She could only manage a nod, grateful he didn’t push for any other answers. But it wasn’t all right. Not at all.
The carriage, driven by one of Chaol’s men, took them another few blocks, right to the border of the slums, where they got out on a deserted, decrepit street. She trusted Chaol’s men—but only so far. Taking Aedion right to her apartment seemed like asking for trouble.
With Aedion sagging between them, she and Chaol hurried down the next several blocks, taking the long way back to the warehouse to dodge any tail, listening so hard they barely breathed. But then they were at the warehouse, and Aedion managed to stand long enough for Chaol to slide the door open before they rushed inside, into the dark and safety at last.
Chaol took Aelin’s place at Aedion’s side as she lingered by the door. Grunting at the weight, he managed to get her cousin up the stairs. “He’s got an injury along his ribs,” she said as she forced herself to wait—to monitor the warehouse door for any signs of pursuers. “It’s bleeding.” Chaol gave her a confirming nod over his shoulder.
When her cousin and the captain were almost to the top of the stairs, when it became clear no one was about to burst in, she followed them. But pausing had cost her; pausing had let the razor-sharp focus slip, let every thought she’d kept at bay come sweeping in. Every step she took was heavier than the last.
One foot up, then the next, then the next.
By the time she made it to the second floor, Chaol had taken Aedion into the guest bedroom. The sound of running water gurgled out to greet her.
Aelin left the front door unlocked for Lysandra, and for a moment, she just stood in her apartment, bracing a hand on the back of the couch, staring at nothing.
When she was certain she could move again, she strode into her bedroom. She was naked before she reached the bathing chamber, and she sat herself right in the cold, dry tub before she turned on the water.
Once she emerged, clean and wearing one of Sam’s old white shirts and a pair of his undershorts, Chaol was waiting for her on the couch. She didn’t dare look at his face—not yet.
Lysandra popped her head in from the guest room. “I’m just finishing cleaning him up. He should be fine, if he doesn’t burst the stitches again. No infection, thank the gods.”
Aelin lifted a limp hand in thanks, also not daring to look into the room behind Lysandra to see the massive figure lying on the bed, a towel around his waist. If Chaol and the courtesan had been introduced, she didn’t particularly care.
There was no good place to have this talk with Chaol, so she just stood in the center of the room and watched as the captain rose from his seat, his shoulders tight.
“What happened?” he demanded.
She swallowed once. “I killed a lot of people today. I’m not in the mood to analyze it.”
“That’s never bothered you before.”
She couldn’t dredge up the energy to even feel the sting of the words. “The next time you decide you don’t trust me, try not to prove it at a time when my life or Aedion’s is on the line.”
A flash of his bronze eyes told her he’d somehow already seen Nesryn. Chaol’s voice was hard and cold as ice as he said, “You tried to kill him. You said you’d try to get him out, to help him, and you tried to kill him.”
The bedroom where Lysandra was working had gone silent.
Aelin let out a low snarl. “You want to know what I did? I gave him one minute. I gave up one minute of my escape to him. Do you understand what can happen in one minute? Because I gave one to Dorian when he attacked Aedion and me today—to capture us. I gave him a minute, in which the fate of my entire kingdom could have changed forever. I chose the son of my enemy.”
He gripped the back of the sofa as though physically restraining himself. “You’re a liar. You’ve always been a liar. And today was no exception. You had a sword over his head.”
“I did,” she spat. “And before Faliq arrived to wreck everything, I was going to do it. I should have done it, as anyone with common sense would have, because Dorian is gone.”
And there was her breaking heart, fracturing at the monster she’d seen living in Dorian’s eyes, the demon that would hunt her and Aedion down, that would stalk her dreams.
“I do not owe you an apology,” she said to Chaol.
“Don’t talk down to me like you’re my queen,” he snapped.
“No, I’m not your queen. But you are going to have to decide soon whom you serve, because the Dorian you knew is gone forever. Adarlan’s future does not depend on him anymore.”
The agony in Chaol’s eyes hit her like a physical blow. And she wished she had mastered herself better when explaining it, but … she needed him to understand the risk she’d taken, and the danger he’d let Arobynn manipulate him into putting her in. He had to know that there was a hard line that she must draw, and that she would hold, to protect her own people.
So she said, “Go to the roof and take the first watch.”
Chaol blinked.
“I’m not your queen, but I’m going to attend to my cousin right now. And since I hope Nesryn is lying low, someone needs to take the watch. Unless you’d like for us all to be caught unawares by the king’s men.”