Kingdom of Ash

And then came the words, uttered in the Old Language. Sacred and ancient, spoken flawlessly by Darrow, who had crowned Orlon himself all those decades ago.
Do you offer your life, your body, your soul to the service of Terrasen?
She answered in the Old Language, as she had also practiced with Rowan last night until her tongue turned leaden. I offer all that I am and all that I have to Terrasen.
Then speak your vows.
Aelin’s heart raced, and she knew Rowan could hear it, but she bowed her head and said, I, Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, swear upon my immortal soul to guard, to nurture, and to honor Terrasen from this day until my very last.
Then so it shall be, Darrow responded, and reached out a hand.

Still Aelin lifted her sword.
Flames ran down the blade.
One flame against the darkness gathered.
One flame to light the night.
Aelin raised her shield, and flames encircled it, too.
Burning bright, burning undaunted. A vision of old, reborn once more.
The cry went down the castle battlements, through the city, along the walls.
The queen had come home at last.
The queen had come to hold the gate.

A horn cleaved through the air, through the battle, through the world.
Aedion went still.
Whirled toward the direction of that horn, to the south. Beyond Morath’s teeming ranks. Beyond the sea of blackness, to the foothills that bordered the edge of Theralis’s sprawling plain.
Again, that horn blared, a roar of defiance.
“That’s no horn of Morath,” Lysandra breathed.
And then they appeared. Along the edge of the foothills. A line of golden-armored warriors, foot soldiers and cavalry alike. More and more and more, a great line spreading across the crest of the final hill.
Filling the skies, stretching into the horizon, flew mighty, armored birds with riders. Ruks.
And before them all, sword raised to the sky as that horn blew one last time, the ruby in the blade’s pommel smoldering like a small sun …
Before them all, riding on the Lord of the North, was Aelin.

She passed through a world where a great city had been built along the curve of a river, the buildings impossibly tall and glimmering with lights.
Passed through a world of rain and green and wind.
Roaring, she tried to slow.
She passed through a world of oceans with no land to be seen.
Close. Home was so close she could nearly smell the pine and snow. If she missed it, if she passed by it—
She passed through a world of snowcapped mountains under shining stars. Passed over one of those mountains, where a winged male stood beside a heavily pregnant female, gazing at those very stars. Fae.
They were Fae, but this was not her world.
She flung out a hand, as if she might signal them, as if they might somehow help her when she was nothing but an invisible speck of power—
The winged male, beautiful beyond reason, snapped his head toward her as she arced across his starry sky.
He lifted a hand, as if in greeting.
A blast of dark power, like a gentle summer night, slammed into her.
Not to attack—but to slow her down.
A wall, a shield, that she tore and plunged through.
But it slowed her. That winged male’s power slowed her, just enough.
Aelin vanished from his world without a whisper.

passed through a world where a great city had been built along the curve of a river, the buildings impossibly tall and glimmering with lights.
Passed through a world of rain and green and wind.
Roaring, she tried to slow.
She passed through a world of oceans with no land to be seen.
Close. Home was so close she could nearly smell the pine and snow. If she missed it, if she passed by it—
She passed through a world of snowcapped mountains under shining stars. Passed over one of those mountains, where a winged male stood beside a heavily pregnant female, gazing at those very stars. Fae.

“We have five minutes,” Manon snapped. She whirled to the Thirteen. “We have trained for this. To break apart enemy ranks. We can get through them. Take apart that tower.”
But they all looked at one another. Like they’d had some unspoken conversation and agreement.
The Thirteen stalked toward their own mounts. Sorrel clasped Manon’s shoulder as she passed, then climbed onto her wyvern’s back. Leaving Asterin before Manon.
Her Second, her cousin, her friend, smiled, eyes bright as stars. “Live, Manon.”
Manon blinked.
Asterin smiled wider, kissed Manon’s brow, and whispered again, “Live.”
Manon didn’t see the blow coming.
The punch to her gut, so hard and precise that it knocked the wind from her. Sent her to her knees.
She was struggling to get a breath down, to get up, when Asterin reached Narene and mounted the blue mare, gathering the reins. “Bring our people home, Manon.”

Barefoot before him, Elide peered into his granite-hewn face. Shrugged out of her cloak, then jacket. Lorcan’s throat bobbed.
She knew he could hear her heart as it began racing. Could likely scent every emotion on her. But she said, “I need help. Getting into the bath.”
“Do you, now.” His voice was near-guttural.
Elide bit her lip, her breasts becoming heavy, tingling. “I might slip.”
His eyes drifted down her body, but he made no move. “A dangerous time, bath time.”

So Manon said, looking them each in the eye, “I would rather fly with you than with ten thousand Ironteeth at my side.” She smiled slightly. “Tomorrow, we will show them why.”
Her coven grinned, wicked and defiant, and touched two fingers to their brows in deference.
Manon returned the gesture, bowing her head as she did. “We are the Thirteen,” she said. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”

Manon only looked to Aedion, that smile lingering. “Long ago, the Crochans fought beside Terrasen, to honor the great debt we owed the Fae King Brannon for granting us a homeland. For centuries, we were your closest allies and friends.” That crown of stars blazed bright upon her head. “We heard your call for aid.” Lysandra began weeping. “And we have come to answer it.”

“We have no master,” Manon Blackbeak said, and it was indeed a queen’s voice that she spoke with, her golden eyes bright. “We come to honor a friend.”
There was no sign of Dorian amongst the Thirteen, but Aedion was reeling enough that he didn’t have the words to ask.
“We came,” Manon said, loud enough that all on the city walls could hear, “to honor a promise made to Aelin Galathynius. To fight for what she promised us.”
Darrow said quietly, “And what was that?”
Manon smiled then. “A better world.”