Kingdom of Ash

Chaol kept swinging his sword. His wife lay within the keep behind him. He would not fail her.

They opened at last, and the roar from the gathered crowds was loud enough to rattle the stars.

As one, they walked out. Into the cheering city.

Into the streets, where people danced and sang, where they wept and clasped their hands to their hearts at the sight of the parade of waving, smiling rulers and warriors and heroes who had saved their kingdom, their lands. At the sight of the newly crowned queen, joy lighting her eyes.

A new world.

A better world.

She held open her arms, and Lorcan’s breath heaved out of him as he pulled her against him.

“I hear,” he said onto her hair, “that you’re to thank for Erawan’s destruction.”

Elide withdrew from his embrace, leading him from that room of sadness and candlelight. “Yrene is,” she said, walking until she found a quiet spot near a bank of windows overlooking the celebrating city. “I just came up with the idea.”

“Without the idea, we’d be filling the bellies of Erawan’s beasts.”

Elide rolled her eyes, despite all that had happened, all that lay before them. “It was a group effort, then.” She bit her lip. “Perranth—have you heard anything from Perranth?”

“A ruk rider arrived a few hours ago. It is the same there as it is here: with Erawan’s demise, the soldiers holding the city either collapsed or fled. Its people have reclaimed control, but those who were possessed will need healers. A group of them will be flown over tomorrow to begin.”

Relief threatened to buckle her knees. “Thank Anneith for that. Or Silba, I suppose.”

“They’re both gone. Thank yourself.”

Elide waved him off, but Lorcan kissed her.

When he pulled away, Elide breathed, “What was that for?”

“Ask me to stay,” was all he said.

Her heart began racing. “Stay,” she whispered.

Light, such beautiful light filled his dark eyes. “Ask me to come to Perranth with you.”

Her voice broke, but she managed to say, “Come to Perranth with me.”

Lorcan nodded, as if in answer, and his smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. “Ask me to marry you.”

Elide began crying, even as she laughed. “Will you marry me, Lorcan Salvaterre?”

He swept her up into his arms, raining kisses over her face. As if some final, chained part of him had been freed. “I’ll think about it.”

Elide laughed, smacking his shoulder. And then laughed again, louder.

Lorcan set her down. “What?”

Elide’s mouth bobbed as she tried to stop her laughing. “It’s just … I’m Lady of Perranth. If you marry me, you will take my family name.”

He blinked.

Elide laughed again. “Lord Lorcan Lochan?”

It sounded just as ridiculous coming out.

Lorcan blinked at her, then howled.

She’d never heard such a joyous sound.

He swept her up in his arms again, spinning her. “I’ll use it with pride every damned day for the rest of my life,” he said into her hair, and when he set her down, his smile had vanished. Replaced by an infinite tenderness as he brushed back her hair, hooking it over an ear. “I will marry you, Elide Lochan. And proudly call myself Lord Lorcan Lochan, even when the whole kingdom laughs to hear it.” He kissed her, gently and lovingly. “And when we are wed,” he whispered, “I will bind my life to yours. So we will never know a day apart. Never be alone, ever again.”

Elide covered her face with her hands and sobbed, at the heart he offered, at the immortality he was willing to part with for her. For them.

But Lorcan clasped her wrists, gently prying her hands from her face. His smile was tentative. “If you wo

So she kissed him again. And lingered by his mouth as she whispered, “He was a good man. A brave and noble man. So are you.” She kissed him a third time. “And when this war is over, however it may end, I will still be here, with you. Whether in this life or the next, Aedion.”

He closed his eyes, as if breathing in her words. His chest indeed heaved, his broad shoulders shaking.

Aelin’s hand drifted to her heart and rested there.

It is the strength of this that matters, her mother had said, long ago. Wherever you go, Aelin, no matter how far, this will lead you home.

No matter where she was.

No matter how far.

Even if it took her beyond all known worlds.

Aelin’s fingers curled, palm pressing into the pounding heart beneath. This will lead you home.

Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom.…

Her kingdom. Her home. She would see it again.

Perhaps she’d unconsciously followed his scent, but Lysandra wasn’t at all surprised when she entered the Great Hall and found Aedion before the dying fire.

