Page 79 of Kingdom of Ash

An army. A great army lay camped there.

“She’s summoned most of her forces,” Gavriel breathed, wind whipping his hair across his face.

Rowan counted the campfires covering the dark terrain like a blanket of stars. He’d never seen such a Fae host assembled. The ones he and the cadre had led into war didn’t come close.

Aelin could be anywhere in that force. In the camps, or in the city itself.

They’d have to be clever. Cunning. And if Maeve had not fallen for their diversion …

“She brought an army to keep us out?” Elide asked.

Lorcan glanced at Rowan, his dark eyes full of warning. “Or to keep Aelin in.”

Rowan surveyed the encamped army. What did those dwelling inDoranelle, who rarely saw any sort of forces beyond the warriors who sometimes stalked through their city, make of the host?

“We have allies in the city,” Gavriel offered. “We could try to make contact. Learn where Maeve is, what the host rallied here to do. If there’s been any mention of Aelin.”

Rowan’s uncle, Ellys, the head of their House, had remained when Maeve’s armada had sailed. A hard male, a smart male, but a loyal one. He’d trained Enda in his image, to be a sharp-minded courtier. But he’d also trained Rowan when he could, giving him some of his first lessons in swordplay. He’d grown up in his uncle’s household, and it had been the only home he’d known until he’d found that mountain. But would Ellys’s loyalty skew toward Maeve or to their own bloodline, especially in the wake of the House of Whitethorn’s betrayal in Eyllwe?

His uncle might already be dead. Maeve might have punished him on behalf of all the cousins whom Rowan had begged to aid them. Or Ellys, seeking to reenter Maeve’s good graces after their betrayal, might sell them out before they could find Aelin.

And as for the others, the few allies they might have …

“Maeve is capable of worming her way into a person’s mind,” Rowan said. “She likely knows who our allies are and might have already compromised them.” He braced a hand on Goldryn’s hilt, the warm metal a comforting touch. “We don’t risk it.”

Lorcan grunted his agreement.

Elide said, “Maeve doesn’t know me—or barely does. No one here would recognize me, especially if I can … adjust my appearance. Like I did with spreading those lies about the Valg prince. I could try to get into the city tomorrow and see if there’s anything to learn.”

“No.”

Lorcan’s reply was a knife in the dark.

Elide said to him, cool and unfazed, “You’re not my commander. You’re not in my court.”

She turned to Rowan. Buthewas.

He outranked her. Rowan tried not to recoil. Aelin had laid this upon him.

Lorcan hissed, “She doesn’t know the city layout, doesn’t know how to handle the guards—”

“Then we teach her,” Gavriel cut in. “Tonight. We teach her what we know.”

Lorcan bared his teeth. “If Maeve remains in Doranelle, she will sniff her out.”

“She won’t,” Elide said.

“She found you on that beach,” Lorcan snapped.

Elide lifted her chin. “I am going into that city tomorrow.”

“And what are you going to do? Ask if Aelin Galathynius has been strutting about town? Ask if Maeve’s available for high tea?” Lorcan’s snarl ripped through the air.

Elide didn’t back down for a heartbeat. “I’m going to ask after Cairn.”

They all stilled. Rowan wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard her correctly.

Elide steadily surveyed them. “Surely a young, mortal woman is allowed to inquire about a Fae male who jilted her.”

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