#arobynn bitch

[riaann]

they're a part of my soul now

#throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash #fantasy #sjmaas #rowaelin #maeve can suck my dick #arobynn bitch #elorcan #manorian #lysaedion #chaol x yrene

[crescentworld]

“Actually, I believe the title our esteemed friends in the empire now like to use is ‘fire-breathing bitch-queen.’ ”

Queen of Shadows by Sarah J Maas

#books #sarah j maas #throne of glass #book quotes #celaena sardothien #quotes #queen of shadows #read #currently reading #books and reading #aelin galathynius #fire breathing bitch queen #arobynn hamel #chaol westfall

[leiawritesstories]

PART TWO: FEBRUARY

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: graphic violence, alcohol, mentions of homicide, Sam, police bureaucracy, innuendo

All the thanks once again to @house-of-galathynius for beta reading 🫶

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“P-please,” stammered the man chained to the steel wall, his voice pitched high with terror. “I sw-swear, I don’t know anything a-at-at all.” Dark, wet patches marred his torn clothing–the stains of blood, sweat, urine, and pure uninhibited fear. 

Rowan rolled his eyes and idly danced a small knife across his gloved knuckles. “If you knew nothing, Mr. Wilkins, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He was pleasantly surprised it had taken this long for Cairn Wilkins to start talking, though he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed drawing out the interrogation as long as possible. Perhaps he could speed things up…“Mr. Wilkins, why did you blow up your own warehouse?”

Despite the way his body must have been screaming in pain, Cairn managed to stiffen his spine and muster a glare. “I d-didn’t blow up–” a deep, raspy breath–“my own fucking warehouse.”

“Who did?” Feigning disinterest, Rowan flexed his black-gloved hand atop his black-clad thigh, drumming his fingers against his sturdy cargo pants. 

Cairn coughed and spat blood. “The fuck should I know?” 

Faster than a cobra, Rowan struck. His brass-knuckled fist slammed into Cairn’s already-broken ribs hard enough to deepen the break, making the man groan deeply, his breath reduced to a sputtering wheeze. “I can smell your bullshit,” he said flatly. “Who was it?” 

“Fuck…you.” A second later, Cairn screamed, writhing in his bonds as a long, narrow strip of his skin fell to the concrete floor, landing with a soft, wet thwack. 

His face utterly bored, Rowan flicked the short, slender knife back into his sleeve. “The sooner you spit out a name, the sooner that person pays.” He had a sense that appealing to Cairn’s obvious greed would provide the last bit of convincing needed. He was right. 

“Th-that…fucking Gal-Gala-Galathynius bitch,” Cairn wheezed, fury flashing across his battered face. 

Rowan raised a skeptical brow. “You mean the Galathynius who was seen lounging on the roof of her building on that night? The Galathynius who was miles away from your pathetic little warehouse? That Galathynius?” 

“That bitch–” Cairn paused to spit out another mouthful of blood. “Did it.” 

“Hmm.” Rowan mulled over the information and shrugged. “You seem convinced. Now, while we’re on the topic, why would Galathynius blow up your warehouse?” 

Cairn’s glare, though quickly overtaken by agony, was venomous enough to kill. “Because that bitch knew I was coming for her.” Once he’d started ranting, he couldn’t seem to stop. “She killed my– uh, Arobynn in cold blood. Some fucking bullshit about how he was a sleazy criminal bastard who didn’t deserve to live. She’s got it in her stupid head that she’s cleansing the world of v-vil-villains–” he paused to gasp for breath–“and I’m next on the fucking list.” 

“That was quite a speech.” Rowan’s tone was as dry as the Red Desert. And yet…something about Cairn’s unhinged rambling clicked with his theory. Cleansing the world of villains. He almost snorted out loud. Maybe if Aelin Galathynius wasn’t a villain herself, he’d believe it. “So what, you were going to end her before she ended you or some shit?”

“Yeah.” 

At that, Rowan did snort out a laugh. “Sometimes, I can’t fucking believe the shit I hear.” He stared at Cairn for a moment. “Thank you for the information.” With that, he slammed his fist into the man’s temple, knocking him out cold, then exited the warehouse and nodded to the pair of soldiers standing outside. “Drop it off like we talked about.” 

Rowan had known as soon as his man informed him they’d got Cairn Wilkins in custody that he was going to interrogate Wilkins and then dump whatever was left in a location where it would easily be found. He hoped that the bastard’s remains would turn up as another homicide scene shortly later, and he hoped that would give him the first block of evidence he needed to present to Gav. With any luck, Aelin Galathynius would find Cairn Wilkins’s battered self, kill the bastard, and leave him for the police and the press to find. 

Which was exactly what happened. 

~

“Lieutenant!” The police sergeant burst into Rowan’s office, interrupting a relatively slow, rather boring morning. “There’s another homicide scene.” 

Rowan was out of the office in seconds, the sergeant falling into step beside him and quickly briefing him on the details. He nodded. “Thanks, Luca.” Luca was one of the few members of the Orynth PD investigative team that Rowan tolerated, mostly because he was passably smart, observant, and usually kept his mouth shut unless he was saying something important. 

Luca nodded sharply. “You’re going to the scene?” 

“No.” 

“What?” 

“No need.” Rowan stopped at the door to Captain Westfall’s office. “Keep me posted if there’s any significant evidence.” 

