Their Fireheart

Chapter Ten

Aelin

Two more days had passed since the night at the Pits, and Aedion - ever the dramatic bastard - was going out of his mind being stuck in my apartment. He'd caught me returning covered in filth that night after I'd discovered the wrydhound, and seemed to be insistent on driving me insane alongside him.

Even though we both knew he wasn't fit for anything more strenuous than our nightly walks along the roof, it did nothing to stop his grumbling. And damn if he didn't complain endlessly.

Let's just say he was not a fan of my continued trips to the sewers and other nighttime adventures. Today, when I returned from my little confrontation with the Cadre I found him wearing a hole in my carpet, pacing restlessly.

Despite the fact that my plan to lure Lorcan into fighting the Valg guards and wyrdhound had gone flawlessly, my cousin was irate. He'd begun berating me as soon as I walked in the door 'reeking of the sewers', as he put it. Even my - admittedly vague - explanation of the night's activities hadn't calmed him down, setting him off on a tirade of epic proportions.

Not that I didn't understand his concern - the King was growing increasingly volatile the longer we evaded him. Not even his own people were safe from his wrath. Hell, Chaol had delivered the latest round of bad news just the other night.

- - -

The moon shimmered on the tiles beneath us as I helped Aedion walk around the warehouse rooftop. Despite my arm coiled around his waist to support him as we walked, it was clearly an effort for him to keep upright.

Still, the stubborn bastard was determined to regain his strength - even at his own detriment.

I was thankful for the cool night breeze that wrapped around us, chilling the sweat coating my cousin's neck - even if it was laced with the plume of the smoke on the horizon. I'd just managed to convince him to sit down and take a break when the door opened, and Chaol appeared.

I strode towards the captain, something about his demeanor immediately demanding my predatory focus. "What is it?" I asked sharply.

Chaol kicked the door shut behind him, eyes glittering with condemnation. "The Shadow Market is gone."

I stopped short. The Shadow Market - the heart of the city's underworld. Legend claims it was built on the bones of the god of truth so it would keep vendors and would-be thieves honest. You could find anything there, contraband, illicit drugs, spices, clothes - even a certain reactive powder that may or may not have been used in a recent daring rescue.

Either way, it was vital to the livelihood of those the elite deemed 'lesser', to the underworld of the city. Ice coated my veins at the thought of it being gone, or more than likely - destroyed.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

Chaol's face was drawn tight. "The Valg soldiers. They went to the market and sealed the exits with everyone inside. Then they burnt it. Garrisons of soldiers waited in the sewers to cut down any who tried to escape."

Fuck - the smoke in the air, that plume on the horizon, that's what it was from. Bile rose in my throat as I realized the king had to have lost his mind entirely, so lost to the demonic Valg, to his fury and rage, that he had stopped caring about his public perception at all. His own nation was not even safe from him now.

I knew exactly why the king had done this, but Chaol still added tersely, "Apparently, it got out that the rebels who freed him," Chaol sent a cutting glare towards my cousin, "used supplies that could only be bought at the Shadow Market."