Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass #5) - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,9

nine, weaving tendrils of water above her village’s lone fountain for the entertainment and delight of a gaggle of children.

Stone-faced, scarred adults had looked on from the shadows, but none had interfered for better or worse. Aedion’s messengers had already confirmed that most people now knew the King of Adarlan had wielded his dark powers to repress magic these last ten years. But even so, he doubted those who had suffered its loss, then the extermination of their kind, would comfortably reveal their powers anytime soon.

At least until people like his companions, and that girl in the square, showed the world it was safe to do so. That a girl with a gift of water could ensure her village and its farmlands thrived.

Aedion frowned at the darkening sky, idly twirling the Sword of Orynth between his palms. Even before magic had vanished, there had been one kind feared above all others, its bearers pariahs at best, dead at worst. Courts in every land had sought them as spies and assassins for centuries. But his court—

A delighted, throaty purr rumbled through their little camp, and Aedion shifted his stare to the subject of his thoughts. Evangeline was kneeling on her sleeping mat, humming to herself as she gently ran the horse’s brush through Lysandra’s fur.

It had taken him days to get used to the ghost leopard form. Years in the Staghorns had drilled the gut-level terror into him. But there was Lysandra, claws retracted, sprawled on her belly as her ward groomed her.

Spy and assassin indeed. A smile tugged on his lips at the pale green eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure. That’d be a fine sight for the lords to see when they arrived.

The shape-shifter had used these weeks of travel to try out new forms: birds, beasts, insects that had a tendency to buzz in his ear or bite him. Rarely—so rarely—had Lysandra taken the human form he’d met her in. Given all that had been done to her and all she’d been forced to do in that human body, Aedion didn’t blame her.

Though she’d have to take human form soon, when she was introduced as a lady in Aelin’s court. He wondered if she’d wear that exquisite face, or find another human skin that suited her.

More than that, he often wondered what it felt like to be able to change bone and skin and color—though he hadn’t asked. Mostly because Lysandra hadn’t been in human form long enough to do so.

Aedion looked to Aelin, seated across the fire with Fleetfoot sprawled in her lap, playing with the hound’s long ears—waiting, as they all were. His cousin, however, was studying the ancient blade—her father’s blade—that Aedion so unceremoniously twirled and tossed from hand to hand, every inch of the metal hilt and cracked bone pommel as familiar to him as his own face. Sorrow flickered in her eyes, as fast as the lightning above, and then vanished.

She’d returned the sword to him upon their departure from Rifthold, choosing to bear Goldryn instead. He’d tried to convince her to keep Terrasen’s sacred blade, but she’d insisted it was better off in his hands, that he deserved the honor more than anyone else, including her.

She’d grown quieter the farther north they’d traveled. Perhaps weeks on the road had sapped her.

After tonight, depending on what the lords reported, he’d try to find her a quiet place to rest for a day or two before they made the last leg of the trek to Orynth.

Aedion uncoiled to his feet, sheathing the sword beside the knife Rowan had gifted him, and stalked to her. Fleetfoot’s feathery tail thumped in greeting as he sat beside his queen.

“You could use a haircut,” she said. Indeed, his hair had grown longer than he usually kept it. “It’s almost the same length as mine.” She frowned. “It makes us look like we coordinated it.”

Aedion snorted, stroking the dog’s head. “So what if we did?”

Aelin shrugged. “If you want to start wearing matching outfits as well, I’m in.”

He grinned. “The Bane would never let me live it down.”

His legion now camped just outside of Orynth, where he’d ordered them to shore up the city’s defenses and wait. Wait to kill and die for her.

And with the money Aelin had schemed and butchered to claim from her former master this spring, they could buy themselves an army to follow behind the Bane. Perhaps mercenaries, too.

The spark in Aelin’s eyes died a bit as if she, too, considered all that commanding his legion