Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass, #5)

by Sarah J. Maas

“Because destroying a symbol can break the spirits of men as much as bloodshed.”

Even if this thing between them … even if he knew it was not mere lust, or even just love. This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world.

What would Manon do before such a creature? Manon, she remembered, came equipped with claws and fangs of her own. But a small voice whispered in her ear, So do you. Use what you have. There were other weapons than those made of iron and steel.

“I have known many kings in my life, Dorian Havilliard. And it was a rare man indeed who asked for help when he needed it, who would put aside pride.”

“The first time you met Aelin, did you know …?” A snort. “No. Gods, no. We wanted to kill each other.” The amusement flickered. “She was … in a very dark place. We both were. But we led each other out of it. Found a way—together.”

Fire could destroy—but also cleanse.

And Manon understood in that moment that there were forces greater than obedience, and discipline, and brutality. Understood that she had not been born soulless; she had not been born without a heart. For there were both, begging her not to swing that blade.

Then Manon Blackbeak whirled and brought Wind-Cleaver down upon her grandmother.

“Let’s make it a final stand worthy of song.”

“To the very end, Abraxos,”

Men would see what they wanted to: a pretty young woman who did not bristle at their attention, who spoke kindly and warmly. Someone trustworthy, someone sweet yet unremarkable.

“Men will not fear the threat of a brother. I would still be unclaimed—still be open for … invitations. I have seen how little respect men have for anything they think they are entitled to. So you are my husband,” she hissed, “until I say otherwise.”

There was no such thing as a better world—no such thing as a happy end. Because there were no endings.

So yes—my Fireheart is one flame in the sea of darkness. But she is willing to fight, Fenrys. She is willing to take on Erawan, take on Maeve and the gods themselves, if it means peace can be had.”

“You will find, Rolfe, that one does not deal with Celaena Sardothien. One survives her.”

“Allow me to introduce to you, Captain Rolfe, the incomparable, the beautiful, and the absolutely and all-around flawless Queen of Terrasen.”

“The world,” Aelin said, “will be saved and remade by the dreamers, Rolfe.”

Love had broken a perfect killing tool. Lorcan wondered if it would take him centuries more to stop being so pissed about it.

Aelin tried not to flinch at the truth of that word—love. That day … when Rowan had looked into her eyes as he drank her blood … she’d started to realize what it was. That the feeling that passed between them, so powerful there was no language to describe it … It was not mere friendship, but something born of and strengthened by it.

“Even if Maeve had kept me enslaved, I would have fought her. Every day, every hour, every breath.” He kissed her softly and said onto her lips, “I would have fought for the rest of my life to find a way to return to you again. I knew it the moment you emerged from the Valg’s darkness and smiled at me through your flames.”

They could burn the entire world to ashes with it. He was hers and she was his, and they had found each other across centuries of bloodshed and loss, across oceans and kingdoms and war.

“Even when you’re in another kingdom, Aelin, your fire is still in my blood, my mouth.”

She was not a rebel princess, shattering enemy castles and killing kings. She was a force of nature. She was a calamity and a commander of immortal warriors of legend. And if those allies did not join with her … she wanted them to think of today, of what she would do, and wonder if they might find her on their shores, in their harbors, one day, too. They had not come ten years ago. She wanted them to know she had not forgotten it.

“The useless sentries in the watchtower are now all half in love with you,” he lied. “One said he wanted to marry you.” A low snarl. He yielded a foot but held eye contact with her as he grinned. “But you know what I told them? I said that they didn’t stand a chance in hell.” Aedion lowered his voice, holding her pained, exhausted stare. “Because I am going to marry you,” he promised her. “One day. I am going to marry you. I’ll be generous and let you pick when, even if it’s ten years from now. Or twenty. But one day, you are going to be my wife.”

“I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”

“I see you. I see every part of you. And I am not afraid.”

“It’s war. War is sanctioned murder, no matter what side you’re on.”

“Snap out of it,” Manon said. Aedion loosed a warning growl. Aelin slowly lifted her eyes to the witch, and Dorian braced himself. “So you miscalculated,” Manon said. “So they tracked you. Don’t get distracted with the minor defeats. This is war. Cities will be lost, people slaughtered. And if I were you, I would be more concerned about why they sent so few of the ilken.”

“I made a promise to protect you. I will not break it, Elide.” She made to pull away, but he gripped her a little harder, keeping her eyes on him. “I will always find you,” he swore to her. Her throat bobbed. Lorcan whispered, “I promise.”

“You and me,” she promised him. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”

“I think love should make you happy,” Elide said, remembering her mother and father. How often they had smiled and laughed, how they had gazed at each other. “It should make you into the best possible version of yourself.”

“Remember who you are. Every step of the way down, and every step of the way back. Remember who you are. And that you’re mine.”

The Queen of Flame and Shadow, the Heir of Fire, Aelin of the Wildfire, Fireheart …

They both turned, giving Rowan Whitethorn horrifyingly innocent smiles. The Fae Prince, to his credit, only winced after they looked away again.

“And will you follow me?” Manon asked them quietly. “To do what needs to be done before we can return to the Wastes?” Aelin Galathynius had not beseeched Elena for another fate. She had only asked for one thing, one request of the ancient queen: Will you come with me? For the same reason Manon had now asked them.

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.