“I…right. I will.” Luca turned on his heel and strode away. Another reason Rowan tolerated the kid–he didn’t ask stupid questions. 

Before Rowan could decide whether he was going to knock or just barge into that incompetent twat Westfall’s office, the door flew open to reveal a steaming-mad Chaol Westfall. Rowan could practically see the smoke pouring from his ears. “Just the man I wanted to see,” Rowan drawled. 

“Just the asshole I was about to summon,” Chaol growled. He stepped aside so Rowan could enter his office and slammed the door behind the two of them. “What the fuck, Whitethorn?” Rowan hadn’t even been on the investigation for two weeks before Chaol stopped calling him “Lieutenant.” 

“What d’you mean?” Rowan couldn’t resist playing innocent; riling up Police Captain Chaol Westfall was just too fun. And too easy. 

“I mean the fucking victim,” Chaol snapped. “What. The. Fuck.” 

“If you’re accusing me of murder, Shale, you really should think twice about your precious little job.” 

“That’s not my na–whatever. You know what I’m fucking talking about.” 

“Maybe I don’t. Could you specify?” It took all of Rowan’s self-control not to snicker at the delightful shade of purple Chaol’s face was turning. 

Chaol’s dark eyes narrowed in fury. “You tortured that victim before he was murdered,” he seethed. “Don’t give me any bullshit about how similar it is to the MO of the other homicides. It’s not. It’s your work, and I recognize your work when I see it.” He took a deep breath. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you, I’m the head of this investigation, and therefore you come to me for clearance before you go off and fucking torture someone?” 

Rowan just rolled his eyes. “I’m an outside contract, Westhall, not one of your brainless lackeys. If I decide your methods aren’t working, then I use my own.” One corner of his lips curled up into a vicious smirk. “Besides, it worked. I got the info I needed. It’s not my fault Wilkins happened to end up getting finished off by some other criminal.”

Chaol muttered a string of truly creative curses under his breath. “Get out of my office, Whitethorn.” 

Rowan threw Chaol a lazy, sarcastic salute and strolled out of the office, not bothering to close the door behind him. He went down the hall to the investigative team’s main gathering space and checked in on the evidence they’d gathered from Cairn Wilkins’s murder scene. It wasn’t much, just a few photos and samples of his clothes. He asked a few questions but mostly left everyone else alone, knowing that they could handle taking care of this crime scene. All he did was add Cairn Wilkins to the whiteboard, the latest addition in the column labeled Homicides–String?

His theory that all the deaths were connected was coming along nicely, as was his slowly-crystallizing theory that Galathynius was behind the crimes. After the setup with Cairn’s worthless corpse, he believed had one of his key pieces of that goddamn “concrete proof” he needed. Now, he just had to hope Gav would listen to him long enough to see his point.

~

Ren Allsbrook, alias Chaol Westfall, waited until Rowan’s angry footsteps had faded away before he picked up his cell phone and called his boss. He drummed his fingertips on the desk as he waited for her to pick up, muttering a curse under his breath when her phone went to voicemail and he had to try again. 

The second time, she picked up just before it was about to go to voicemail again. “Unless you have something worth sharing, go back to stamping paperwork with your ass or whatever it is you useless cops do all day.” 

“Pleased to hear your sweet voice too, Commander,” Ren drawled. 

Aelin rolled her eyes so hard he could practically hear it. “Say something worthwhile or shut up.” The rapid clicking of her keyboard in the background indicated that she was probably working on something very important. 

“Cairn Wilkins turned up dead.” 

“I know.” 

Ren blinked, his thoughts momentarily stalling. “He turned up dead on Galathynius property,” he continued. “Whitethorn got his dirty little hands on the bastard first, though.”

“I know,” Aelin repeated, her tone utterly dry. 

“How the hell–” 

“Wilkins’s worthless corpse turned up on my property.” She hadn’t stopped typing while they were talking. “Put two and two together, if you can, and deduce what happened. You’re a police captain, Westfall, aren’t you supposed to be good at figuring out this kind of shit?” Wry amusement laced her words. 

“You did it.” Ren grumbled a string of curses under his breath. 

“Not personally,” Aelin said offhandedly. “Not that I didn’t want to. Unfortunately, I have bigger and better things to do than finish off a worthless piece of shit who would have bled out anyway.” 

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Has anyone ever told you how goddamn impossible it is to have a productive conversation with you?” 

She snickered. “Actually, yes. You’re one of the few who’s said it this bluntly, though, and that’s part of the reason why you have this little job, Captain.” She pronounced his title with dripping sarcasm, a not-so-subtle reminder of what he was supposed to be doing. “Thanks for confirming that PD knows about Cairn’s, ah, untimely demise.” 

He could have sworn she was laughing. “So it wasn’t you?” 

“I’m assuming it was one of the trigger-happy guards that are on night patrol down at the warehouse.” She shrugged. “Like I said, he would’ve bled out anyway. A swift death was as much mercy as he was ever going to get.” 

As Ren hung up the phone and turned back to the endless stack of paperwork that came with posing as a police captain, he sighed yet again. He had to admit it: Aelin was right. Hearing that she herself hadn’t killed Wilkins, though…perhaps he could find something about the scene to distract Whitethorn from running off to tattle to his commanding officer. 

