A Court of Fear and Longing

Chapter 33

I wanted to show everyone the poem I found that inspired me to give Aelin wings since I forgot to in that chapter: 

She stretches her arms out,

Stares up at the sky,

Wishing for the wings 

That could teach her to fly. 

She's trapped here on earth,

Feet tied to the ground.

The forces of gravity

Keep pushing her down. 

To the world she's one person, 

to one person the world. 

She wants to be an angel 

But she's only a girl. 

And though she's life's puppet,

she'll break all the strings

but for now she's just dreaming 

of earning her wings. 

-e.h. 

.............

Manon stared at the two. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Asterin hugged the blond next to her. "We found each other a while ago, when I was on a scouting trip for you. I don't know what happened. I just wouldn't ever feel the same way about a man after the hunter died. We've never had a witch like that, so I didn't know what to say." 

It was true. Throughout witch history, none had come out on liking other women. They may have existed, but the Matrons would have snuffed it out, making the population believe it was not safe to be who you were meant to be. 

"That's fine. This is who you were meant to find. If you hadn't, you would be dead right now as well," Manon said calmly. She walked forward and stretched out her hand. Mor took it. "Welcome to the family." 

..........................

The sweat and blood on him quickly freezing, Aedion panted as he leaned against the battered city walls and watched the encamped army pull back for the night. 

A sick sort of joke, a cruel torment, for Morath to halt at each sundown. As if it were some sort of civility, as if the creatures who infested so many of the soldiers below required light. 

He knew why Erawan had ordered it so. To wear them down day by day, to break their spirits rather than let them go out in raging glory. 

It wasn't just the victory or conquest Erawan desired, but their complete surrender. Their begging for it to be over, for him to end them, rule them. 

Aedion ground his teeth as he limped down the battlements, the light quickly fading, the temperature plummeting. 

Five days. 

The weapons they'd estimated running out out in three or four days had lasted until today. Until now. 

Down the wall, one of the Mycenians sent a plume of flame onto the Valg still trying to scale the siege ladder. Where it burned, demons fell away. 

Rolfe stood by the woman wielding the firelance, his face as bloody and sweaty as Aedion's. 

A black-armored hand clamped onto the battlement beside Aedion as he passed, grappling for purchase. 

Barely looking, Aedion slammed out his ancient shield. A yelp and fading cry was his only confirmation that the rogue soldier had gone tumbling to the ground.