Chapter Thirteen

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Aelin sat back on her heels, studying her handiwork. Ripping off a piece of her tunic and wrapping it around her clotted wound on her forearm, she wiped away a stray dribble of blood on the floor. In a perfect arch were about seven Wyrdmarks, each different from the next. Her mouth began to form words in the Old Language; a tongue she had forced herself to learn fluently in her free time. Her chanting grew louder and louder, until her voice filled the cell to the brim.

The marks began to glow a beautiful, vivid green, bathing the padded room in a ghostly light. She chanted even louder, the tricky words slipping over her mouth in a rush. The centre of the arc began to glow, blinding her-

She took a deep breath, getting to her feet, getting ready to jump...

...When a large hand wrapped around her waist and tugged her back.

~

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rhysand shouted, shoving her to her knees. She struggled against his strength, but he was still too strong.

"Let me go!" She shouted, writhing in his grip as the portal's glow began to dim... And then died out completely.

She gaped at the useless arch of symbols. Anger exploded in her like her very soul had been lit on fire. "How dare you?" She screamed, kicking and biting and struggling. But he did not let her go. He turned them into smoke and shadow, and they reappeared in a neat foyer. The Fae assembled jumped to their feet as she was forced onto her face. She spat at Rhysand's feet.

"What did you do?" The red-dressed woman said, rushing to her feet and dropping by Aelin's side. Aelin snapped her teeth at her, utterly humiliated.

"She was attempting magic," Rhysand said, staring at her. She threw daggers at him with her eyes.

The other Fae gawked at her, shock written plain and clear across their faces. "I don't know what you're talking about," Aelin sniffed, wriggling to her knees.

Rhysand arched a sceptical brow, crossing his arms. "Okay, humour me. What were you doing, then?"

Aelin smiled at him with unnerving innocence. "Painting a picture."

Rhysand glared at her, while Cassian sniggered. "That's it," he sneered, and stalked closer to her and slapped his hands on the sides of her head.

"What are you-" Aelin hissed when the world dissolved into black.

~

She was back in that coffin.

That crudely decorated mask was strapped over her face, and she couldn't move her arms or legs. She thrashed, punching the iron top with all her strength. Tears leaked from her under her eyes as she screamed and raged and trashed.

No no no no no

A soft, evil laugh echoed outside the coffin. The lid slowly drew back, creaking with agonising apprehension. Maeve grinned at Aelin, her onyx eyes empty. "Hello, darling niece," she purred, running a taloned finger down the cheek of Aelin's mask. "It's good to see you again."

Cairn stood at Aelin's feet, running a blood-soaked whip through his fingers. Fenrys, in wolf form, sat uselessly in the corner, his white coat dull. She felt like she was going to pass out.

Everything was exactly as she remembered it. Except...

Rhysand leant against a wall behind Cairn, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied her curiously. Her eyes widened, and then they were transported to her coronation. She stood on the altar in that magnificent green dress, the Crown of Terrasen upon her head, with Rowan at her side. She stumbled as they flashed to her first day at Endovier, her shirt off, blood dribbling down her back. Rhysand stood silent across from her, watching her memories play out with a neutral expression. She squeezed her eyes shut, banging her fists on her head as she was being choked and held by the Valg, as she danced with Dorian, as she laughed with Lysandra and bickered with Aedion. She relived all of those memories, good and bad, until finally, finally, blissful darkness swept back in.

She gasped as she reappeared in the foyer, collapsing onto her side. "You..." she sneered, tears trailing down her cheeks as she stared up at Rhysand. "You son of a bitch!"

She went to jump to her feet, but found herself held by invisible bonds to the floor. "So," Rhysand said, crouching beside her and gazing into her eyes. "It appeared you haven't been entirely truthful, Celaena. Or should I say Aelin?"

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