He pulled up the images of the crime scene, zooming in on the close-ups of Wilkins’s body. Knowing from experience that Aelin’s preferred method of finishing someone off was a slit throat, Ren examined the throat, and…well, that was interesting, indeed. He checked again, making sure he was actually seeing what was real and not deluding himself, saved copies of the close-up images, printed off a set of the photos, and strolled off to the investigative team’s meeting room. 

“Fucking hell,” Rowan seethed. “You better not have doctored the photos, Westfall, or I swear I’ll kill you myself.” 

“I’m a law-abiding citizen and a member of the police force,” Ren drawled, immensely satisfied by the way Rowan caught onto the implied insult and turned a surprising shade of crimson. “All I did was properly examine the images.” 

“I’m going to get confirmation from the morgue,” Rowan snapped. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the meeting room. Ren snickered. It was almost too easy. 

And when Rowan returned from the morgue with confirmation of what Ren had discovered in the photos, the look on his face was worth every second of verbal abuse Ren had had to deal with since that man joined the investigation. 

Cairn Wilkins had indeed been killed on Galathynius property, but his fatal wound was not the severed throat that had been the common thread linking all the other homicides and, coincidentally, was the notorious criminal Galathynius’s preferred method of disposing of victims. Rather, Wilkins had been shot through the throat. The state of his brutalized body was consistent with the string of tortured victims that Rowan firmly believed were Galathynius crimes, but the cause of death simply did not match. 

“Hope that isn’t too drastic of a factor,” Ren said calmly as he passed Rowan on his way out of the room. 

“Fuck off,” Rowan grunted. His jaw muscles pulsed rapidly; hell, his entire body was coiled with tension like a spring stretched to its maximum limit. 

Although he did enjoy testing the limits, Ren knew better than to push Rowan Whitethorn over the edge of that deadly anger. So he just offered a bland, smarmy smile and strolled back to his office, wondering what the hell would happen when Whitethorn inevitably crossed paths with Aelin.

~

A week before the Galathynius Inc. annual gala, Aelin paced across her living room, wearing a path into the expensive carpet despite not having any shoes on. Two pencils were haphazardly shoved into her messy updo, and she was about three seconds from screaming every swear word in every language she knew. 

“Are you fucking serious?” she half-yelled, ready to throw her phone at the nearest wall. “There’s only a week left!” 

“Lin, calm the fuck down.” Ansel ordered in her I’m-your-lawyer voice. “I visited the ballroom today to confirm that they weren’t bullshitting us. The whole goddamn building is flooded.” 

“Fuck,” Aelin groaned. “What the hell else could we possibly book?” 

“Elide’s already been on the phone with every other place on our list. So has the event planner, and everyone gave the same response. Booked out.” Ansel muttered a rather creative curse. “I’m looking into the last couple of options, but we might have to–”

“Wait.” Aelin’s gaze honed in on a framed photo of her parents that hung on her wall. The snapshot had captured Rhoe and Evalin in the middle of the gala, formal wear and everything, laughing at a private joke they were sharing. Brushing off the pang of grief she always felt when she saw reminders of her parents, Aelin focused on the background of the image. “They’re at the office,” she whispered, mostly to herself.” 

“The hell?” Ansel’s question jerked Aelin back to reality. 

“Don’t bother calling any other venues,” Aelin responded. “We can hold the gala at the office.”

“Um…”

“Thirtieth floor. It’s listed as a ‘multipurpose space’ but mostly used for random conference meetings or other big speeches. My parents held the gala there a few times when every other venue in Orynth was booked out.” 

Ansel sucked in a soft gasp. “That’s right. How’d we forget about that?” She started typing rapidly in the background. “Call Ells. I’ll call you back if I need anything.” She hung up. 

Aelin released a deep breath and called her right-hand woman. “Hey Ells, I’ve got us a solution.” 

“Please fucking share,” Elide grumbled. Aelin heard the telltale hiss of a can opening and knew her dear friend was probably cracking open a cider. “Every single fucking venue in this city is booked.” 

“We’re holding the gala at the office. Thirtieth floor.”

Elide swore quietly. “Why the fuck didn’t I remember that? Rhoe and Evalin held events there all the time.” 

“Slipped all of our minds.” Aelin pushed back the memories of her teenage self at those events. “I only remembered when I walked past the photos on my wall.” 

“Right, your whole decor is probably just photos of you and your family at that office,” Elide teased. 

Aelin rolled her eyes. “If I hadn’t been dragged along to every goddamn event Gal Inc hosted, we’d never have met, you know.” 

“I know.” Elide tapped on her iPad in the background. “Okay, I’m gonna talk to the caterers. Thanks, Ae.” 

“Call me if you need anything.” Aelin hung up and poured herself a generous glass of wine. Maybe she shouldn’t be relying on the alcohol after a long, exhausting day, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She did, however, limit herself to just one drink. 

She had to be sharp for her meeting that night, after all.

~

“N-no, I swear, I'm telling the truth!” The man’s voice cracked. 

Lounging in a comfortable chair with her booted feet propped casually on the desk, Aelin regarded the man sitting across from her with great disdain. Not speaking, she just lifted her hand and crooked two fingers, calling one of her men over. The huge, muscled, masked man chuckled darkly and flicked out a dagger with a soft zing. 

