Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass, #5)

by Sarah J. Maas

Even weeks later, her dreams were plagued by those final moments in Morath: the guards who had tried to drag her to be implanted with Valg offspring, the Wing Leader’s complete massacre of them, and Kaltain Rompier’s final act—carving the strange, dark stone from where it had been sewn into her arm and ordering Elide to take it to Celaena Sardothien.

Wondered whether she carried a gift or a curse northward. And if this Celaena Sardothien would know what to do with it. Tell her that you can open any door, if you have the key, Kaltain had said.

expert skill. She prayed for the boom and roar of the pursuing wyvern to hit the walls, but none came. But Manon

“I love you,” Rowan breathed onto her skin, and flicked his tongue over the spot where his canines had scratched. “I’d walk into the burning heart of hell itself to find you.”

The one with three faces studied her. “Mala’s bloodline shall bleed again to forge the Lock anew. And you will lead them, a lamb to slaughter, to pay the price of this choice you made to waste its power here, for this petty battle. You will show this future scion how to forge a new Lock with Mala’s gifts, how to then use it to wield the keys and send us home. Our original bargain still holds: we will take the Dark King with us. Tear him apart in our own world, where he will be but dust and memory. When we are gone—you will show this scion how to seal the gate behind us, the Lock holding it intact eternally. By yielding every last drop of their life force. As your father was prepared to do when the time was right.”

“Mala’s bloodline shall bleed again to forge the Lock anew. And you will lead them, a lamb to slaughter, to pay the price of this choice you made to waste its power here, for

this petty battle. You will show this future scion how to forge a new Lock with Mala’s gifts, how to then use it to wield the keys and send us home. Our original bargain still holds: we will take the Dark King with us. Tear him apart in our own world, where he will be but dust and memory. When we are gone—you will show this scion how to seal the gate behind us, the Lock holding it intact eternally. By ...

“Tell Brannon of the Wildfire what occurred here; tell him the price his bloodline shall one day pay. Tell him to ready for it.”

the isolation of your power. But there were those who knew you for what you were, what you could offer. Your parents, their court, your great-uncle … and Aedion. Aedion knew you were the Queen Who Was Promised without knowing what it meant, without knowing anything about you, or me, or what I did to spare my own people.” The words hit her like stones. “The Queen Who Was Promised,” Aelin said. “But not to the world. To the gods—to the keys.” To pay the price.

“Mala’s blood must be spent—your power must be spent. Every drop, of magic, of blood. You are the cost—to make a new Lock, and seal the keys into the gate. To make the Wyrdgate whole.” Aelin said softly, “I know.” She had known for some time now.

But I sent you to Wendlyn for the healing. And so you would … find him. The one who had been waiting so long for you.” Aelin’s heart cracked. “Rowan.” Elena nodded. “He was a voice in the void, a secret, silent dreamer. And so were his companions. But the Fae Prince, he was …” Aelin reined in her sob. “I know. I’ve known for a long time.” “I wanted you to know that joy, too,” Elena whispered. “However briefly.” “I did,” Aelin managed to say. “Thank

you.”

“The witch mirror’s power is fading; it will not hold you here for much longer. Please—let me show you what must be done. How to end it. You won’t be able to see me after, but … I will be with you. Until the very end, every step of the way, I will be with you.” Manon only put a hand on her sword as Aelin swallowed and said, “Show me, then.” So Elena did. And when she was done, Aelin was silent. Manon was pacing, snarling softly. But Aelin did not fight it as Elena leaned in to kiss her brow, where that damning mark had been her whole life. A bit of chattel, branded for the slaughterhouse. Brannon’s mark. The mark of the bastard-born … the Nameless.

“What a powerhouse you two would be—you and Prince Rowan. And any offspring of that union …” A vicious smirk. “You and Rowan could rule this continent if you wished. But your children … your children would be powerful enough to rule an empire that could sweep the

world.”

“That’s what you said to Rowan after you met him, wasn’t it?” Maeve’s faint smile lingered. “I’d pushed and pushed your mother to bring you to me, so you could meet him, so I could have you at last when Rowan felt the bond, but she refused. And we know how well that turned out for her. And during those ten years afterward, I knew you were alive. Somewhere. But when you came to me … when you and your mate looked at each other with only hate in your eyes … I’ll admit I did not anticipate it. That I had broken Rowan Whitethorn so thoroughly that he did not recognize his own mate—that you were so broken by your own pain you didn’t notice, either. And when the signs appeared, the carranam bond washed away any suspicion on his part that you might be his. But not you. How long has it been, Aelin, since you realized he was your mate?”

“And tell Rowan,” Aelin said, fighting her own sob, “that I’m sorry I lied. But tell him it was all borrowed time anyway. Even before today, I knew it was all just borrowed time, but I still wish we’d had more of it.” She fought past her trembling mouth. “Tell him he has to fight. He must save Terrasen, and remember the vows he made to me. And tell him … tell him thank you—for walking that dark path with me back to the light.”

“Where is Aelin.” What had he done, what had he done— Pain sliced Lorcan’s neck, warm blood dribbled down his throat, his chest. Rowan hissed, “Where is my wife?” Lorcan swayed where he knelt. Wife. Wife. “Oh, gods,” Elide sobbed as she overheard, the words carrying the sound of Lorcan’s own fractured heart. “Oh, gods …”

What that woman had done … Aelin had known. That Lorcan had betrayed her and summoned Maeve here. That she had been living on borrowed time. And she had married Whitethorn … so Terrasen could have a king. Perhaps had been spurred into action because she knew Lorcan had already betrayed her, that Maeve was coming … And Lorcan had not helped her. Whitethorn’s wife. His mate.

She’d tried to tell him. Right before the ilken converged. Tried to tell him she’d vomited her guts up on the ship that day not because she was pregnant but because she’d realized she was going to die. That the cost of sealing the gate, forging a new Lock to do so, was her life. Her immortal life.

So Rowan nodded to Dorian. But the man bowed his head—not the gesture of a friend to a friend. But of one king to another. Consort, he wanted to say. He was just her consort. Even if she’d married him so he could have the legal right to save Terrasen and rebuild it. To command the armies she’d given everything to gather for them.

fluttering heart of an ember. Unleashing a cry that set the world trembling, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, Consort of the Queen of Terrasen, began the hunt to find his wife.