Four days later
Aelin was still sceptical of this "goodie two shoes" charade the night court was putting up. They had been nothing but nice to her, and that was what she couldn't understand.
Usually, the hallucinations Maeve spun for her were horrifying and painful. Killing Rowan, making her relive the moments of her parents or Nehemiah dying. The only really good vision she had was one where Maeve showed her "The perfect world" with no pain whatsoever. But Aelin didn't fall for that.
So there she lay, in her bed, examining her hand. It was as clean as fresh snow. No calluses. No scar where she swore to Nehemiah's dead body. No scar where she once broke her hand to get more skilled at swordplay. Nothing.
It was then that she realised that she wanted to train. She wanted to get stronger. She wanted to spar. She wanted to fight. But with who? Mor seemed too weak. Too easy to beat. Rhysand was too preoccupied all the time. He wouldn't even try.
Amren reminded Aelin strongly of Manon, and she didn't want to fight someone that would most likely kill her, not just fight. And Aelin was weaker than normal. Her muscles weren't as strong as before.
The only options left were Azriel and Cassian. Aelin could sense some or other darkness about Azriel. His power reminded her of Lorcan, and a tad bit of Maeve. Aelin didn't want to fight someone that reminded her of Maeve.
The only one left was Cassian. He seemed like the perfect sparring partner. If he won, she would never hear the end of it. And vice versa. For the first time in forever, Aelin wasn't sure if she could win a fight. She was human. Cassian was fae. He was undoubtedly stronger than her, but Aelin was quick. Agile. Skilled. She had techniques.
There was a 50% chance of her winning and a 50% chance of Cassian winning. And she hoped that her 50% would win.
~
Rowan stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. He had decided that he had had enough of any sort of flowers. The scent was beginning to make him nauseous.
It had been four days and still no word. The mating bond was silent. Almost non-existent. But he could feel it getting stronger as if Aelin was growing closer. Closer to him.
During the five months, sixteen days and four hours, Rowan had imagined he and Aelin reuniting in hundreds of different ways. Some were better than others. Tears. Laughter. Relief. Pain. Obliviousness. Memory loss. Unrecognisable. Death.
He had imagined their conversations and every single detail. How her chest rose and fell in pattern with him as they breathed. How she sucked on a tooth as she thought. How her eyes scanned the room to watch out for intruders. How her ears were on full alert to spot eavesdroppers. How her eyes softened when she looked at him.
His heart hurt as he imagined her so vividly. Her hair blowing in the light breeze.
He had to find her. He just had to. Although the mating bond was still quite weak, it was still there. And Rowan planned on keeping it that way.