The man opposite Aelin shook with terror. “Pl-please, Boss.” 

Aelin arched an eyebrow. “Begging so soon, Tern?” 

“I don’t know anything,” he whimpered, cringing away from the knife. 

Aelin lifted her chin. Her guard grabbed the sniveling man, hauled him up by the collar, and let him squirm pointlessly in the air for a moment before setting him back into his chair and tying his arms and legs so he couldn’t wriggle away. He looked to Aelin for confirmation. “Boss?” 

She nodded.

“I–I haven’t–aaahhhh!” Tern screamed, thrashing futilely, as Aelin’s guard ripped open his shirt and sliced his dagger slowly down Tern’s right pectoral. 

Aelin clicked her tongue. “Pity to mess up such fine tattoo work. Vaughan is truly an artist.” She steepled her fingers, watching her guard work on Tern until the bloodied, bruised man relented. 

“S-st-stop,” he wheezed, spitting blood and a tooth onto the concrete floor. “I’ll tell you.” 

Standing, Aelin strolled around her desk and leaned on the front edge. “I knew you’d come around eventually.” She tipped her head, and her guard stepped back. “Speak, Tern.” 

He trembled. “It was Finn.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Tell me something I don’t already know.” 

“H-he did it himself, had me and a few other guys sneak onto the ship and kill or subdue the crew, then took over command. He was bragging about it for weeks.” Tern inhaled shakily. “Said he knew a woman couldn’t properly arm her shipments.” 

“Did he, now?” Aelin’s voice was lethally soft, dangerously controlled. 

“Yes.” 

“Fascinating.” She smiled softly. “It was very kind of you to tell me, Tern. Thank you.” 

He blinked in shock. “I–you–you’re welcome, Boss.” 

She patted his bleeding face with a gloved hand. “I hope you have a competent doctor; you’re going to need it.” With that, she sauntered away. 

Tern wheezed out a shaky sigh, but he couldn’t control the part of him that was a giant raging misogynist. “Bitch,” he whispered, thinking Aelin couldn’t hear. 

Bang.

“I thought you might say that,” Aelin mused, knocking the empty chamber out of her gun and holstering the weapon. She tipped her head towards Tern’s corpse. “Dump it.” 

“Sure thing, Boss,” her guard grunted. 

She left her gun in the warehouse’s weapons room, locked up, let herself out, and headed back to her shitty apartment down by the shipping district. It took her almost an hour to get there, thanks to the traffic accident blocking half of the freeway, and she was bone-tired by the time she finally slipped through the window and bolted it closed. Dragging herself to the bathroom, she stopped to glance in the mirror to check on her suit. 

Gods fucking damn it. There was blood staining the material again. 

After a quick shower, Aelin dumped her suit in the bathtub and filled the tub with water, laundry detergent, and some bleach. She left it to soak overnight and got herself into bed, falling into deep, exhausted sleep as soon as her head hit the pillows. In the morning, she’d deal with the damn suit.

In the morning, the damn suit was mostly clean, so she drained the tub, rinsed her suit, and wrung it out–a task that took far too long and made her swear violently. She’d have to call Nehemia and see if she could figure out a way to make the fabric less of a pain in the ass to clean. 

As she folded up the damp suit, Aelin’s fingers passed over what felt like a frayed spot. She frowned and held the suit up to the overhead light, searching for whatever she’d just felt. 

Fuck.

It wasn’t a frayed spot.

It was a tear. A tiny one, but still a tear. The suit’s material was supposed to be incredibly difficult to damage, which meant…

Fuck.

She could only hope that the torn scrap had come into Aedion’s hands, because if the police had it–or worse, if the TSF had it–that fabric would be the first piece of hard evidence linking Boss Aelin Galathynius to her crimes. 

~

“I shouldn’t be this jittery,” Aelin muttered, clasping her hands tightly together to stop herself from twisting her rings, the one and only nervous habit she had. “It’s just the gala, it happens every year.” 

“Lady.” Elide swept gracefully across the room, two tall glasses of champagne in her hands. “If you don’t stop quivering, I will kick your ass. Have a drink. Charm your guests. Stop fucking worrying.”

Gratefully, Aelin accepted one of the champagne glasses and took a long, long sip. “What would I do without you, Ells?” 

“Probably lose your damn wits,” Elide snarked, winking at her dear friend. “Now, please go over and chat with Cortland before I strangle you for ignoring our company’s newest acquired partner.” 

“As you wish.” Aelin drained the champagne, placed the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, and walked over to the Cortlands, who were making small talk with some of Aelin’s employees. 

Mark and Sam Cortland, the father and son duo who ran Cortland Advertising, had officially joined Galathynius Inc. just a few weeks ago after months and months of negotiations. The advertising company’s stock and profits had been tanking ever since a tabloid article supposedly exposed Sam’s affair with one of the interns. Aelin’s covert research had confirmed that the tabloid rumors were true, and she’d approached the company with an acquisition offer after letting them flounder in their sudden decline for a few months. Initially, of course, the Cortlands had been completely opposed to the idea of letting another company, especially one as potentially notorious as Galathynius, Inc., acquire them. But after Aelin had sat through a few weeks of pointless arguing, she simply dropped three printed photos onto the conference table and watched Sam squirm. 

