After the Empire (Complete)

8 - Rowan

I keep seeing her eyes. 

I know that it wasn't real. Logically, I know that it was a spell. I know that it was Maeve playing tricks with my mind. I know that it was nothing but a cheap carbon copy, and that somewhere out there Maeve is probably laughing at me. I know that it wasn't even really alive.

But there was something real about those eyes. They were her eyes. And right before it crumbled away, right before it turned to dust, there was real pain, in those eyes. 

I saw those eyes die, and somehow, that was real. 

I don't know how long it's been since the castle. I can't seem to keep myself grounded. It may have been days, or it may have been hours. 

I know that somehow I got out. It may have involved Gavriel dragging me, though I can't exactly recall.

I know that there are whispers coming from behind me. Gavriel and Lorcan trying to give me my space. Or, to be fair, Gavriel trying to give me my space and forcing Lorcan to follow suit. I don't know why they're bothering. They know I can hear them. They must know I can hear them. 

"What was it?" Gavriel's voice is hushed. 

"Mimic spell." Lorcan's reply is not. "I saw her use them once before. You take a piece of whoever you're copying, and you use it to build an exact replica. Then you fill it with whatever memories you have of the person, plus whatever knowledge you can, and you hope it's enough. It's risky, using them. There's almost always something that you don't know, some tiny bit of knowledge that you can't pass to the copy. And whatever it is, it gives them away."

"Then why would she use them now?" Gavriel's question is tired. Like he knows that, whatever the answer may be, it will not be pleasant. 

Lorcan doesn't say anything. His silence stretches out, seeming to quiet the whole world. That silence, which could mean a thousand different thing. That silence, that could be an admission of ignorance. That silence that could be an unwillingness to voice an idea so awful that it shouldn't be heard. That silence that could be the product of shear, selfish indifference. 

I can't take it anymore. 

"Who cares."

My voice doesn't sound like mine. It's frozen, uncaring, distant. The voice of a disinterested stranger.

"Rowan?"

Gavriel is tentative, careful. Like he's approaching a skiddish animal he doesn't want to spook. 

"Who care?" Again my voice that is not my voice says. "Who cares why. No one ever knows why Maeve does anything. Ever. And trying to understand what is happening in that twisted, sick head will never get us anywhere. It certainly won't save Aelin. Or her kingdom. So I don't care why. I don't give a shit. I just want to find my mate. "

"Rowan," it's Lorcan, less tentative than Gavriel but still gentler than I have heard it in centuries, "There's one thing you haven't considered."

"What?" I ask, "Enlighten me. Tell me what I might have forgotten to consider. Because I have gone over it in my head a million times already. What this could mean, why she might have done it, how she did it, what she might be trying to accomplish. And I keep coming to the same thing. I. Just. Don't. Care."

But then Lorcan says something that finally pierces the hard, chilly hand clamped around my heart. 5 words. That it. Just 5. And suddenly the world has stopped turning. And all the plans have changed. Suddenly, we have to get back to others as soon as possible. All because of 5, simple words. 

Did

She 

Only 

Make 

One. 

Hey all! 

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!

(HUGE apology to those who thought we'd get a resolution to the last Aelin cliffhanger in this chapter, next one. Promise)

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