Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass, #5)

by Sarah J. Maas

She’d done as much as she could to set things in motion to ensure that once she was gone, help would still come. It was the only thing she could give them, her last gift to Terrase...

A soft female laugh slithered through the grass. Aelin knew that laugh. And knew that somehow, perhaps they had not traveled through the mists … But they had been placed here. By whatever forces were at work, whatever gods watching.

To stand before Queen Maeve of the Fae. Elide Lochan on her knees before her—with a Fae warrior’s blade at her throat.

There was a roar of rage that echoed it. Was Aedion—

Another roar, deep and bellowing, cleaved the world.

That roar sounded again as a mighty shape shot down from the heavy clouds. A wyvern. A wyvern with shimmering wings. And behind it, descending upon the Fae fleet with wicked delight, flew twelve others.

Lysandra knew that roar. And then there was Abraxos, plunging from the heavy clouds, twelve other wyverns with riders behind him. Ironteeth witches.

the golden-haired witch closest to Abraxos, her pale-blue wyvern shrieking a war cry.

The other witches and their wyverns unleashed hell upon the Fae, smashing through the converging lines, snapping grappling ropes, buying them a moment’s reprieve. How they knew who to attack, what side to fight for—

The witch was beautiful, a strip of black braided leather across her brow, and she called to none of them in particular, “Where is Manon Blackbeak?”

The witch grinned, revealing white teeth, but iron glinted at her fingertips. “Asterin Blackbeak, at your service.”

“You and your Thirteen save our asses, witch,” Aedion said, “and I’ll tell you anything you damn want.”

But the wyverns were covered in armor—efficient, beautiful armor.

Lysandra wished she had strength left to shift—one last time. To join them in that glorious destruction.

Lysandra found Aedion’s blood-splattered stare. The general-prince smirked in that insolent way of his, sending a thrill wilder than bloodlust through her. “We don’t want the witches to make us look bad, do we?” Lysandra returned his smirk and lunged back into the fray.

He gave Asterin a sharp whistle the next time she passed overhead, rallying her Thirteen again. She whistled back in confirmation. The Thirteen launched after the fleeing armada.

Maeve’s personal battleship, the Nightingale, was nowhere to be seen.

Dorian appeared at the rail of the main deck, gaunt-faced and haggard, no doubt having used the last of his magic to propel a longboat over, and panted, “The coast. Aelin is out by the coast where we sent Elide—they all are.”

I can feel something out there,” Dorian said. “Flame and shadow and death. Like Lorcan and Aelin and someone else. Someone ancient. Powerful.” Rowan braced himself for it, but he still wasn’t ready for the pure terror when Dorian added, “And female.”

Swirling dark robes, a beautiful pale face beneath onyx hair, red lips set in a faint smile … No crown adorned her head, for all who breathed, even the dead who slumbered, would know her for what she was. Dreams and nightmares given form; the dark face of the moon.

Manon had gone still as death at the sight of Elide, her iron nails sliding free.

“Not as impressive as Doranelle, if you ask me, but at least a swamp really reflects your true nature, you know? It’ll be a wonderful new home for you. Definitely worth the cost of coming all this way to conquer it.”

And as if in answer, Lorcan appeared at the edge of the dunes, panting, wild-eyed, sword out. His focus—and horror, Aelin realized—on Elide. On the sentry holding the blade against her white neck.

With her attention elsewhere, Lorcan took up a place at Aelin’s side—as if they were somehow allies in this, would fight back-to-back.

Maeve said to the witch, “I know your face.”

Rhiannon’s face

Aelin’s stomach clenched as that ancient focus shifted to Elide. “Claimed by queen, and witch, and … my Second, it seems.”

“The girl who Lorcan Salvaterre summoned me to save.” That ripple of Lorcan’s power the day Ansel’s fleet had closed in … She’d known it was a summoning. The same way she’d summoned the Valg to Skull’s Bay.

he had summoned Maeve’s armada to take on what he’d believed to be an enemy fleet. To save Elide. Lorcan just said, “I’m sorry.”

“Lady Elide Lochan, daughter of Cal and Marion Lochan. No wonder the witch itches to retrieve you, if her bloodline runs in your veins.” Manon snarled a warning.

“Well, you didn’t drag your ancient carcass all the way here for nothing. So let’s get on with it. What do you want for the girl?” That adder’s smile curled Maeve’s lips again.

This was the queen to whom he’d given his heart? This cold creature who looked at the world with mirthless eyes? Who had killed those soldiers without a blink of hesitation? The queen whom Lorcan had summoned for her. He’d brought Maeve to save her—

He’d betrayed them. Betrayed Aelin for her—

“What should I demand as payment for the girl?” Maeve mused, taking a few steps toward them, graceful as a moonbeam. “Why doesn’t my Second tell me? So busy, Lo...

“Then where is my ring? Where are my keys?” A ring. Elide was willing to bet it was the golden one on her own finger, hidden beneath her other hand as she clenched them before her.

He didn’t look at either Elide or Aelin. Didn’t so much as acknowledge their existence as he went on, “Aelin has two, and probably has a good inkling where Erawan hides the third.”

Maeve’s gaze again drifted down to Elide. The ancient, eternal darkness in it was smothering. “What familiarity you use when you speak his name, Lady of Perranth. What intimacy.”

Aelin’s little snort was her only warning sign. “Don’t you have better things to do than terrorize humans? Release the girl and let’s settle this the fun way.” Flame danced at Aelin’s fingertips.

No. Her magic had been emptied, still hovere...

But Aelin shot a cutting glance over her shoulder at Manon as if to say, Run. Grab Elide the moment Maeve’s guard is down and run.

Did you think my arrival was merely dependent upon Lorcan’s summoning? Who do you think even whispered to Morath you were indeed down here? Of course, the fools didn’t realize that when you had drained yourself on their armies, I’d be waiting. You were already exhausted after putting out the fires I had my armada ignite to tire you on Eyllwe’s coast. It was a convenience that Lorcan gave your precise location and saved me the energy of tracking you down myself.”

To sacrifice her own fleet—or part of it—to gain one prize … This was madness. The queen was utterly insane. “Do something,” Elide hissed at Lorcan, at Manon. “Do something.”

Only now—Maeve had only dared attack Aelin now. Because Aelin at her full strength … Aelin could beat her. But Aelin, nearly depleted of her power …

“Run,” Lorcan said in her ear. “If you wish to live, run, Elide. Shove me off—work around her command. Push me, and run.”

She would not. She’d sooner die than flee like a coward, not when Aelin was going to the mat for all of them, when—

Elide thought the impact of Aelin Galathynius’s knees hitting the sand might have been the most horrible sound she’d ever heard.

There was nothing Elide could do as Aelin screamed. As that dark, ancient power struck her like a hammer over an anvil.

Aelin crawled backward, blood sliding from her right nostril. Dripping on her white shirt.

The Queen of Terrasen panted, fire flickering like dying embers around her.

A low, vicious snarl rippled from nearby, the only warning as a massive wolf leaped through the seagrasses and shifted. Fenrys. A heartbeat later, a mountain lion charged over a dune, beheld the scene, and shifted as well. Gavriel.

Aelin gasped for air, eyes glassy with pain. Eyes that slid to Elide’s. Aelin’s bloody, chapped mouth formed the word again. Run.