Their Fireheart

Chapter Fourteen

Aelin

As much as I would have preferred to stay hidden in my bedroom with Azriel for the rest of the day, I knew I needed to face the rest of my mates and finally fill them in on at least the broad strokes of what I'd been up to, and what my plans were. Especially with Chaol apparently coming in a few short hours.

And as much potential as he had to be helpful - I was not looking forward to it. Not even because of our own issues, but because I knew there was no way I'd be lucky enough for our past ... entanglement, to remain undiscovered.

My mates' reaction to that was only one of many that I was not looking forward to.

It only took a murmured word to Aedion, and he gladly disappeared to take up watch on the roof. I had a feeling that no matter how abrasive an act he put on, he really didn't want to be involved in any dispute between me and my mates.

The rest of my mates, who'd miraculously made themselves scarce while Azriel had presented me with his gift - those gorgeous, flawless blades that had damn close to tears - had quickly materialized at my emergence from the bedroom, and had gathered in the small living room. They were now settled amongst my furniture, looking shockingly comfortable in a space not built for males of their stature.

I side-eyed my couch, half-convinced it was going to collapse under the weight of three fully grown fae males.

Shifting my gaze back to the males in question, I licked my suddenly dry lips. "I'm sure you have questions," I began.

Cassian snorted indelicately, but the rest of them remained silent, eager. Rhys's violet eyes burned into me with an intensity that was so contradictory to the arrogant, careless mask that he presented to the world. Azriel was steady, my anchor in the storm - as always. And Rowan's emerald eyes were damn-near accusing.

"Are you going to finally explain why you decided to come back to this shithole of a city," Rowan asked with raised eyebrow.

He would cut straight to the chase.

I huffed out a silent laugh, but couldn't help but grimace as I began to explain. "I didn't tell you the full truth of what Amren and I learned from the Book of Breathings. To reforge our realms and permanently banish the Valg, I need the Cauldron," I indicated the amulet resting between my breasts, not missing the sharp inhales as they realized what, exactly, lay around my neck. "But I also need its twin source of power, Erilea's reflection of its magic - the three Wyrdkeys."

Rhysand's violet eyes narrowed in contemplation. "What are the Wyrdkeys, how do they match the Cauldron's power?"

I shrugged. "No one really knows. After everything we learned in Prythian, I rather suspect they were fragments chipped by the Cauldron itself, their magic bastardized by the Valg to split the realm in the first place, to control the gates to and from Erilea."

The more I'd considered it, the more sure I was. The dark aura their magic emitted was the same vein as the Cauldron's, but somehow oiler, as though it'd been twisted, tainted.

I continued, "Nevertheless, I need them. I'd discovered months ago that the King of Adarlan has two of them, although where he keeps them I do not know. But the real reason I returned ..."

I loosed a heavy breath, trying to ignore the memories flashing through my mind - violent spears of lightning, rumbling echoes of thunder, the shock of icy cold water, the reek of copper and iron.

"... is because I know where the third Wyrdkey is." 

Rowan's brow furrowed, "How?"

I fiddled with the terrible, ancient power hanging from a delicate chain around my throat. "In this form, the Cauldron's signature was ... familiar. It didn't take long to figure out why."