Page 411 of Kingdom of Ash

Aelin waved him off. “Need I remind you that despite winning this war, we are no longer flush with gold?”

Rowan slid his arm around her shoulders. “Need I remind you that since you beheaded Maeve, I am a Prince of Doranelle once again, withaccess to my assets and estates? And that with Maeve outed as an imposter, half of her wealth goes to you … and the other to the Whitethorns?”

Aelin blinked at him slowly. The others grinned. Even Lorcan.

Rowan kissed her. “A new library and Royal Theater,” he murmured onto her mouth. “Consider them my mating presents to you, Fireheart.”

Aelin pulled back, scanning his face. Read the sincerity and conviction.

And, throwing her arms around him, laughing to the lightening sky, she burst into tears.

It was to be a day for many meetings, Aelin decided as she stood in a near-empty, dusty chamber and smiled at her allies. Her friends.

Ansel of Briarcliff, bruised and scratched, smiled back. “Your shifter was a good liar,” she said. “I’m ashamed I didn’t notice it myself.”

Prince Galan, equally battered, huffed a laugh. “In my defense, I’ve never met you.” He inclined his head to Aelin. “So, hello, cousin.”

Aelin, leaning against the half-decayed desk that served as the lone piece of furniture in the room, smirked at him. “I saw you from a distance—once.”

Galan’s Ashryver eyes sparked. “I’m going to assume it was during your former profession and thank you for not killing me.”

Aelin chuckled, even as Rolfe rolled his eyes. “Yes, Privateer?”

Rolfe waved a tattooed hand, blood still clinging beneath his nails. “I’ll refrain from commenting.”

Aelin smirked. “You’re the Heir to the Mycenian people,” she said. “Petty squabbles are now beneath you.”

Ansel snorted. Rolfe shot her a look.

“Whatdoyou intend to do with them now?” Aelin asked. She supposed the rest of her court should have been here, but when she’d dispatched Evangeline to round up their allies, she’d opted to let them rest. Rowan, at least, had gone to seek out Endymion and Sellene. The latter, it seemed,was about to learn a great deal regarding her own future. The future of Doranelle.

Rolfe shrugged. “We’ll have to decide where to go. Whether to return to Skull’s Bay, or …” His sea-green eyes narrowed.

“Or?” Aelin asked sweetly.

“Or decide if we’d rather rebuild our old home in Ilium.”

“Why not decide yourself?” Ansel asked.

Rolfe waved a tattoed hand. “They offered up their lives to fight in this war. They should be able to choose where they wish to live after it.”

“Wise,” Aelin said, clicking her tongue. Rolfe stiffened, but relaxed upon seeing the warmth in her gaze. But she looked to Ilias, the assassin’s armor dented and scratched. “Did you speak at all this entire war?”

“No,” Ansel answered for him. The Mute Master’s son looked to the young queen. Held her stare.

Aelin blinked at the look that passed between them. No animosity—no fear. She could have sworn Ansel flushed.

Sparing her old friend, Aelin said to them all, “Thank you.”

They faced her again.

She swallowed, and put a hand over her heart. “Thank you for coming when I asked. Thank you on behalf of Terrasen. I am in your debt.”

“We were in your debt,” Ansel countered.

“I wasn’t,” Rolfe muttered.

Aelin flashed him a grin. “We’re going to have fun, you and I.” She surveyed her allies, worn and battle-weary, but still standing. All of them still standing. “I think we’re going to have a great deal of fun.”

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