused - and she was still here, still fighting.

By the gods, she was stronger than anyone should ever have to be.

And I could never tell her.

I could never tell her how much I admired her, how much I respected her - how much I fucking ached for her.

Because she was not my queen, would never be my queen, would never be mine.

Maeve was my queen, and I was her bloodsworn, as foolish as that decision now seemed. If Maeve commanded me to betray her, to spill her secrets, I would - I would be forced to.

So no matter how it shredded apart my soul, I had to push her away, had to keep my distance. To keep her safe. In the only way I could.

But the image of that bright, beautiful light flickering out in her eyes haunted me, agony piercing deep as it replayed across my mind over and over and over again. I would find no peace, not until I rectified it. So, finally, I veered back to the north and reined my magic to guide my flight to the fortress.

I'd figure out a way to bring the fire back to her eyes if it was the last gods-damned thing I did.

+++

I knocked on the door to our shared room gently, her scent teasing me from the hallway. It taunted me constantly, not helped by our living arrangement. I'd known when I insisted on sharing with her that it would torment me, that it hadn't been a good idea.

But, after Beltane, after seeing that slab of ruined flesh - I couldn't bear for her to be parted from me, even for the night. Having her close, where I could protect her, where I could breathe in her scent, soothing that feral edge of my instincts that only she seemed to elicit.

When no response came, I knocked harder, my heart beating in my chest - blood rushing through my veins. She could be out for a walk, she could be in the kitchens, she could be anywhere. Yet none of my rationalizations calmed my racing heart.

Finally, I tore open the door - only to have the air ripped from my lungs.

She was gone.

Aelin was gone.

Strange markings littered the floor - markings written in her blood. My head roared in denial, thoughts foggy and hard to grasp.

I could tell she was here, that she made those markings - recently - but then her scent just ... vanishes.

My breath comes in stuttering gasps, and all I can focus on is that she's gone. She's gone and I need to get her back.

I couldn't give less of a damn if that's what Maeve would want at this point. All I know is that I need to get her back. I need Aelin back.

Descending into the killing calm, I tore apart the room - desperate for any hint of where she could be, where she went, but there's nothing. Nothing.

There's nothing.

Not even a whisper of her scent telling me where to go, where to start.

I fall to my knees, a feral roar of rage and grief ripping free of my throat. I'm trembling where I kneel, my carefully honed centuries of control wrecked, torn apart by the absence of this female. As if something within me knows that wherever she'd gone - it's somewhere I can't reach.

A heat-licked wind appears from nowhere, caressing my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shimmering figure appear, but I can't concentrate, can't even turn to look - not with Aelin gone.

A gentle, otherworldly presence grazes my mind, a soft whisper brushing against my thoughts. And then -

It speaks. A symphony in its own right, ethereal, silken and all knowing.

For whom do you mourn, Prince Whitethorn?

Aelin. Aelin. Aelin.

My mind is a jumbled mess, barely able to focus on the answers demanded of me.

Do you wish to be reunited with the Firebringer?

Yes, yes, yes.

I'd do anything, give anything - just bring Aelin back to me.

To be reunited with your mate?

The roaring in my head, the bellowing thoughts - all of it grinds to a sudden halt, silence ringing in my ears. I can't comprehend, can't form a coherent thought, except -

But, Lyria ...

A facade, an intricately crafted web of carefully pulled strings.

I shake and tremble, unable to fully confront the fact that Lyria had never been my mate, not at this moment. No matter what that means, I do know one thing -

Without Aelin I am nothing. I am no one. I don't even have to think twice before I'm desperately nodding my head.

Yes. Anything. Bring me my FireHeart. Please.

A word of caution, Prince, you will not be alone in your quest for her heart ... good luck.

My lips tear apart in a snarl at the thought of another male anywhere near Aelin, near my mate. But before I can so much as protest, the markings on the floor of the room begin to glow green.

And then I'm being sucked in, falling through endless space.

Despite the heart-stopping sensation, I don't miss it when that thread of Maeve's control - when the blood oath - fades away into nothing.

And I'm set free.