Chapter Seventeen

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Rowan swiped a dirty hand across his forehead, sweat dripping down his nose. The sun was starting to set, and snowflakes drifted down from the gloomy sky. He had been working hard at rebuilding this library all day, barely taking a break. But using his magic and physical strength was taking a toll on him.

Finished for the day, he nodded goodbye to the other workers and shifted into his hawk form. The wind a cool blessing on his wings, he flew towards the main castle. Diving towards the front steps, he shifted back just as Aedion appeared before him, looking unusually worried. "Have you seen Aelin? I haven't seen her all day."

Rowan frowned, dusting his hands on his pants. "I saw her this morning. She was taking Fleetfoot for a walk. I haven't seen her since."

Aedion shook his head. "It's probably nothing. Perhaps she just wanted to be alone."

Rowan reached down their mating bond. Fireheart? Are you there?

No response.

Shaking off his suspicion that something had gone wrong, he replied, "yeah. I'm sure you're right."

~

She could barely breathe through the thick haze of smoke.

It clouded her lungs, her throat, sending her to her knees as she choked. As around her, ashes and embers swirled, trapping her in a grey sphere. She was alone.

She hadn't meant to cause all this destruction. She had only meant to escape; not destroy half of the mansion. But all of her bottled up rage just poured out of her like a waterfall; she couldn't control it.

She staggered to her feet, fanning her hand in front of her face to try and clear the air. Through the fog, she managed to make out the vague shapes of Feyre and Rhys, still behind their magic shield. Her Fae senses helped her to spot their shocked faces.

"You're Fae," Feyre breathed, her eyes wide. "But... not."

Aelin opened her mouth to reply, when something hit her so hard she almost fell to her knees.

She had seen them before.

When she had forged the lock, she had fallen through different universes, different dimensions. She had been falling too fast, and when she had soared across a mountain scenery with a star-speckled sky, it had been Rhysand who had slowed her fall.

But Feyre had been pregnant. So... How is this happening?

"You," she whispered. "But.. you were-how-"

She was able to get her sentence out before something hit her in the back of her head, causing spots to dance across her vision. She whirled around to face Cassian, who held a heavy brick in his hand. A small speckle of her blood decorated the rough surface.

She had him disarmed and unconscious within a few swift, well placed punches. Mor, Azriel and the small woman came charging out of the fog, wielding knives and magic, but she took them all down easily.

She stared at the pile of unconscious bodies surrounding her. It felt so good to let her anger out. 

Feyre and Rhysand appeared in front and behind her in a swirl of darkness, but Aelin ducked and rolled out of the way, causing them to crash into each other. She smirked at them, embers swirling her hair. In her hands, daggers of flame appeared. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, bowing at the waist. "I'll be on my way. Remember to love fierce, laugh lots, and drink more. Now do go rot in hell."

And without further ado, disappeared in a burst of fire.

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