tang on his tongue.
He went wild at that, hoisting her hips to angle himself deeper, harder. The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.
“Together, Aelin,” he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.
Release crested within her once more, a shimmering brightness.
And just when it broke, Aelin sank her teeth into Rowan’s neck, claiming him as he’d claimed her.
His blood, powerful and wind-kissed, filled her mouth, her soul, and Rowan roared as release shattered through him, too.
For long minutes, they lay tangled in each other.
Together we’ll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo. Together.
CHAPTER 42
Lorcan was given the last watch of the night, which allowed him to witness the sunrise over the now-distant horizon.
Would he ever see it again—Wendlyn, Doranelle, any of that eastern land?
Perhaps not, considering what they sailed to in the west, and the immortal army Maeve had no doubt set on their heels. Perhaps they were all doomed to limited sunrises.
The others roused, venturing onto the deck to learn what the morning brought. Nothing, he almost told them from where he stood by the prow. Water and sun and a whole lot of nothing.
Fenrys spotted him and bared his teeth. Lorcan gave him a mocking smile.
Yes, that fight would come later. He’d welcome it, the chance to ease the tightness from his bones, to let Fenrys tear into him a bit.
He wouldn’t kill the wolf, though. Fenrys might try to kill him, but Lorcan wouldn’t do it. Not after what Fenrys had endured—what he’d managed to do.
Elide emerged from belowdecks, hair braided and smooth. As if she’d been up before the dawn. She barely looked his way, though he knew she was well aware of his location. Lorcan blocked out the hollow pang in his chest.
But Aelin spied him, and there was more clarity in her face than there’d been these past few days as she stalked for where he stood. More of that swagger in her gait, too.
The sleeves of her white shirt had been rolled to the elbow, her hair braided back. Goldryn and a long knife hung from her belt. Ready for training. Primed for it, judging by the bristling energy that buzzed around her.
Lorcan met her halfway, descending the small stairs.
Whitethorn lingered nearby, also dressed for sparring, the wariness in his eyes telling Lorcan enough: the prince had no idea what this was about.
But the young queen crossed her arms. “Do you plan to sail with us to Terrasen?”
An unnecessary question for dawn, and in the middle of the sea. “Yes.”
“And you plan to join us in this war?”
“I’m certainly not going there to enjoy the weather.”
Amusement glittered in her eyes, though her face remained grim. “Then this is how it’s going to work.”
Lorcan waited for the list of orders and demands, but the queen was only watching him, that amusement fading into something steel-hardened.
“You were Maeve’s second-in-command,” she said, and Elide turned their way. “And now that you aren’t, it leaves you as a powerful Fae male whose allegiances I don’t know or really trust. Not when Maeve’s army is likely on the move toward the continent at this very moment. So I can’t have you in my kingdom, or traveling with us, when you might very well sell information to get back into Maeve’s good graces, can I?”
He opened his mouth, bristling at the haughty tone, but Aelin went on. “So I’ll make you an offer, Lorcan Salvaterre.” She tapped her bare forearm. “Swear the blood oath to me, and I’ll let you roam wherever you wish.”
Fenrys cursed behind them, but Lorcan barely heard it over the roaring in his head.
“And what, exactly,” he managed to say, “do I get out of it?”
Aelin’s eyes slid over her shoulder. To where Elide watched, mouth agape. When the queen met Lorcan’s gaze again, a touch of sympathy had softened the steely arrogance. “You will be allowed into Terrasen. That is what you will get. Where you choose to live within Terrasen’s borders will not be my decision.”
Not her decision, or his. But that of the dark-haired female gawking at them.
“And if I refuse?” Lorcan dared ask.
“Then you will never be allowed to set foot in my kingdom, or to travel further with us—not with the keys in the balance, and Maeve’s army at our backs.” That sympathy remained. “I can’t trust you