Chasing Tides | Throne of Glass

VI

quis

He whirled on her, practically yelling before she even had the chance to speak. 'You've got some explaining to do. And you better have damn good reasons. You tried to kill me and then ran off to gods know where, with no notice, and still no truth – who the goddamn hell are you?'

Dahlia shrugged, the movement lined with the same predatory ease and grace of the Fae male who had entered the room with Celaena. He realised then, who might have had a hand in training her. 'I've told you the truth,' she said. 'I was raised in Aureum. I was trained by the Fae. I'm demi-Fae myself.'

'By who?' he pressed. 'Who raised you – who trained you?' He suddenly wished that he'd stayed in Varese. With Dahlia's appearance, he'd stumbled across yet another unpredictable factor. He'd had his suspicions before, but with nothing to help him confirm, he could only dismiss it. But her being here now... quite frankly, it just gave him a headache.

She raised a brow smoothly, archly. He still hasn't gotten used to it. Celaena's expressions, and some new ones, too, on a face that was not her own and yet identical to her own. 'Is it that hard for you to work out?' she asked flatly. He stared. 'My aunt brought me up, alongside her Cadre. Who did you just see? Why do you think I'm here? How do you think I've been allowed here?'

It all clicked into place in that single moment. Twines of unravelled, tangled thread suddenly pulled so taut that he could see the beginning and end with perfect clarity. And yet, he could only protest weakly, 'Aelin Galathynius has no twin.'

Dahlia shrugged once more. 'Well, she does now. The history books lie. Either you accept it, or you don't, and you confront Maeve about it.'

He almost balked at even the mere thought of that. He was human in a castle full of beings that were, for the majority, most definitely not human. He did not belong here as much as the others did and seeing Maeve had only served to solidify the rest of his days here as a living nightmare. Maeve's name was one that had been woven into epics and songs – she was not someone who could just be seen by the likes of him. One glance, or rather lack of, from the Fae queen to him – had been enough to tell him everything. He was insignificant – as much so as an ant to a man. His place was not here.

'Maeve will not hurt you,' Dahlia reassured him unexpectedly. 'You are no threat to her, and she has no time for you.' He tried not to give her a scathing look. That definitely made him feel tons better about himself. 'She's leaving for Aureum tonight.'

'Do you know if Celaena will accompany her?' He read the look in her eyes, and uncharacteristically foul-tempered, snapped, 'Oh, don't give me that look. I didn't ask to be dragged into this.'

'Celaena will stay,' she said slowly, 'and so will you. Until she is done with her training.' She fixed him with a sharp stare all of a sudden, those turquoise eyes burning. 'I suggest you mind your words, too, when you're here. You're at Mistward whether you like it or not, and you only have yourself to blame for following your lover all soppy and doe-eyed into a place where she has a purpose and a motive and you do not. I'm telling you this so you don't make the same mistake in the future.'

He hated the heat that rose to his cheeks as she spoke, because everything she'd said had been true, each sentence a blow to the gut from its stark honesty. How had he allowed himself to become so much more reckless these days? Shifting the conversation in painful awareness of this uncomfortable sensation, he asked, 'Then... what shall I call you? I suppose there won't be any secrets left between you and Celaena when you meet, so I might as well call you by your true name.'