Home to the Gathering Storm

Nightmares

It had been six weeks. Six entire weeks since that day on the beach. Shards of that scene had flashed through Elide's mind over and over and over again.

The war of two great powers, one of light and fire and the other of cold and darkness.

The despair that had descended as the light guttered.

The near-physical pain of watching her Queen refuse to bend, even as her body was shredded.

The knowledge that Maeve's presence on the beach was partially Elide's own fault.

And in her dreams, the same scene repeated each night.

Elide crouched in the coffin, much bigger than she remembered it, staring down at Aelin's unconscious form. Creaking echoed throughout the darkened chambers of her mind and she knew she was running out of time. Each night, Elide fumbled desperately with the chains and manacles binding her Queen, and each night Aelin would awake as she somehow managed the task. Aelin would stand from the coffin, uninjured, and turn to Elide, a relieved smile on her face.

"Let's hope they don't start the fighting without us," Aelin would say, just as the sound of prowling male footsteps began to close in on the door.

"Hurry!" Aelin would urge her, and Elide would stand and attempt to follow her queen out of the coffin only to find her injured leg chained to an iron bolt in the center of the wooden prison.

And every single night Elide would beg Aelin to run as she got back into the coffin to help free her twisted leg from the iron.

And a door previously wreathed in shadow would fly open to reveal the hulking form of a fae male. Aelin stopped trying to free her and turned towards the male approaching them, and every single gods damned night, she would move to shield Elide with her body and the Queen of Terrasen, the woman who had given so much already, would tell Elide not to worry...she would tell Elide that she would protect her.

The sides of the iron coffin would expand and shoot towards the ceiling until neither of its occupants could see over the sides.

The footsteps always reached the coffin. A muscular arm would reach out to pull the lid into place.

But it always paused.

And every night, Elide would shrink back as far into the shadows of that coffin as she could, because the voice that always spoke next frightened her as much as the face that accompanied it.

"I swore I would always find you, didn't I?" Lorcan would ask, his deep voice smooth as honey as he shut the lid of the coffin, betraying the Queen and the Lady once more, and leaving Elide to wake each morning in a cold sweat.

Until, one night, the dream ended while the world was still cloaked in darkness.

An air of perpetual unrest hung over the ship, but Elide felt it weigh on her more heavily that night.

"You need to be protected," the voice of her own doubt sang in her ear. It had been that weakness that had gotten Aelin captured in the first place, and every night she was reminded of it as Aelin would turn to help her and use her own body as a barrier between Elide and what ever stalked towards them. As every night she would protect Elide from danger.

That danger, as it so happened, was Maeve's loyal dog. The male that angered her and threw her off balance as no other had. Granted, she hadn't known many other men, but she had always been able to trust her instincts and the guidance of Anneith, her protector.

She'd never doubted that her instincts would lead her to the truth, until they had lead her to Lorcan.

And gods, she had thought...just for a moment she had thought that she was- It made her sick just to think about what she had felt for him. The physical attraction had been natural, swift even, but it was his sense of duty and respect for her, even when they'd nearly ripped each other to pieces with words, that had led Elide to believe herself to be falling in love with him.

And he had sold Aelin to Maeve.

All in the name of protecting her...

A weak and naive witchling who couldn't walk up a staircase without being reminded of how painfully frail she was.

She'd only spoken to him once in the six weeks since his betrayal. He'd tried to use his power to brace her leg and she'd yelled at him that she'd rather be confined to a chair for the rest of her life than take any assistance from him.

That recollection left her restless and overheated, so she pushed back the heavy coverlet that had saved her from shivering so many other nights during this ride, and swung her legs over the side of her bed (the only one on the tiny ship). Elide crept past Gavriel and Lorcan's sleeping forms, wrapped in blankets on the floor, and left the cabin. She let the door snick shut behind her in the gentle wind that blew wind into their sails.

Rowan's wind. A gentle breeze that barely filled the sails, a wind that was meant to carry them past a formation of four sleek, unmarked ships that had been sailing a little too close for comfort.

The fae warrior was standing by the mast, silver hair gleaming in the moonlight. His attention was fixed on a small spot on the deck, his attention unwavering. Elide watched him silently from the shadows of the cabin.