That had been a very productive meeting. 

“Ms. Galathynius.” Noticing her approach, the elder Cortland welcomed her into the small knot of people, dipping his head at her. “Spectacular event, as always.” 

“Thank you.” She allowed a small, professional smile. Mark Cortland was a complete gentleman, refined and well-mannered, and she actually enjoyed working with him. Sam Cortland, though, was an entirely different story. 

“You look exquisite, Ms. Galathynius.” Right on cue, Sam had a compliment. He even went so far as to lift her hand towards his face for a kiss…until he caught sight of her icy expression and dropped her hand faster than a hot coal. 

“Sycophancy doesn’t become you, young Cortland,” Aelin said softly, just loud enough for the small circle of people to hear. A few of the others muffled snickers. “But thank you for confirming what my friends have already expressed.” Sam’s face flushed a gratifying shade of crimson, and he made a hasty excuse and strode for the bar. 

“Keep an eye on him,” the elder Cortland murmured to the man nearest him. “My apologies for my son’s behavior, Ms. Galathynius. He hasn’t yet adjusted to being someone’s subordinate.” 

“He will, in time,” Aelin reassured him. “If it helps, he can report to you, rather than to one of my employees. Perhaps he’ll still feel autonomous that way.” 

Cortland nodded. “We’ll see.” 

Aelin chatted with him and his colleagues for a few more minutes, her friendliness setting all of them at ease. She’d found that to be her best asset–showing a friendly face at public events. It helped reassure everyone, especially the company’s new additions, that she might be the intimidating CEO in the office, but she was perfectly approachable and had a sense of humor. She left Cortland and his colleagues with a promise of lunch soon and headed across the ballroom, picking up another glass of champagne as she passed a waiter. She flashed a thank-you smile at the young waiter, who couldn’t possibly be more than eighteen or nineteen, and chuckled to herself as his face turned pink. As she strolled towards Nox, she caught sight of a very familiar blonde head and reversed her steps. 

“Uncle,” she beamed, genuine joy on her face as she came up to Gavriel’s side. 

Gav beamed right back and hugged her briefly but affectionately. “You look just like your mother, Ae,” he murmured. “How are you?” 

Aelin had to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. “I’m just fine, Gav, so stop worrying.” Her lips curled into a genuine smile. “I’m a little sleep-deprived, but that tends to happen when you’re working on a major project.” 

“Please tell me you’ve been eating something that isn’t coffee,” Gav teased. 

She smacked his arm. “You’re impossible. Yes, of course I am. Elide bullies me into having real groceries in my fridge, you know.” 

“As she should.” He dodged her next swat, years of serving in Terrasen’s special forces having honed his reflexes. “Before you ask, Aedion’s working.” 

“Of course he is,” Aelin sighed. “I swear he works more than both of us combined.” 

“That he does,” her uncle agreed. “No matter how many times I try to convince him to leave the lab every once in a while, it’s like he doesn’t even hear me.” 

“We’re having lunch this week, so I can bully him then if you want.” 

“Please do.” Gav’s eyes crinkled with humor. “Tell that boy his father wants to see him, too.” 

Aelin laughed. “I might just have to let you take my place at lunch so you can bully him.” 

“I wouldn’t say no.” Gav squeezed Aelin’s free hand. “Oh, there’s someone I want you to meet.” 

“Another one of your rookies?” she teased. “Uncle, you bring one of the new guys every year, and every year I tell you to stop meddling in my love life.” 

He smirked, the expression pure Ashryver. “Hard to meddle in something that doesn’t exist, Aelin dear.” Before she could protest, he linked her arm through his and raised his other hand, crooking his fingers in a beckoning gesture. 

The most gorgeous man Aelin had ever seen strode up to Gav, lifting the chiseled line of his jaw in an effortless salute. She barely had any time to sweep an appreciative glance over his height, his muscles, his piercing green eyes, and the exquisitely tailored suit that accentuated his physique when he spoke, addressing her uncle.“Sir?” 

Just like that, ice shot through her heated blood. That voice. She knew the sound of that voice. She’d heard it over the Orynth PD radio. This man was the special forces officer on the investigation. 

Hmm. She could have…fun tonight after all. 

~

Rowan had been dreading the Galathynius, Inc. charity gala since the moment Gav informed him that he would be the second special forces guest that year. Apparently the TSF and Gal Inc. had some form of partnership that allowed Gav two invitations to the gala. Every year, Gav picked one of the newer soldiers to show off, probably so he could set the poor guy loose on the wealthy, lustful businesspeople who attended that kind of event. The idea of being smirked at and flirted with for hours on end made Rowan’s skin crawl. Not only would he have to wear a formal suit–which meant absolutely no weapons–but he had to stand around and smile and fucking chitchat with a roomful of complete strangers. The open bar was a blessing. Honestly, he’d been incredibly relieved when Gav motioned him over, drawing him away from an incredibly uncomfortable conversation (if one could call it that) with a platinum-blonde woman who wasn’t even trying to conceal that she wanted to get in his pants. 

“Sir?” He stifled the urge to perform a full salute and simply lifted his chin at his commander. 

The expression on Gav’s face was nothing short of meddlesome. “Rowan, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” His grin widened. “This is my niece, Aelin Galathynius. Aelin, dear, this is Lieutenant Rowan Whitethorn, Terrasen Special Forces.” 

