After the Empire (Complete)

10 - Rowan

I don't think I've ever run faster in my life. The three of us are moving so fast, we might as well be flying.  

Because if Maeve made one double, she might have made two. Or three. Or four. And the rest of Aelin's court aren't as likely to be looking for the trick, aren't as likely to notice the oddness of the magic. And, if I'm being honest, they aren't as likely to notice anything wrong with Aelin. They know her, but they've all only seen her at her best, or as Celaena. None of them would recognize angry, bitter, broken Aelin. They might put any small shifts down to the trauma. 

So we have to run. And we have to run fast. Because a puppet Aelin could ruin everything. 

I can smell them now, closer every second. It's the scent of fires and people and food and blood. I can pick out Lysandra among them, and Aedion. 

And there. 

It's there. 

Aelin. 

I swear and push myself faster. Every second is a second more that the double could be cracking everything apart. 

I can see it now, a small island of tents. People moving like ants around a hill. Unaware, so blissfully unaware. 

I follow the scent, throwing myself past tents and fire pits, and confused faces. Some try to stop me, but I don't even acknowledge them. And I'm gone before they have time to draw their swords. 

Then I see her, her blond hair pulled back to reveal the graceful arc of her throat. Eyes wide and mouth spread in a smile. Beside her sits Aedion, a grin plastered on his own face. 

I stop. 

Even though I know that I shouldn't, that she is dangerous, that I need to keep going, I stop. 

Because even though I know, I know, that it isn't her, there is a part of me that still hopes. That is clinging to a desperate, feral desire for her to be real. 

Aedion looks up at me, and his smile spreads even more. 

"Rowan!"

His eyes are alight, joy leaking from every pore. Because of course it is. He has her back. She's safe and with him, and everything is going to be alright. 

The girl beside him rises to her feet, warmth shining in her eyes. 

"Rowan"

The name on her lips is like a spell. Because she sounds the same. Just the same. 

I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this again. 

But I have to be. I have to be for her, and for them. 

The words force themselves through my closing throat. "Three words. You have three words to convince me that you are Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. Otherwise my blade goes through your heart."

Aedion's eyebrows crease together in confusion and anger, and his hand inches towards his blade. I don't look at him. I can't look at him. Then Gavriel is there, his hand on Aedion's shoulder and his voice quiet in his ear. 

The thing wearing my mate's face looks me in the eye, then says "Rowan, it's me!"

I feel a hand clench around the part of me that had had the audacity to hope, to even let myself entertain the useless, foolish hope that it might be her. 

It's harder this time. It's harder because I can already picture what she'll look like, the wide confusion of her face, the gasp of her last breath. The light sparking out of those blue, blue eyes. 

I can feel the tears spilling over my cheeks as I draw my dagger. 

Maeve will pay for this. 

If it is the last thing I do with my life, I will make Maeve pay for this. 

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