After Empire of Storms

Chapter 5

Aelin kept her eyes closed as she woke and steadied her breathing. Any hope of the incidents having been a dream slipped away as she viewed the iron box still confining the Queen of Terrasen. Having been asleep for much of the journey she was not aware of how much time had passed since they had left the beach. 

A slight bump alerted Aelin to the boat's stop, along with the calling of sailors and splashing of water. There was little she could see from the small holes over her head. The sky was a bright turquoise, lit by the sun just out of Aelin's view. The combination of colors reminded Aelin of her eyes. Ashryver eyes. Would she ever get to see them again? Whether hers or Aedion's? Maeve didn't seem like she would offer Aelin anything, much less a mirror. But Aelin refused to let her bright eyes dull with tears as she examined her prison as much as she could without disturbing her back. 

The darkness had been decreased, allowing Aelin to see down to her calves. Sand coated her bloodied pants from when she had fallen on the beach, the black fabric now ruined and stained. Her back screamed in agony as Aelin tried to raise to her elbows, hopeful to gain a look outside of her iron prison. Aelin gritted her teeth, the pain in her back throbbing but subsiding. Pushing her left eye to the openings above her, Aelin pushed to see anywhere but up. As Aelin's face reached towards the holes, she was blinded by the sun coming into view. She blinked away the black spots that were clouding her vision. The ship's mast jutted into the sky, the flag of Maeve rippling in the light breeze. The black flag was only interrupted by an owl its eyes the same color as Maeve's. The deep purple seemed to absorb any light trying to filter its way through the flag. The iron mask hindered all view past the boat, and Aelin wanted to scream. 

Heavy footsteps neared her prison, and Aelin lied back on her wounds as they passed, her back, still raw and leaking blood, protested as she rested with her hands at her sides. Her unused muscles were tired and achy from being in the same position for so long. But how long? The only sound in the coffin was Aelin's shallow breaths as the footsteps came to a stop near Aelin's feet. A slight puff of air from the end of the coffin was the only thing that revealed that someone was there. Fae, most likely. Aelin had remained in her Fae form, not having the strength or magic to shift. Her heightened senses were certainly advantageous when locked in a metal box. 

A sickly-sweet smell drifted on the sea's currents, blocking out Aelin's thoughts. Aelin blinked away the haze, focusing again on the Fae standing outside her box. Her first step was to get out of these blasted shackles. Aelin didn't need a weapon to overpower many people. She was a weapon. Her magic could create the deadliest of swords and daggers, and Aelin was not planning on wasting the small kernel of fire at the bottom of her well of magic. 

The footsteps sounded again, softer this time, approaching her head. Aelin muffled a laugh. Did they think that they could sneak up on her? A dark shadow blocked out the holes above Aelin's eyes. Aelin relaxed her body and evened out her breaths. Hopefully she could lull the Fae above her into a sense of security, allowing Aelin her chance of escape. 

Aelin began to slowly shift her hand from its shackle, bending her thumb to the point of near-dislocation. It was one of the first things Arobynn had taught her; how to escape from numerous constraints and holds, even if it meant injuring yourself in the process. Ignoring the oppressive shadow still looming above her, Aelin began to silently disengage herself from her right hand's shackle. 

The person leaning over Aelin's coffin retreated as Aelin pulled her hand from her shackle and started on her left hand. Although there was no way to remove her feet's irons in such a confined space and with nothing to pick the lock, Aelin was glad to have her hands free. It gave her a chance to fight. 

Suddenly a soft spritz from the top of the coffin alerted Aelin to the stranger's presence. The sickly-sweet scent drifted into the coffin again. Aelin sniffed delicately, still remaining silent. She had not heard the footsteps retreat. The smell grew stronger as the spritzing continued and Aelin muffled a curse. No, not again. Not again. Gloriella. Aelin pounded on the coffin's ceiling, ignoring the searing pain of her back.