Queen of Shadows (Throne of Glass, #4)

by Sarah J. Maas

and so Abraxos could watch the stars, as he liked to do.

Abraxos sucked in a great breath, tucked his wings in tight, and fell off the side of the post. He liked to do that—just tumble off as though he’d been struck dead. Her wyvern, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humor.

There was nothing calculated, nothing cold, when Aelin put a hand over her own heart. “I will miss going to hear him conduct the Stygian Suite every autumn. I will spend the rest of my life knowing that I may never again hear finer music, never again experience a shred of what I felt sitting in that theater while he conducted.”

She was a whirling cloud of death, a queen of shadows, and these men were already carrion.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Aelin.

He couldn’t stop the tears leaking down his face, even as he rasped, “Remind me never to get on your bad side.” A smile tugged at her lips, and her eyes—their eyes—sparkled. “Hello, Aedion.”

“It was worth it,” he said, his smile fading. “You were worth it. All these years, all the waiting. You’re worth it.” He’d known the moment she had looked up at him as she stood before his execution block, defiant and wicked and wild. “I think that’s the healing tonic talking,” she said, but her throat bobbed as she wiped at her eyes.

“Whatever you had to do to survive, whatever you did from spite or rage or selfishness … I don’t give a damn. You’re here—and you’re perfect. You always were, and you always will be.”

She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that. She flung her arms around him, careful of his injuries, and squeezed him as tightly as she dared. He wrapped an arm around her, the other bracing them, and buried his face in her neck.

“I missed you,” she whispered onto him, breathing in his scent—that male warrior’s scent she was just learning, remembering. “Every day, I missed you.” Her skin grew dam...

Expressing his admiration would be the easy part. But when it came to thanking him for what he’d done for Aelin this spring, or what, exactly, Rowan expected as a member of their court—if the Fae Prince expected to be offered the blood oath, then … It was an effort to keep from tightening his grip on Aelin.

Aelin hissed, “Need I remind you, Captain, that you went to Endovier and did not blink at the slaves, at the mass graves? Need I remind you that I was starved and chained, and you let Duke Perrington force me to the ground at Dorian’s feet while you did nothing? And now you have the nerve to accuse me of not caring, when many of the people in this city have profited off the blood and misery of the very people you ignored?”

Chaol deserved this, he needs to get off his high horse, how dare he.

At least he couldn’t hate himself any more than he already did.

“But you’re not hurt,” he said softly. “You’re safe?”

Aelin clicked her tongue at Rowan. “Stop doing that alpha-male nonsense. Once was enough.”

But the prince’s mouth quirked into a smile, as if saying to Aedion, You think you can take me, cub?

She let out a rough laugh, close enough that it warmed his face.

But Rowan smiled a bit. “I’m glad she found a female friend.” Aedion marveled for a heartbeat at the softness in the warrior’s face.

Aedion braced his arms on the table. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you.” Lysandra kissed the air between them. “Hello, General. Good to see you’re looking well.”

She rubbed at her brows with her thumb and forefinger, and when she squared her shoulders—those silk-clad shoulders that bore a weight he’d do anything to relieve—she lifted her chin. “There’s a grave I need to visit.”

Bless...

With a gentleness that cracked her heart, he set it on the headstone beside her own pebbles.

Rowan moved deeper into the entry hall, every step laced with power and death, coming to a stop at her side. “You can call me Rowan. That’s all you need to know.” He cocked his head to the side, a predator assessing prey. “Thank you for the oil,” he added. “My skin was a little dry.” Arobynn blinked—as much surprise as he’d show.

Seventeen-year-old Rowan wouldn’t have known what to do with you. He could barely speak to females outside his family.

This is adorble... I love learning things about Rowan.

Rowan shook his head subtly, his eyes dancing with a light that she’d only recently come to glimpse—and cherish.

But there was a gentleness to his grip, a care reserved only for those he cherished and protected.

Rowan stood with his queen in the rain, breathing in her scent, and let her steal his warmth for as long as she needed.

Rowan turned his head to look at her, rain dripping off his silver hair. His features softened a bit, the harsh lines becoming more inviting—vulnerable, even.

“That’s the problem. Yes, you can do most things on your own. That doesn’t mean you have to.”

Even with the world going to hell around them, just hearing her say that, standing here beside her—it was a dream.

His Fireheart, shut in the dark.

He’d almost demanded to know what her plans were for the other innocents in the castle, but … It had been nice. To have one afternoon with no fighting, with no one hating him. To feel like he was part of their unit.

Aelin put a hand on her heart. “For all that you’re risking—thank you.”

The raw emotion there made her bite her lip. Never—never did he let her see those things. “I failed you. I swore to protect you, and I failed tonight.”

She blinked back the burning in her eyes as he reached between their bodies and took her hand, guiding it up to lay against his tattooed cheek.

Evangeline buried her face in his tattooed chest, and Rowan murmured wordless sounds of comfort.

They alighted on a little plateau covered in purple and orange wildflowers, its grasses hissing in the wind. Abraxos was practically grunting with joy, and Manon, her exhaustion as heavy as the red cloak she wore, didn’t bother to reprimand him.

“Aedion,” Rowan said, and the general paused in the doorway. “Thank you.” “Anytime, brother.” He walked out.

“How can I take away somebody who means the world to someone else? Even if she’s my enemy.”

“You deserve to be happy,” he said. And meant it. She deserved the joy he so often glimpsed on her face when Rowan was near—deserved the wicked laughter she shared with Aedion, the comfort and teasing with Lysandra. She deserved happiness, perhaps more than anyone.

“We do not look back, Chaol. It helps no one and nothing to look back. We can only go on.” There she was, that queen looking out at him, a hint of the ruler she was becoming. And it knocked the breath out of him, because it made him feel so strangely young—when she now seemed so old. “What if we go on,” he said, “only to more pain and despair? What if we go on, only to find a horrible end waiting for us?” Aelin looked northward, as if she could see all the way to Terrasen. “Then it is not the end.”

WHAT A QUEEN

She said softly, “You make me want to live, Rowan. Not survive; not exist. Live.”

Ashryver eyes met her own, and she touched the face that was the other side of her fair coin. “For Terrasen,” she said to him. “For our family.” “For Marion.” “For us.” Slowly, Aedion drew his blade and knelt, his head bowed as he lifted the Sword of Orynth. “Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.” She did not have room in her heart for tears, would not allow or yield to them.

Then she smiled with every last shred of courage, of desperation, of hope for the glimmer of that glorious future. “Let’s go rattle the stars.”

She was a Blackbeak; she was no one’s slave. No one’s prize horse to breed. Neither was Elide.

It did not seem like a weakness to fight for those who could not defend themselves. Even if they weren’t true witches. Even if they meant nothing to her.

“Hope,” Manon said quietly. Elide lowered her hands and found the witch smiling at her. Barely a tilt to her lips, but—a smile, soft and lovely.

and the sounds of the Thirteen laughing flitted past. Manon looked toward them, that faint smile returning to her mouth.

She bowed to the Wing Leader. And to her surprise, Manon bowed back.

Manon lifted her brows, and her Second grinned. Manon shook her head and grinned back.