A Court of Stags and Night

Rowan

It had been nearly four days since Aedion had dragged him from the nursery. He struggled the first two days as he listened to his people explain what they needed to continue to rebuild. Or when they argued over some trivial matter that needed his advice. He'd catch himself looking over to where Aelin would normally be, only to realize she wasn't there.

"Aedion, take over," he growled quietly before stalking away from his duties.

The Wolf of the North glanced at him, but the male ignored it. He hated pity of any sort.

"Fenrys, Lorcan, we're heading back to the bridge."

The males said nothing but immediately disappeared. He shifted into his hawk and made his way over. Not even the feel of the wind in his feathers could make him feel better.

He shifted upon landing. Fenrys was already at the bridge. Lorcan appeared right after.

"I know we've already looked over this more times than we can count, but I feel we're missing something. I want clear heads and senses in overdrive. We need some sort of clue," he ordered his brothers.

Fenrys immediately shifted into his wolf, while Lorcan allowed some of his darkness to flow from his body. Rowan tracked his mate's stale scent, following her exact path to the bridge. The water messed him up a bit, but he pushed through it. His head began to pound as he neared the bridge, something that hadn't happened before.

"Rowan," Lorcan stated. "You're going to want to see this."

He was over at the base of the bridge where the portal had been. He made his way over and the smell hit him before he saw it.

The blood that had originally been red had turned black. There was very little left due to the rain that had recently come and gone. But he would never forget the scent.

"We killed them all," Fenrys commented, confusion lacing his features.

"It was Maeve," Lorcan grimaced as he knelt down to the blood that was left. "Her scent is all over it."

"But she's dead," Fenrys argued. "She couldn't have done this."

"Unless it was done before the final battle. A final trap she knew would defeat Aelin if all went to hell," Rowan thought aloud.

"If this was her magic, wouldn't you think the spell would have faded if she died?" Lorcan growled.

He still knew less about Wyrdmarks than his wife, but this new information unsettled him. Had they actually killed her or was it an imposter?

They needed to find them now more than ever.