Their Fireheart

Chapter Thirty Two

Aelin

The other four males that made up my family were waiting in the living room when Cassian and I emerged from the warehouse below. It was evident from their sharp glares that they had heard every word that was uttered down there. Based on the censure in their eyes, it was clear that not only did they agree with everything Cassian had said, but that they themselves were far from pleased that I had doubted their devotion at all.

I was still reeling from the conversation with my hard-headed mate, so the realization that I hadn't scared any of them away, that I wouldn't have to learn to live without my mates by my side - well, it nearly knocked the air clean from my lungs. It felt far too miraculous for me to wrap my head around, but the truth of it was slowly sinking in, cementing itself in my very bones.

They weren't leaving. They weren't frightened by me. No matter what I did, who I had to become, they would never leave, would never desert me.

I felt tears prick in my eyes, even as they turned murderous eyes my way, no doubt prepared to rip me a new one.

Mercifully, and much to my mate's dismay, they didn't have much time to lay into me before Lysandra came barging into the apartment, chirping with far too much enthusiasm for someone who had been supposedly sobbing only hours before.

Now, they were hovering behind us like wraiths while Lysandra and I strolled towards a quaint, packed little bakery positioned alongside a nicer stretch of the docks. Dressed in our finest, frilliest dresses, we appeared like nothing more than two wealthy women on an afternoon stroll through the city, trailed by two bodyguards each.

Bodyguards who tensed when two gentlemen passed us, boxes of baked goods in hand, and gave us appreciative nods. Refraining from rolling my eyes at their theatrics, I shot the strangers a simpering smile and slipped past them towards the mouth-watering scent of bread and sweets.

Rowan, Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand stayed outside as we entered the crowded shop, leaning against the wooden dock as they watched us through the large glass window of the bakery. They were clothed and hooded in black, wearing two separate coats of arms - both fake, provided by Lysandra's seemingly unending supply of disguises. Somewhere nearby, Nesryn lurked, careful to not be associated with our group.

"That one," I said under my breath as we pushed through the lunch-time crowd, my attention fixed on the most harried-looking woman behind the counter.

I caught her eye, not missing the way she barely spent any time taking me in. She was flustered, hair frizzy and brow damp with sweat.

"What can I get you, miss?" She asked quickly.

Polite, but already sizing up the customers clustered behind Lysandra. Too busy to really note the clientele, wholly focused on getting us out of the way as quickly as possible.

"I want to talk to Nelly," I said with saccharine sweetness. "She was to make me a bramble berry pie."

The woman narrowed her eyes, and I flashed a winning smile, unblinking beneath her suspicion. Sighing, she turned and hustled through the wooden door to her right, momentarily revealing a glimpse at the chaos of the bakery behind it. She returned a moment later, giving me a She'll be out in a minute look before going right to another customer.

Fine by me. I had no desire to provide her with more of an opportunity to study us.

Lysandra and I stepped to the side, content to await the arrival of this Nelly.

"So Clarisse had no idea?" I asked under my breath, watching the other patrons closely.

"None," Lysandra hummed. "And any tears she shed were for her own losses. You should have seen her raging when we got into the carriage, with my debts cleared and only a few more coins to her name."