He stood alone, and she had little doubt he’d been that way for a while now.

He turned before she’d barely made it through the doorway. Watched her every step.

Because I am not in love with our other allies. How the words changed everything and yet nothing. “You should be asleep.”

Aedion gave her a half smile. “So should you.”

Silence fell between them as they stared at each other.

She could have spent all night like that. Had spent many nights like that, in another beast’s skin. Just watching him, taking in the powerful lines of his body, the unbreakable will in his eyes.

“I thought we were going to die today,” she said.

“We were.”

“I’m still angry with you,” she blurted. “But …”

His brows rose, light she had not seen for some time shining from his face. “But?”

She scowled. “But I shall think about what you said to me. That’s all.”

A familiar, wicked grin graced his lips. “You’ll think about it?”

Lysandra lifted her chin, looking down her nose at him as much as she could while he towered over her. “Yes, I will think about it. What I plan to do.”

“About the fact that I am in love with you.”

“Och.” He knew that the swaggering arrogance would knock her off-kilter. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“Is there something else I’m supposed to call it?” He took a single step toward her, letting her decide if she’d allow it. She did.

“Just …” Lysandra pressed her lips together. “Don’t die tomorrow. That’s all I ask.”

“So you can have time to think about what you plan to do with my declaration.”

“Precisely.”

Aedion’s grin turned predatory. “May I ask something of you, then?”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to make requests, but fine.”

That wolfish grin remained as he whispered in her ear, “If I don’t die tomorrow, may I kiss you when the day is done?”

Lysandra’s face heated as she pulled back, yielding a step. She was a trained courtesan, gods above. Highly trained. And yet the simple request reduced her knees to wobbling.

She mastered herself, squaring her shoulders. “If you don’t die tomorrow, Aedion, then we’ll talk. And see what comes of it.”

Aedion’s wolfish grin didn’t so much as falter. “Until tomorrow night, then.”

Hell waited for them tomorrow. Perhaps their doom. But she wouldn’t kiss him, not now. Wouldn’t give that sort of promise or farewell.

So Lysandra walked from the hall, heart racing. “Until tomorrow.”

Aedion just said, “Take Evangeline and go. There is a small tunnel in the bottom level of the castle that leads into the mountains. Take her and go.”

She shook her head. “To what end? Morath will find us all anyway.”

His commanders were sprinting toward him, and for the first time since he’d known them, there was true dread shining in the eyes of the Bane. In Elgan’s eyes.

But Aedion kept his attention fixed on Lysandra. “Please. I am begging you. I am begging you, Lysandra, to go.”

Her chin lifted. “You are not asking our other allies to run.”

“Because I am not in love with our other allies.”

For a heartbeat, she blinked at him.

Then her face crumpled, and Aedion only stared at her, unafraid of the words he’d spoken. Only afraid of the dark mass that swept toward them, staying within formation above that endless army. Afraid of what that legion would do to her, to Evangeline.

“I should have told you,” Aedion said, voice breaking. “Every day after I realized it, all these months. I should have told you every day.”

Lysandra began to cry, and he brushed away her tears.

His commanders reached him, ashen and panting. “Orders, General?”

He didn’t bother to tell them that he wasn’t their general. It wouldn’t matter what the hell he was called in a few hours anyway.

Yet Lysandra remained at his side. Made no move to run.

“Please,” he said to her.

Lysandra only linked her fingers through his in silent answer. And challenge.

“You were right,” she said quietly. “I am afraid.” Manon laid her hand over his. “I am afraid that you will go into Morath and return as something I do not know. Something I shall have to kill.”

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, “You have to let me go.”

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn’t shift her focus from the keep ahead. “No.”

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. “You have to. You have to, Elide. I’m too heavy—and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time.”

“No.” The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

“I love you,” he whispered in Elide’s ear. “I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken.” Her tears flowed past him in the wind. “And I will be with you …” His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. “I will be with you always.”

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide’s cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. “I love you,” he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

“No.”

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

“No,” she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

“Elide—”

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse’s sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, “FLY, FARASHA.” She cracked the reins. “FLY, FLY, FLY!”

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare’s lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.