Their Fireheart

Chapter Forty

Rowan

The days following Aelin's pronouncement passed in a blur, a flurry of planning that left us with hardly a moment to breathe, let alone think. Yet through it all, the haunting threat of the Solstice hung over us, like a ghostly, foreboding fog. The danger and uncertainty we would face on that rapidly-approaching day made it feel not dissimilar to a rising tsunami - life-threatening, and impossible to outpace.

All we could do was brace ourselves for the inevitable devastation.

To my discontent, that meant going along with Aelin's scheme. Because as much as I hated to admit it, it was our best shot.

It was daring, and reckless, but it could be triumphant - as long as it worked. And if it did ... it would be such a damn relief to have magic back. Not just for myself or my brothers, but for Aelin. To know she once again had that additional layer of protection, that she had the brutal, destructive force of her power at her beck and call, to protect her against those who would harm her.

Not that anyone would be getting through us - her court, her mates - in the first place. Not now, but especially not once we had our magic back.

Freeing magic, freeing Dorian, taking out the king - that was what we hoped to achieve, and it was what I focused on. Not the many, many ways the plan could go wrong.

Considering we were using hellfire, things could go very wrong. One small accident, and we would be incinerated so thoroughly that not even ash would remain. Not to mention the threat of the wyrdhounds, or that we'd be testing our uneasy alliance with the cadre. The near-infinite ways everything could go sideways plagued my thoughts.

The fact that Aelin wouldn't be with us, that she would be waltzing right into the stronghold of that monstrous king, without any of her mates at her side ... I tried not to think about it.

I understood why, I even objectively agreed it was the best move. But that didn't mean I had to like it. No - I fucking hated it.

But there was no changing Aelin's mind.

So I threw myself entirely into preparations. Working with Chaol to ready what remained of the rebel soldiers - a pitiful number - over half of them fleeing as more valg soldiers poured in, while even more died at the order of the king. His soldiers were now holding three executions a day, intent on taking out former magic-wielders, rebels and suspected rebel sympathizers. He was preparing for an all-out war.

We did what we could, but far too many were felled at the sharp edge of a valg grunt's ax.

The solstice was our chance, our only hope to deliver a decisive blow against Adarlan, against Erawan. So we pushed onward.

Two days prior to the Solstice, Aedion and I found an abandoned barn outside the city to test the smallest urn of hellfire, while Cassian and Azriel tracked the wyrdhounds to their secret entrance that would lead us right to the clock tower. All four of us were pale and drawn upon our return, faced with the harsh reality of the obstacles we would face.

But we didn't falter. I'd even gone with Aelin to brief my former bloodsworn comrades - and miraculously refrained from slitting Lorcan's throat at the way he sneered at my mate, contrary to the obvious want brimming in his onyx eyes.

If he continued in this manner, he'd be damn lucky to make it out of the sewers alive - whether we were victorious or not.

We'd gone over the plan again and again, cataloged all the ways it could go wrong, meticulously charted every aspect that was vital for success, sharpened our weapons, and done everything thinkable to get ready. But when the sun dawned on the Solstice, bright and hot - I still felt woefully unprepared.