Their Fireheart

Chapter Forty Six

Aelin

I'd lost track of how long my mates and I had stayed sequestered in my old chambers, losing ourselves in each other. Reaffirming our love and reverence of one another with nothing more than our lips, teeth and tongues. It had been everything we'd all needed, a revelation and reassurance.

We were alive. We were together.

We were safe, all of us.

By the time we'd finally emerged, it'd been nearly two days since the collapse of the glass castle, since Adarlan as I'd known it had become irrevocably and forever changed. It had been another two days before Dorian or Chaol showed any signs of waking.

Four days.

Four days had passed since Dorian had broken free of the demon prince that held him captive, since Chaol had willingly laid his life at the feet of his now-deceased king. They had both survived, had made it through to live a life without the control of a wicked tyrant.

That was good. Better than good, it was all I had hoped for on the dawn of that momentous day. And yet, I couldn't help but hesitate as I stood before an ornate door in the sun-filled hallway of the stone castle. The only castle now.

My mates lingered at the end of the hallway, guarding the only way in or out. Rhysand sent waves of reassurance down the bond, and Azriel's shadow nuzzled into the back of my neck comfortingly. Cassian nodded at me, and even from a distance, I could read the words in Rowan's eyes. We'll be right here. One shout, and we'll be at your side, no matter what.

I rolled my eyes at them, despite the warm glow in my chest. Overbearing, territorial Fae bastards.

I shoved away my selfish reluctance, took a steadying breath, and pushed down on the handle.

He was standing by the window overlooking the wrecked gardens where servants were struggling to repair the catastrophic damage he'd caused, his narrow shoulders caved in as though to protect his too-thin frame.

"Hello Dorian," I breathed.

He turned from the window as the door shut behind me, his face wan and lifeless. He didn't say a word, watching me with hollow sapphire eyes.

I knew that emptiness too well, and my heart ached to see it reflected in my normally joyous friend.

Cautiously, I approached the little sitting area near where he stood. "How are you feeling?"

A foolish, shallow question - one we both knew the answer to. But I had to try to get him talking, to figure out what he was thinking. To see if he'd scream and yell, curse my very existence and the day he'd pulled me from the death sentence of Endovier.

But he didn't.

In fact, all he managed to say was, "Fine."

The word was as empty as the man in front of me, and sorrow washed over me for my friend. For the weight he now carried.

I slumped into one of the low chairs on the pretty, ornate rug, and attempted to cajole something, anything, out of the once vivacious Crown Prince.

"I'm told you haven't left this room since you awoke. You wouldn't be hiding in here, would you?" I asked with a teasing smirk.

His expression didn't even twitch.

"Wasn't I placed here so your men could keep an eye on me?" he said, remaining by the window. "I wasn't aware that I was allowed to leave."

I barely managed to hide my flinch at his words, even though I knew they weren't meant as an attack. In all actuality, I wouldn't be surprised if he himself thought it might be a good thing; for him to be watched - controlled.