Their Fireheart

Chapter Four

Aelin

The next morning, I was tired and irritable from a fitful night's sleep. The bed had been too large, too cold without at least one other body beside mine. I'd grown too used to the comfort of being surrounded by my mates. Despite the short time we'd had, I'd come to rely on their strength, on their love.

But now I was alone.

Chaol's words had more than confirmed that I could rely on no one other than myself.

And that was fine, really. It was no more than what I'd expected when I came back here. But even if Chaol refused to help me, I would not add another name to my list of beloved dead. I refused.

So, the first thing I did when I awoke was send Arobynn a letter, formally accepting his offer.

One Valg demon - in exchange for his assistance in the rescue and safe return of Aedion Ashryver, the Wolf of the North.

I'm sure my acceptance would make Arobynn comfortable, confident in his ability to manipulate me. Exactly how I wanted him.

Hunger had forced me out of the apartment, hunting down breakfast in the chilly, gray morning before grabbing enough food to have a semblance of groceries available in my kitchen.

An hour later, I returned to the warehouse - only to find a cloaked woman waiting under the narrow awning of the entrance. Through the misty veil of rain, I could see that she carried a large, flat box at her side.

An unmarked hansom cab for hire loitered nearby, the driver watching out for his passenger carefully. Even in the rain, I could tell her deep, rich gray cloak was well-made. The fabric was clean and heavy enough to suggest she didn't suffer a shortage of funds.

The heavy hood concealed the stranger's face in shadow, but the faint glimpse of ivory skin and dark hair sent a tingle of familiarity up my spine. There were only a handful of people in the city who knew where I lived, and any one of them sending a messenger did not bode well for me.

Casually lifting a dagger from my side, I cocked my head at the woman as I approached. "I'd start explaining, if I were you," I drawled.

The woman stepped forward, back into the rain - but slid slightly to the side as she did, stepping in front of the carriage. It was then that I noted the small form of a child waiting inside. Cowering.

The woman said, "I came to warn you," and pulled back her hood enough to reveal her face.

Large, up-tilted green eyes, sensuous lips, sharp cheekbones and a pert nose combined to create a rare, astonishing allure that caused men to lose all common sense.

My mind immediately flashed back to another staggering beauty who was very nearly sold like chattel while - while the one in front of me had been.

"Lysandra," I murmured.

She braced herself at my recognition, and I didn't blame her. We had grown up alongside each other, us and Sam. Except while Sam and I had trained beneath the King of Assassins, Lysandra had trained under the sharp eye of Clarisse, Arobynn's good friend and successful brothel owner.

There had been a time I'd hated her. Even though I'd been trained for the killing fields and Lysandra for the bedrooms, we'd somehow fashioned ourselves as rivals for Arobynn's favor. A foolish notion borne of the insecurity of youth and the precariousness of our positions.

But I only saw that now.

Inclining my head towards the box in her hands, I asked, "I assume this is for me?"

She nodded fearfully, and I could see her hands shaking where they held the package. I stepped forward, encroaching on her space, sliding my blade back into its sheath.