Holy fucking shit.

Every single coherent thought vanished from Rowan’s brain as he stared into the completely stunning face of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the woman he was convinced was behind one of the biggest criminal outfits he’d ever encountered. He couldn’t stop his gaze from trailing down the elegant lines of her body, appreciating how the deep crimson silk of her formal dress molded to her subtle curves, the way one long, tanned leg peeked through a slit that was nearly indecent, the smoky makeup enhancing the brilliant turquoise of her eyes, and the lipstick that matched her dress perfectly. Lipstick Rowan suddenly had an uncontrollable urge to kiss off of her full, plush lips. 

Aelin arched one perfectly groomed blonde brow. “Does he talk?” she asked Gav–her uncle!–in a throaty, musical voice that had Rowan’s cock twitching in his pants. 

Gav chuckled. Actually chuckled. “Occasionally.” Say something, idiot, his eyes practically screamed. 

Rowan cleared his throat. “P–pleasure to meet you, Ms. Galathynius.” 

“Oh, the pleasure is entirely mine,” she purred, so much charisma thrumming in her tone that Rowan had to think up images of sad puppies to control his body’s reaction. Untucking her arm from Gav’s, she slid it into Rowan’s and shook his hand firmly, her skin soft against his rough calluses. “Where are you from, Lieutenant Whitethorn?” 

“Wendlyn,” he replied. “Trained at Doranelle before accepting the TSF offer.” 

“Impressive,” she hummed, and damn him straight to hell, the innuendo in her voice would be the death of him. “I’ve heard that the Doranellians are some of the best-trained soldiers in the world.” 

“You’ve heard correctly.” Gav grinned at his niece. “If you’ll excuse me, dear, I believe your chief of sales has been trying to subtly wave me over for the last ten minutes and is about to cause a scene if I don’t acknowledge her.” 

Aelin laughed softly, the musical sound sending sparks shooting down Rowan’s nerves. “Business calls,” she quipped, placing a kiss on Gav’s cheek. “I’m sure I can entertain Lieutenant Whitethorn while you have a boring conversation with someone else, Uncle.” Gav smirked and left, walking over to a woman who must have been one of Aelin’s colleagues, leaving Rowan and Aelin alone. Together. 

“Well.” Aelin turned the full force of her bone-melting smile onto Rowan, and gods burn him, he was helpless against such power. “Can I get you a drink, Lieutenant?” 

“Please,” he grumbled before he could stop himself. “Gods, I’m sorry, I’ve just never been that comfortable at…this kind of event.” 

She flashed him a conspiratorial smirk. “Too much bullshit?” 

If he’d been attracted to her initially, he was completely head over heels for her now. “You get it.” 

“Of course I do,” she snorted. “I’ve been coming to business events since I was fourteen–perils of having ambitious parents, I guess. Well, I certainly learned how to survive a gala: have an open bar.” She led him over to the bar and waved at the bartender. “A little boost, Owens?” 

“Sure thing, ma’am.” The bartender grabbed two shot glasses, poured a measure of whiskey into each glass, and slid them across the bartop. 

Rowan picked up his glass and held it up to the lamp, admiring the rich golden-amber color of the whiskey. It looked like a damn expensive brand, and with that look, it was probably worth every dollar of its price. He tasted the liquor and his eyes went wide. “Damn.” 

Aelin’s brows raised. “Was that a good or bad damn, Whitethorn?” Behind the bar, the bartender let out a wheeze, covering it rapidly with a soft cough. 

Rowan rolled the whiskey around on his tongue. “Good. Definitely good.” He clinked his shot glass against hers and downed the fine liquor in one go, almost regretful to take it like a shot. Whiskey this good deserved to be sipped. To his shock, Aelin drained her shot in one go as well, barely even blinking as the liquid burned down her throat. 

The whiskey warmed Rowan’s blood enough for him to crack a smirk. “If we were anywhere else, Ms. Galathynius, I’d have to buy you another drink.” 

The grin she gave him in return was nothing short of sensual. “If we were anywhere else, Lieutenant Whitethorn, I just might say yes.” 

Fucking hell. He was in such deep shit. 

~

Aelin talked with Rowan for another few minutes at the bar, covertly gesturing at Nox to keep the whiskey coming, and eventually let him go off to find Gav after several more shots. She couldn’t muffle her satisfied little smirk as she watched the supposedly unflappable lieutenant stumble once and quickly catch his balance. Clearly, her little scheme to get the fearsome lieutenant a little tipsy had worked. 

“You are an evil, brilliant woman,” Nox muttered as he collected the shot glasses. 

She flashed him a deadly smirk. “And you controlled yourself surprisingly well when I said Whitethorn’s name. I was expecting at least one broken glass.” 

He snorted. “If I was anyone else, I’d have dropped the fuckin’ bottle. Dunno whether to be terrified or excited that he’s here, though.” 

“A little bit of both.” Aelin drained the small glass of water Nox had given her and stood up. “Thanks for the drinks, Owens.” 

“Anytime, ma’am.” He winked at her. “Anytime.” 

In her periphery, Aelin noticed Ansel covertly gesturing at her, so she headed over to meet the redheaded attorney, who corralled her into a small knot of men talking in low voices. One of those men was none other than Archer Finn, CEO of Finn’s Imports, LLC. His little shipping company had recently developed an…interest in Aelin’s shipments–or, as the rest of the world called it, piracy. 

