Hellfire

Gavriel

Gavriel didn't know what the hell he was doing, standing outside the door to the dining room like some eavesdropping thief. He had followed his son's scent down to this boat when he caught the queen's scent. The real queen.

"Is she in there?" Elide whispered to him, her voice a Fae's softness. Gavriel nodded. Elide blew out a breath, relief slackening her features. Lorcan shifted behind them, and the tension in Elide's body returned at once. Gavriel almost begged them to sort out their history before someone else did it for them.

The witches had dropped them off on the boats before flying off, the King of Adarlan in tow. To go flush out the hidden Crochan witches, to bring back some fighting hope against the Dark King's Ironteeth legion.

Gavriel stiffened as the woman he didn't recognize began her story, and quieted further as details of death and betrayal rolled off her tongue. Elide and Lorcan did the same, pressing themselves as close to the door as they could without touching one another. Gavriel just listened as a tale of legends unfurled itself in the simple ship dining room.

Finally, the woman finished, and footsteps sounded from inside the room. The door swung open, revealing Rowan standing in the doorway, brows raised, Aelin seated at the head of the table with Aedion behind her, Lysandra (back in her preferred human form), Fenrys, Connall, Vaughn, Rowan's cousin, Prince Endymion Whitethorn, and the woman he didn't know, the teller of the story. He blinked at the wings emerging from her back, giant leathery things that must span at least twelve feet or more when opened. The three Fae males behind Rowan stood immediately, Fenrys's dark-edged smile appearing.

"Look what the kitty cat dragged in," drawled Aelin's voice from the back of the room, her tired eyes lighting at her name for him. He gave her a small smile back, inclining his head. "Welcome back, Your Majesty."