Heir of Obsidian (A Throne of Glass Fanfic)

24 - Pretty Little Lies

Bryn Whitethorn-Galathynius was living her best life. She hadn't seen her brother - her annoying, indolent, lazy brother - in almost three weeks. Which was incredibly odd, given that he always seemed to be finding a way to get caught up in everybody else's damn business.

She idly swirled the length of her spaghetti around her fork, glancing up at her mother through long, blonde eyelashes. Aelin simply hummed, flicking through her thick novel as afternoon light coursed through the dining room's broad windows.

"Mother," she inquired, neatly placing her fork on her full plate. "Benji's camping for a while isn't he?"

Aelin's humming continued, but she slowly closed her novel's red cover - 101 Ways to Disembowel a Zucchini - so that she could directly face her daughter. Her turquoise eyes sparkled as she cheerfully replied, "Yes, I don't know when he'll be back."

Bryn sighed, nodding her head in content. "Oh well, I guess it's good that he'll have a chance to cool off. I'd hate for him to still be sad about," Bryn lowered her voice, "The Thirteen incident."

Aelin, returning to her novel, gave a small nod before agreeing, "Yes, of course."

Bryn returned to her meal, carefully shielding her face so that her mother would not see the wide grin hidden beneath her golden locks. This was perfect - with Benji still away camping maybe she'd convince her mother to take her to Eyllwe next summer. Her mother had been reserving the trip for Benji, but she was sure that she could convince her to allow her to accompany instead, especially with Benji's continued prolonged absences. After all, she was the heir, it's not like Benji -

Bryn's thoughts shattered as the great dining room doors slammed open. She started as her disheveled father stormed into the spacious room, her fork clattering out of her hand. Rowan's chalky hair was wind swept, his chest heaving, as if he'd travelled a great distance over an incredibly short span of time.

"Aelin," he gasped, his burly hands gripping the doorframe. Bryn grimaced. If he didn't cool it, he was going to damage the finely carved wood.

"Hmm." Aelin settled back lazily into her chair, deftly flicking to the next page of her novel.

"There's been a Valg attack - a Valg attack, Aelin. In Meah." Bryn stiffened in her chair. Valg? There were Valg roaming their lands? Maybe her brother did have point after all.

At the sound of 'Valg attack,' Aelin's ears pricked, and she slowly leafed her page. "Did you hear about how it went? If anybody" - she waved her hand in the air, searching for the right word - "defeated these Valg."

Rowan stiffened, confused as to why his mate was so calm. Bryn couldn't help wonder, also, how her mother was taking this situation so well. It was the Valg! Surely Benji couldn't have been right. She'd heard the legends, seen the paintings, and had no desire to come anywhere near the demon spawn. She tried to adopt a similar expression to her mother, to show that she was taking the situation in stride, but... Damnit. She could only tuck her shaking hands in the folds of her skirt so that her parents would not discover her fear.

"Apparently, there were two," Rowan began hesitantly, carefully watching Aelin's expression. "The man I spoke to said that a group of travellers - warriors - dispatched them."

Aelin nodded, her long fingers reaching for her novel where she'd placed it on the great oak table. "Good then!" she replied, opening to where she'd leafed her page. "If these" - she smirked - "warriors have taken care of things, I don't see why there's anything to worry about."

"Aelin!" Rowan said, his voice raised. "After these warriors left, a rip opened. Right into the Valg Lands."

Aelin froze. "What?"

"The slums of Meah have been completely destroyed. The rip let in several more Valg before it stabilised. There's no more coming through now, but... It's only a matter of time before the wrong person finds it, and unleashes hell upon our world again."

For a moment, Aelin was left speechless. She raised her eyes to Rowan, confusion swimming in their vibrant depths. She looked down to her lap and muttered under her breath, "But this doesn't make sense. There were only meant to be two."

Rowan turned towards his lover, his wife, his mate, and did not bother to hide the ice from his voice as he softly asked, "Aelin Whitethorn-Galathynius, what do you mean there was only meant to be two?"

Aelin opened her mouth to respond, before slowly closing it. Bryn shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. She'd seen her mother wear many masks, but the expression on her face right now... Bryn never thought she'd live to see the day when her mother was... lost. But if there was one thing she knew about Aelin, it was that she would never, never admit that she was wrong. That she'd made a mistake.

With wary conviction, Aelin met Rowan's steely eyes. "It was his time, Rowan. You've been coddling him for far too long." Rowan watched his wife carefully, his face expressionless as Aelin continued. "I will not raise my son to be a spoiled, pompous brat. He needed this."

Rowan's eyes widened as he finally realised what his wife was telling him - what she'd hid from him, for the past three weeks. "Our son is not camping, is he?"

"I stand by my decisions."

Rowan shook his head, pacing back towards the room's entrance. Aelin simply watched as he paused, and turned his lithe body towards her, a question emerging. "You're seriously telling me that you sent our only son to battle Valg?" Aelin's silence confirmed his accusations, and Rowan's sculpted face hardened as he prowled towards the room's wide doors. "They might've handled two Valg, Aelin. But they will stand nothing against the army which will surely tear its way through that rip."

"Where are you going?" Aelin inquired softly, her steely eyes a challenge as she met Rowan's gaze.

"To bring back our son, before he gets himself and his friends killed."