After the Empire (Complete)

20 - Aelin

My heart feels like it's beating in my throat. Though the jostling of being perched on a wyvern's back is sending jolts of agony up my spine, I feel more elated than I have in longer than I can remember. 

Because we are descending. 

In the air, I can detect the scent of a war camp, smoke and blood and sweat. And intermingled with those scents...

them. 

Finally, the wyverns touch down. Dorian grips my arm and squeezes, a smile splitting his handsome face. He swings his legs off of the wyvern's back with the gentle ease of practice. Then he reaches up and begins to undo the mess of ropes used to secure me onto the flying creature. It was a humiliating process, being tied down like a deer after a hunt, but I didn't have the strength to hold myself onto the creature as it flew. 

When Dorian has finished, he reaches up and lifts me down off of the wyvern's back. Then he stands there, still holding me off the ground. 

I glare at him. "Put me down Dorian."

I'll be damned if I'll enter the camp of the armies I'm meant to lead being cradled like a child. Pain or no. 

Dorian hesitates, but sets me gently on my feet. 

I gasp, but don't lose my footing. Thankfully I was able to recover enough strength during the flight to be able to support myself now. How long it will last I don't know, but it's better not to think on that if I can help it. 

Manon strolls over, her steps fluid and feline. "Ready to see you court, majesty?" her words are nearly a purr. 

And there they are, walking over from the camp. Sunlight glints off of their polished blades, giving them the appearance of glowing. Their steps are purposeful, proud. They are my court, my warriors, my army. I feel a shuddering gasp escape my throat as I'm hit by a happiness I hadn't let myself hope I would ever feel again. 

But something is wrong. 

There is a tension in the air that shouldn't be there, an undercurrent of anger and fear that seems out of place. A feeling of something dangerous and untrusting shifting beneath my loved one's faces. 

Then I start to notice things that I should have immediately. Things I would have noticed, had I not let my joy blind me. None of them are smiling, though I know that they have seen me. Aedion is refusing to meet my eyes, his own fixed on the ground in a hard glare. A slender woman walks beside him, dark hair framing her narrow face. Something in the way she holds herself tells me that this is Lysandra, but she's not wearing my face. And finally, most importantly of all, 

He's nowhere to be seen. 

I slowly reach a hand for blades I no longer have. Something is very, very wrong. 

"Care to tell me why you all look like you've arrived on your final battlefield?" Manon's voice is cutting and terse. I'm not the only one who has noticed how off this feels. 

It's Aedion who breaks the silence, his voice hard and angry. The sound of it hits me like a blade through the heart. "Where did you find it?" he asks. 

Manon bears her teeth at him. "Find what?"

"That." his voice is flat when he gestures at me, his eyes still fixed anywhere but my face. 

"You mean your queen and cousin?" Manon responds, a note of confusion hidden behind her usual deadly purr.

"No." Aedion says, a dark fury colouring his voice "I mean the damned thing wearing her face."

Lysandra closes her hand around Aedion's arm and whispers something in his ear. He shakes his head, but she keeps talking. Finally, as though it pains him, Aedion nods. 

"Would somebody care to tell me what is going on?" I say, the first words I have spoken. I try not to let my hurt and fear creep into my voice. I can't show weakness. Not right now. 

At the sound of my voice, both Aedion and Lysandra flinch. It feels like a punch to the stomach.

"Why tell you what you already know, if you can even think." Aedion's voice is dead and cold. Even the anger has leeched from it.  

Lysandra meets my eyes, pain and contempt warring for dominance behind her gaze. She walks towards me, slowly. Every pace measured. Finally she stands right in front of me, close enough that I could touch her if I stretched out my hand. 

We hold each other's gaze for what might as well have been centuries. Then something seems to give behind her eyes. 

"If you are Aelin, if that impossibility is true, I am sorry for this cold reception. But Maeve has created dozens of copies of you. We have been glad to see you too many times, held you too many times. Had to kill you too many times. If you are Aelin, then you're going to have to prove it, and you're going to have to prove it well. Because at this point, I'm pretty sure you're dead."

I can't breath. Can't think. 

My hair. Maeve took my hair. 

What had she said?

They won't even know that you are gone.

Dorian has stepped away from me. His blues eyes filled with horror. I look down at my hands. My scar covered, shaking hands. 

And ball them into fists. 

"How do you want me to prove who I am?" 

"Follow me. You can wait in iron chains until Rowan gets back. He's the only one who can ever tell anyways."

Chains. Not chains again. 

Rowan. I'll get to see him again. 

Slowly, I follow Lysandra back into the camp. 

Hey all!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to vote and comment below. 

Also, I think I'm going to post the next chapter later today, so keep and eye open for that.