Court of Shadows (Indefinite Hiatus)

PART 16: ROWAN

The two fae sentries reached the cluster of boulders that marked their final checkpoint and promptly turned around, starting another round. Their mumbling voices echoed against the dense woods.

Rowan Whiethorn, Prince of Doranelle, mate to Aelin Ashryver Galaythnius, and now Prince Consort of Terrasen, hopped down from his perch and began gliding from tree to tree, silently tracking the soldiers once more.

The soldiers stationed around the palace and throughout the village completed their duties with fierce vigilance, marching their rounds in stony silence and with watchful intensity.

But out there, in the far outreaches of Doranelle where disorderly soldiers were sent to patrol, the males talked freely. The eastern edge of the kingdom was surrounded by dense fae forests at the bases of the Cambrian Mountains. The pairing made an impenetrable boundary that warded off all potential threats, so the male sentries passed the inevitably uneventful time with conversation. Rowan followed and listened from the treetops.

It hadn't taken long for him, Lorcan and Gavriel to agree upon reconnaissance positions and a rendezvous date and location, but it still hadn't been fast enough. Not while Aelin was at Maeve's mercy. Rowan's talons tightened, gouging into the tree bark.

Immediately after they made their plans, Rowan shifted and set off for Doranelle. It didn't seem likely that Maeve would return to her palace so soon-- she hardly ever did anything that directly--, but it still remained a primary source of intel.

Nevertheless, Rowan spent the entire flight searching for signs of Maeve's passage: clues that Fenrys would have left behind. But there had been nothing.

Either Fenrys had been physically unable to leave signs, or they hadn't returned to Doranelle at all.

When Rowan arrived, he remained in his hawk form-- flying around the kingdom, watching and listening for any information on the dark Queen's location. So far, he had yet to learn anything of real use.

Rowan's blood boiled with the inactivity; he had to fight the incessant urge to barge into the palace and carve the information out of the guards himself. Unfortunately, stealth had been the agreed-upon tactic.

So until then, Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius lurked in the shadows, where he followed and listened.