“Ms. Galathynius.” Ever debonair, Archer stepped to her side. “May I have a dance?” 

“Of course,” she replied, accepting his hand and accompanying him onto the dance floor. He was a competent partner, if not particularly skilled at masking his surprise when she dropped the news. “How has the business been lately? I’ve heard you unexpectedly lost a few vessels.” 

His short, tight inhale confirmed what she suspected, but his voice was even. “You know how unpredictable the weather at sea can be, I’m sure.” 

“Indeed.” She clicked her tongue softly, using the slow spin he guided her through to slightly tilt her upper body, drawing Archer’s very male attention to the deep V-neck of her formal dress. “I’ve had shipments damaged by storms as well. Truly unfortunate.” 

“Quite.” His eyes narrowed into a cunning, if lascivious, expression. “I wonder, though, if it would benefit a leader such as yourself to contract more than one importer, lest you put all your eggs in one basket.” 

It was almost too easy. “What a novel suggestion,” she purred, lacing her tone with just enough sarcasm that Archer wouldn’t realize she was mocking him. “You’re offering me a partnership.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I believe Finn Imports and Galathynius, Inc. would mutually benefit from an alliance.” Clever of him to word it like that. Archer Finn shipped drugs and arms to a sizable number of Erilea’s biggest crime rings–or he had, until a series of unfortunate, unsolved murders destabilized most of the outfits. 

Aelin hummed softly, pretending to mull over the proposal, and swayed with the dance just enough for her toned leg to flash through the slit in her skirt. “Perhaps we could.” 

Archer swept a brazen gaze down her body. Asshole. “Let’s set a meeting, then. Monday? I have a handful of openings in my schedule.” 

Aelin refused to shudder beneath the badly disguised lust in his lecherous gaze. “I believe we could expedite the process of our alliance if you present your terms now, rather than later. My meeting schedule tends to be booked out weeks in advance.” 

“Spoken like a true savant.” The fool couldn’t even recognize a veiled insult. “I’m offering to import fifty percent of your Kingsflame deliveries and thirty to fifty percent of your Gal Tech deliveries, and of course, I know how to be discreet.” He smirked. “As for compensation, I believe fifteen percent would be reasonable.” 

“Fifteen percent of net profit, or fifteen percent of gross profit?” 

He couldn’t mask the avarice that was his guiding characteristic. “Gross profit. However, I’m also willing to distribute a portion of the deliveries at no additional cost.” 

“Hmm.” Aelin pretended to consider his outright robbery of an offer. “Ten percent.” 

“Ten percent profit?” 

“No. Ten percent of my Kingsflame and tech deliveries.” She squeezed his hand tightly before he could protest, shutting him up. “Ten percent…to begin. If you can demonstrate your competence after an initial trial period, we can negotiate increasing that amount.” 

He nodded slowly, seeing her logic. “How long would the trial period last?” 

“Four to eight weeks, depending on how frequent my shipments would be.” 

“And are you willing to accept a fifteen percent compensation?” 

She smothered her snicker. He really was predictable. “I believe it would be wise to set the compensation rate in proportion to the percentage of goods you import. For example, if you import ten percent of the Kingsflame shipments, you receive five percent of gross profit. If you import twenty percent, you receive ten percent. And so on.” 

Archer ran the calculations in his head, clearly entranced by the prospect of the immense wealth a deal with Galathynius could bring him. “Agreed. On all terms.” 

“Excellent.” She flashed him a professional smile. “My attorney will set up a meeting with you so we can sign the necessary paperwork.” The song drew to a close, and she stepped back from Archer, dipping her head in the customary gesture of appreciation for a dance. “I look forward to our partnership, I truly do.” She couldn’t control the wicked, steel-edged smirk that edged across her crimson lips.

Aelin turned away from Archer, her mind already clicking pieces into place for the “partnership” with Finn Imports. She fully intended to sneak back to the bar and have a drink of water, if not something stronger, but before she could step away from the dancefloor, a broad, callused hand landed on her waist, and she found herself in the arms of Lieutenant Rowan Whitethorn. 

“May I?” he murmured, his voice thick and a little slurred, eyes bright with the effects of the whiskey he’d drunk earlier. 

“Of course.” She rested one hand on his shoulder–even in six-inch heels, she had to raise her hand to his shoulder–and placed her other hand in his. “I’ll try not to step on you, Lieutenant, since my shoes might cause some damage.” The music started again, and he led her into a dance with more grace than a probably drunk person should have.

His low, rumbling laugh was something straight out of her nighttime fantasies. “Those heels prob’ly hurt you worse than anyone else, don’t they?” 

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Beauty is pain, though.” 

“Bullshit.” His whiskey-bright eyes, the exact color of evergreen forests, lingered on her face, dipping to her crimson-painted lips. “’Cuz you’re beautiful, not painful.” He blinked. “Wait. That made no–what did I say?” 

Aelin snorted a laugh. “I believe you called me beautiful.” 

“That I did.” Rowan’s guiding hand on her waist pressed her closer, until they were sharing breath. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Ms. Galathynius.” 

“Please, call me Aelin.”

