The Queen of many titles with the mark of the Namless

Fire-Wielder

Fire burst through the city. Cold fire. Not burning, not damaging, not hurting, just there. Rolfe's eyes were the size of a ball. Her small grin made them realize how powerful she was. Ten seconds after, all of the fire sucked back in. Glorious flames retracted back to her. The cadre stilled with the immortal stillness. "Do you wish to fight alone, against adarlanian army, and perish without a name, or do you want to fight with Terassen's army and win or die with a name," she purred. She knew for a fact that Rolfe wasn't in it for the kicks, it was for the praise and fame, so she used it against him. "And with the Rite, you have no choice but to assist," again, the Rite was a powerful document. And she used it. "What Terassen's army? Last time I had a whiff of their army it was eleven years ago," Rolfe said. "That army," she said pointing to the window. A ginormous fleet stopped at the docks. Small smile of victory spread on her face. "Who are they?" Rolfe asked, now a bit more timid. "Wendlyn's army, Ashryvers," the flow of pride spread through her. "Fight against us and you will see who will be left standing, fight with us...that is an outcome we will only see," she said and stalked to the door, "and Rolfe? Word of advice? Choose correctly, I don't want to fight against my friends," she says and opens the door. "I believe we have to go, Prince," she adressed Rowan, softly. The cadre watched the woman in awe. Rolfe couldn't help but to gape. The cadre followed her quietly. She walked in front of the fleet. A man with eyes twin to her own walked to the cadre. She hid behind them, the cadre shielded her with their bodies. "I've come to talk with Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of Terassen," the man said handing Rowan her letter.

I hope Wendlyn hadn't forgotten Evalin Ashryver

The words were laced with venom of sweetness. "I believe you've found her," Rowan said, guardedly. He moved out of the way to reveal her. The cadre tensed as she stride over to the man. She put her arm out. "Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, I see you got my message,"
"Wendlyn never forgot her," he says.
"Galan, I prosume," she said and he shook her arm.
"The rest of our fleet will come in a few days," he said and his eyes danced around the cadre.
"I wasn't aware Meave's soldiers would accompany us?" He said directing the question towards Aelin. She smiled lightly.
"I wasn't either,"

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Rowan was slowly beginning to see the queen in her. The way she spoke with such command made him realize she was older than he thought. Right then a thought hit him. When he asked her how old she was she answered mentally or physically. They walked on their ship. She said that they were to meet at Terassen's coast, not when. She said she had some business to attend to. He silently observed her. Her body, her actions, they reminded him of Gavriel. They were like Gavriel's but more cold. "How old are you?" Gavriel asked out of nowhere. "Eighteen," she answered shortly climbing onboard. Gavriel nodded. The Lion was interested in her and Rowan didn't know why. Some territorial Fae part of him wanted to kill all of them, for even talking to her. He felt the need to protect her. Shield her from everything, destroy everything and everyone who challenged her. "It's rude to stare, Prince," she says returning his gaze. He quickly averts his gaze, but it's useless. Everyone's seen him staring.

Rowan saw her escape into her own chambers. "Are you alright, Rowan?" Gavriel asks him. "Yes, yeah I'm alright," Rowan responds. Without another word he followed the Princess to her chambers. She walked on the floorboards almost soundlessly, but Rowan's footsteps on the wooden floors were echoing like drums. She opened the door and left them open for Rowan to come in.
"Are you alright?" He repeated the same question Gavriel asked him.
"Why wouldn't I be?" She answers with a question.
"Why wouldn't you not be alright?" Rowan says playing along.
"Why would you think I wouldn't not be not alright?" She smirks.
"Is there a question you want answered but you are too afraid to ask?" She asks him.
"What stunt did you pull?"
"A friend and I released two hundred slaves from him, a few years back, cost him a fortune, so he's a little wary of me,"

"Who was the friend?" Rowan asks, he's sensing that he was more than that.
"Sam Cortland, I trained with him in Southern Wastes, with Silent Assassins," she says shortly.
"Now, my two questions. How drained were you when you toppled down Sollemere? And how long did it take?" She asks. Two very unexpected questions. Most people asked about his tattoo or his form.
"I recovered completely ten days after that, and it took about two days to destroy it completely," he answers and she nods as in confirmation. After a few seconds he got up and walked out.

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It was dusk, and she hadn't trained in a long time. She got up and walked to her closet, she took off her suit and put on a tunic and pants. The Amulet of Orynth jingled on her chest. She took her matching hunting daggers.

It was soothing, slow waves of the sea. The sun sparkling in the water, reflecting it's form. Wind hitting her face, carrying scents from everywhere. Purple, yellow, orange and red stained the sky. Her eyes illuminating the sun.
She rolled her shoulders and angled her head. She took the blindfold out of her pocket and shifted into her Fae form. She put the blinfold on and placed herself in defense stance. Duck, block, sidestep, punch, hit, kick. She repeated that shifting all of the variables.

Rowan watched her technique, it was unlike any other he had ever seen. Easy patterns but complexe outcomes. Without a second thought he whirled a dagger towards her.

Her instincts screamed to put her hands before her, so she did. Her two knives stopping the dagger millimeter before her skull. She let the dagger fall and took off her blindfold.
"You'll need to be an awful lot quicker than that to catch me off guard," she said picking the dagger up. Twirling it through her fingers, painfully slowly.
Quick as a flash she whirled it towards Rowan's ponytail. Cutting it right off and embedding itself in the wall behind, with silver hair on it. Both males stood stunned at the skill, but were quickly interrupted by Lorcan. "Let's see how good you are with a real oponent," he says tauntingly.