After Empire of Storms

Chapter 4

Lysandra's head ached. The volume of the arguing groups had steadily increased, and Lysandra fought to keep herself from fidgeting. Clothed in Aelin's skin, it was hard enough speaking like her, but posture and facial expressions were another problem. Aelin had grown up in a royal household, been trained by the King of Assassins, and survived Endovier. Balancing her posture to express all aspects of Aelin and Celaena was near-impossible. 

Aelin had taught Lysandra how to control her face, but constantly being observed and scrutinized were making Lysandra paranoid. Lysandra didn't dare to remove Aelin's face, even while bathing. And Aedion was still of no help, refusing to talk to Lysandra unless absolutely necessary. 

On the first day of planning, Galan had pulled Aedion aside and asked what the matter was. Aedion had been staring daggers at Lysandra-Aelin's back, while she spoke of reuniting the continent to fight against Erawan. "Why do you stare at our cousin with hate?" Galan had laughed and clapped Aedion on the shoulder. Aedion had shrugged off Galan's hand and mumbled an incoherent answer under his breath. But Lysandra had seen and overheard their conversation. She knew she could never replace Aelin, and wanted to remind Aedion that she was a temporary placeholder.

A loud commotion drew Lysandra back to the present. Illias and Ansel were fighting again, hands on their weapons and nose to nose. Aelin had told her the story of the summer Celaena had spent training with the Silent Assassins of the Red Desert. Of Ansel's betrayal and escape. 

"Quiet!" Lysandra-Aelin looked up from her chair at the end of the long table to see Aedion slam his fist on the wood. The wood under his hand cracked and Illias and Ansel blanched at the sight. Assassins they might be, but the fae blood running through Aedion's blood outmatched them all. 

Lysandra-Aelin stood up, hands bracing on the wood in front of her. She smiled at the table and opened her mouth to speak. "The smartest move would be to move immediately." Aedion interrupted her before she could speak. Lysandra-Aelin shot a glare at him. Aedion gestured to her to continue talking. 

"I summoned you here to fight a war, not start a new one." Aelin's words rolled off of Lysandra's tongue. "So I suggest that you sit down or get the hell out." The table looked up in annoyance, but not surprise. Aelin had a sharp wit and even sharper tongue, which most of the occupants of the table had been on the receiving end of. For the past hour Lysandra had allowed her allies to discuss among themselves, pitching in her thoughts and plans as needed. 

The group was camped on the beaches of Eyllwe, the only place that could accommodate the army. Lysandra had known of Aelin's plans, but the sheer size of the army had still surprised her. Aelin had raised an army to rattle the stars. The company was currently debating travel to Terrasen. The journey by boat may bring the armada near enemy territory, but the court had agreed to meet at Terrasen, and Lysandra figured it was better to be North and commanding the armies from there, than arriving after everyone else arrived. 

Lysandra was proud that Aelin had entrusted her with such a big responsibility, but longed to change form and ride with the breeze above the camp or scare Aedion out of his wits with the skin of a ghost leopard. Though the brothel had taught Lysandra the perils of not following through, and she was determined to lead the armies until Aelin's return. And she knew that her queen would return. 

* * * * * 

The meeting ended and hour later, with each leader returning to their ships or tents to alert the rest of their army of the plans. The army would sail in three days to Terrasen, allotting time for gathering supplies before the journey. Even with Rowan's cousins' magic assisting them, the voyage would take longer than a week. Lysandra retreated to the largest tent, set up at the crest of a sand dune looking over the ocean. Aedion followed close behind, ever the soldier. 

Before ducking into the tent, Lysandra turned and said loudly, "Aedion, please come in." Aedion scowled at her, his back facing several soldiers who looked up at them. 

Lysandra stepped inside the tent, glad to remove herself from the direct heat of the mid-day sun. The heavy weapons belt and black clothing that Aelin suggested she wear was sticky, clinging to her skin as she quickly scanned the tent. 

It wasn't much, a cot to the side and small desk covered in papers, but better than sleeping outside. Ansel had offered her a room on one of the boats, but Lysandra-Aelin had refused, claiming a need to be located in an accessible position. 

Aedion shouldered his way through the tent opening, avoiding Lysandra's gaze as she stared at him. Lysandra gazed back. "It has been a week!" Lysandra exploded. "I cannot believe I am admitting this, but I need your help." Aedion only stared back, face unflinching and cold. "I will not apologize to you for serving Aelin, and Aelin only! You can go ahead and be the bastard that you are, but Aelin needs us." Lysandra's voice quieted. "Do this for Terrasen, and then you can run off and cry afterwards." 

Lysandra shot him another glare as Aedion lifted his gaze and stared back at Lysandra-Aelin's unflinching stare. He smirked and Lysandra's blood boiled. "Now you truly look like Aelin." 

Lysandra scowled and glanced at the mirror in the corner of the tent. Indeed, she did look like Aelin; stance wide as if expecting a fight, hands near her weapons belt, lips curled back and eyes burning blue and gold. 

Aedion took a step towards Lysandra. "I have fought and slaved for my queen and my court," he said, advancing another step. Each word struck Lysandra like a blow, but she planted her feet and glowered back, refusing to budge even an inch. "So don't talk to me of sacrifice. While I was feigning loyalty to Adarlan you were growing up with all of the pleasures you could hope for. All by spreading your--" Aedion cut off as Lysandra struck him across the face. She had shifted her fingers into razor-sharp talons that raked across Aedion's face. He jerked backwards, but not in time, as four long, bloody scratches marred his left side. 

Lysandra saw Evangeline standing in his place as she shifted back to Aelin's scarred hand. So many years ago Lysandra had done the same to Evangeline, but not to harm the girl, but to help her escape from the unspeakable life that Lysandra had grown up in. 

Aedion's muffled curse jerked her back to the present. The cuts were shallow but long, and had already bloodied his face. "Oh shit." Lysandra knew that the others in the camp would take one look at the cuts and know they were not human-inflicted injuries. She grabbed a towel and dunked it in the bucket near the mirror. 

Aedion stood still as Lysandra approached him with feline grace and placed the rag on his cheek. He hissed as the water made contact with the wounds on his face, but did not make any move to push her away.