A Court of Ash and Fire

Chapter Twenty-Three

One hour earlier

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, his eyes flickering from the paperwork before him and their bedroom door. The sun had set, and Aelin was still nowhere to be found.

He sighed, shoving aside the papers and massaging the spot between his eyebrows. Sometimes his Fireheart could be a bit frustrating.

He turned as Fleetfoot came barrelling into their room, snow dusting her golden fur. Her caramel eyes were wide, panicked.

Frowning, Rowan extended a hand towards the dog. "What's wrong?"

The pup looked between Rowan and the door, before running out of the latter. His curious peaked, Rowan stood and swiftly followed the dog.

Fleetfoot lead him out into the snow, the stars twinkling overhead. Wishing he had bought his cloak, Rowan let Fleetfoot lead him into the nearest pine forest.

It was only thanks to his Fae senses that he didn't trip over rocks and twigs as they wound through the tightly-knit trees. Fleetfoot barked from somewhere to his left, and he let his instincts guide him to the sound.

He found the dog sitting beside a large, flat stone, half buried in the snow. He crouched beside it, the faint scent of dried blood wafting from the Wyrdmarks etched into it. Beneath the iron smell, he could scent jasmine and burning embers.

Aelin.

He looked up at Fleetfoot, who woofed softly. Directing his gaze back down at the stone, Rowan drew his dagger and slit open his palm. Deep red blood dripped into the Wyrdmarks, and they began to glow. His eyes widened just as he was sucked into the portal, his yell still echoing in the woods even when he was gone.