Their Fireheart

Chapter Twenty Six

Aelin

This entire evening was a fucked-up version of DeJa'Vu.

The familiar sitting room was still oversized and gaudy - made to entertain parties of up to thirty people - with garish couches and chaises spread throughout. I lounged in an armchair next to the roaring fireplace, with Arobynn across from me.

It could have been one of the many nights we'd spent analyzing my next target - except for the fury that still danced in his eyes.

Well, that and the fact that I could feel my mates and cousin in the hall outside, monitoring every word, every breath. Something I doubted my companion was aware of. I'd known they'd never obey the order to remain in the dining room, and the five of them were stealthier than ghost leopards when they wanted to be.

I was selfishly glad they weren't in here though. This was between me and Arobynn.

Not to mention the fact I hadn't deigned to fill them in on how I suspected this little tête-à-tête would end. Or how I'd prepared for it.

I crossed one leg over the other, revealing my simple black velvet shoes, and a bare leg - not missing the way the silver eyes flicked downward of their own violation.

The silence between us stretched as thin as spider silk, neither of us willing to break first.

"So, all of this was punishment - for a crime I didn't commit," Arobynn said at last.

"I'd rather you not waste my time with lies," I responded with saccharine sweetness.

A mocking grin stretched across his lips. "I never thought I'd see the day where you would insist on the truth, Celaena. Does that new policy expand past these walls?"

I nearly rolled my eyes. "My court knows everything there is to know about me, and my past," I add pointedly.

His eyes widened infinitesimally at my use of the term 'court' before he mastered himself.

"Painting ourselves as the victim, are we?" Arobynn sneered. "I don't recall it taking much encouragement to place those knives in your hands."

Well, he was right about that.

"I am what I am," I shrugged. "I make no excuses nor apologies for it. You saw an opportunity and you took it; I take no issue with that."

The King of Assassins smirked like he won something.

"What I do take issue with," I said, my words laced with deadly venom, "is you assuming I would fall for your scheming and manipulations."

He cocked his head in feigned confusion, and I plowed ahead, hoping to hell and back that I was playing this right.

"You knew who I was, when you found me. You took my family necklace and told me my life was at risk if anyone were to discover who I was." I stared him down, unblinkingly. "You molded me into your very own secret weapon, and when I attempted to break free of your control - well, we both know what you did."

Arobynn scoffed but didn't deny it. Even he knew there was no use in it now.

"And now that I've returned, you're what - trying to set yourself up as my savior and ally? As though I wouldn't think twice about it?" I contended. "Why?"

"You're right that I saw an opportunity. I was young and angry, and I was trapped under the tyranny of that bastard king. So, I gave you the tools you needed to defeat him." He settled back into his plush armchair, raising a single, mocking brow. "That is what you came back to do, isn't it?"