World of Ashes

Chapter Six

The King of Adarlan stood on a hilltop, his cloak rippling in the wind. He wondered how Aelin was, and if Rowan was holding out. Somewhere, deep down, he could sense Aelin's pain. Saving him from the Valg on the bridge had forged some sort of bond between their powers, linking them in a way he couldn't explain. He could feel when her power was drained, or if something was affecting it.

The pain of her whiplashes was enough, it seemed, to tear her mind away from her Fae healing powers. Dorian prayed Rowan would find her soon. He didn't know how long Aelin could hold out, despite how much she'd been through before.

Sighing, Dorian turned away, his inky hair sliding into his face. Aelin could take care of herself. He knew that.

***

The witches were eerie in the firelight, dressed in their cloaks, crowded around the fire. Elide is huddled in a blanket, her black hair hanging in her face.

In typical fashion of the last few days, Manon ignored Dorian's approach. The witch was still very guarded, something Dorian found intriguing for such a powerful being. And yet, he supposed, it made sense. Manon was used to everyone being afraid of her. Dorian and Elide only trusted her. They respected her potential at killing and fighting, but were never afraid.

Manon finally looked up, glancing away from Edda and Brair. "You're back."

Dorian nodded. "There's something funny. When Aelin saved me, brought me back, she forged some sort of bond between our magic. I can feel if she's at full strength, or depleted. Or if there's something interfering with her power. I can feel her."

Manon raised a brow. "I've never heard of that before. The carranam bond, maybe, but Rowan is Aelin's carranam, and you can't have two." 

Dorian shrugged, plucking a piece of roast chicken from the spit. He sat down next to Elide, and asked, "Are you okay?"

Elide huffed. "That's the second time someone's asked me that tonight." She nodded towards Ghislaine.

Dorian tilted his head. "For good reason. You look like someone who's been tortured and starved for years. Which, I guess, you have."

The Lady of Perranth did look peaked. Her skin was pale, and her cheekbones sharp. Her hair hung lank and tangled, and her eyes were bloodshot from crying. He guessed it had something to do with Lorcan. He remembered the devastation he'd felt after Sorcha's death. It must have been worse because Lorcan was still alive. At lease Sorcha was in a good place, now. Lorcan had done something unforgivable, but obviously some part of Elide still cared for him.

Although he wished Sorcha was alive, he was grateful that she no longer had to endure this broken world. And he was grateful that he now had Manon, even if the witch refused to admit that she felt anything for him.