After Empire of Storms

Chapter 13

After Elide's cry of shock finished echoing across the waves, Gavriel and Rowan emerged from the cabin, haggard but palming weapons. Elide retched into the water, the iron nails arousing nausea and shock. Lorcan stood a few paces behind her, opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to say something but didn't. A look from Rowan had him shutting it entirely.

Elide's nails had not been wholly replaced with iron, like the other witches. Only the tips of her fingernails had changed, the sharp pricks of metal contrasting greatly with the rest of her pale, human nails. Iron. Elide calmed her breathing, but her fingers did not change back.

Elide glanced back at her right hand, where blood coated her pointer finger and closed her eyes as another pulse of nausea shot through her body. Lorcan's blood. The blood of an immortal fae warrior. She had injured a male who could kill her without blinking.

Cool hands pulled back her hair as Elide leaned over the side of the boat, still staring at her eyes in the reflective water. The glow of gold had subsided, but the specks still remained, and seemed to shine in her onyx eyes. Elide heaved again, emptying her stomach of the bread and water she had eaten earlier in the day.

"What happened?" Gavriel's calm voice relaxed Elide as she took a deep, shuddering breath. Wordlessly, Elide turned and raised her hands in front of her chest, crossing them and placing her arms on her breast. Her forgotten book still rested on the inside of her shirt.

The shine of iron was easily visible against her drab clothes, and Elide closed her eyes against the stare of the three males. The iron shone in the sun, so different than the Thirteen's nails which had dulled with time.

Rowan sucked in a sharp breath, eyes still focused on her hands. Gavriel's stare pinned Elide to the spot, his eyes staring at the anomalies in her own gaze.

"Lorcan," Elide stumbled over his name, "is a prick." The word tasted foreign on her tongue as the males' attention shifted to the fae standing away from the rest of the group. "That is what happened." Elide looked down at her iron nails, which showed no evidence of vanishing anytime soon.

Lorcan breathed out, the soft whoosh of air almost too loud for the silent deck. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

Elide simply glared at the male with a ferocity that would've made Manon proud. "Too gods-damned late."

* * * * *

The busy docks of Wendlyn were crowded with vendors bringing their rich goods to the plentiful cities. An assault of smells filled Rowan's senses, the strong spices and scents reminding him of the centuries he had spent just north of the same docks. Even though the group had reached the continent just as the sun was rising, the shops and stands lining the streets were already open.

The boat had docked in a small port town south of Doranelle. The group would have to spend many nights hiking through the stone villages and forest to reach Maeve's fortress. The route should be safer than the trek Rowan had taken with Aelin when he had first met her, but with three fae males the journey should be easy.

Elide stepped off the boat first, clasping her cloak closer to her in the morning chill. The gold in her eyes could be easily passed off as natural, albeit strange, coloring, but gloves covered Elide's hands. The fae did not want to risk her iron nails appearing.

The iron had disappeared from Elide's hands after she had left Lorcan's presence. Rowan led Elide back into the cabin, concerned for the Lady of Perranth. "Could you try to..." Rowan gestured to Elide's hands.