“Aelin,” he repeated, and gods, the way her blood sparked at the sound of her name on his tongue. “Call me Rowan, then.” 

“Rowan,” she murmured, lowering her lashes in a demure manner she knew drove men wild. 

“Stunning,” he whispered, his gaze meandering down her form and back up to her lips. 

She smiled, more appreciative of his compliment than any other platitude she’d been offered that night, because his was genuine. It probably came from liquid courage, but it was genuine nonetheless. “You clean up rather well for a soldier, yourself.” 

He grinned, a brilliant flash of teeth that lit his face with youthful joy. “Soldiers have to dress up sometimes, too, Miss CEO.” As the music built higher, he spun her outward, keeping a delicate hold of her fingers. 

Aelin took that opportunity to slip out of his grasp and exit the dancefloor. 

She made it all the way into the quiet hallway that led to the bathrooms before Rowan caught up with her, the wintry scent of his cologne tickling her nostrils. “That was surprisingly fast for a drunk man,” she teased. 

“I’m not drunk, Aelin,” Rowan mumbled, his voice a deep, velvet caress. Those stupidly huge hands of his wrapped around her waist again, backing her gently against the wall. 

“Oh?” She raised one eyebrow. “Then why didn’t you see this, Rowan darling?” With that, she sidestepped him, ducking into a short, shadowed side hallway. He stayed right behind her, catching her again as soon as they were both in the quiet, darkened space. Tilting up her head, she caught his eyes in the shadows and smirked. For a moment, their breaths were the only sound in the space, the only thing passing through the tension that crackled between the two of them. 

Then Rowan sank one hand into her hair and crashed his lips into hers. 

Aelin melted her body against the hard, muscular planes of his, caught his jacket’s lapels, and dragged him closer as she let her lips fall open, deepening the kiss. Fuck, the man kissed like a god, his lips warm and soft, his tongue tangled with hers in the most delicious way. Desperate for a breath, she broke away, tipping her head back to draw in a lungful of fresh air, and he took that opportunity to press his deviously talented lips against her throat, sending a shudder racing down her spine. Stifling the moan that threatened to escape, she threaded her fingers into his cropped hair and tugged him back to her lips, kissing him deeply, hungrily. 

He broke the kiss after an eternal moment, his chest heaving as he practically gasped for breath, clearly just as wrecked by the kiss as she was. Despite the alcohol she could taste on his lips, he didn’t falter once as he whispered her name, his voice hoarse with barely-concealed desire and a hundred other emotions she wouldn’t name. “Aelin.” 

That desire–the desire of the man who was trying to put her behind bars–was like a bucket of icy water dousing her simmering lust. She slipped his grasp and darted away, ducking into a secret hallway that she knew was nearby. She waited there for a few minutes, hands pressed over her mouth to keep Rowan from hearing her shuddering breaths, until his footsteps faded away into the distance. Then, she steeled herself, straightened her spine, and pressed her thumb into the hidden keypad that was next to her, opening a concealed door with a muted click and heading down the hidden hallway to her private exit. 

~

Rowan didn’t remember anything after his and Aelin’s kiss, the kiss that shook him to his very core. He’d been too stunned to chase her when she disappeared, and in the space of the twenty seconds it took him to recover his breath and try to follow her, she was gone. 

He didn’t remember walking back to the gala, his head spinning with alcohol and Aelin’s kiss. He didn’t remember heading straight for the bar and downing another few drinks. He barely remembered making his excuses to Gav and getting the hell out of the gala before he could do anything stupid like tear apart every floor of the building looking for Aelin. 

In a hazy, alcohol-blurred fog, Rowan made it back to the barracks, stripped out of his suit, and collapsed into his bed. Sleep claimed him in minutes. 

When he woke up, bright sunlight hit him full in the face, and he buried his face back into his pillow, groaning. Fuck, it was too much. Too bright. His head was heavier than a wheelbarrow full of bricks and foggier than a San Francisco morning. 

Someone snickered from his left. “Long night, Whitethorn?” 

“Fuck you,” Rowan grunted into his pillow, flipping his middle finger at the jackass who dared to comment on his rough appearance. 

Lorcan mercilessly ripped the pillow out of Rowan’s arms and snickered some more. “Get your ass out of bed, Lieutenant Hungover. There’s water and ibuprofen on your nightstand. Commander won’t wait forever to see you, y’know.” 

“Bastard,” Rowan grumbled. He rolled over, grabbed the water and medicine, downed both, and forced himself to sit up and reach for the fatigues that he always kept in a neatly folded stack on the shelf of his nightstand. As he pulled on his shirt, a coherent thought broke through the foggy mess of his brain. “Salvaterre?” 

“What.” 

“Why does Gav want me?” 

Lorcan shrugged. “Fuck if I know. He sent me to get your drunk ass out of bed right after morning briefing, said he needs you in his office as soon as you can stand up.” 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a jackass?” Rowan rolled his eyes. 

“You do, every day.” Lorcan smirked and threw Rowan a mocking salute.

“Oh, fuck off!” Rowan yelled as Lorcan left the room. Muttering under his breath, he quickly finished getting dressed, strapped his Kevlar vest on, and chugged another glass of water before leaving his room and going upstairs to face the commander. 

Gav was about as welcoming as a wall of bricks. “Whitethorn,” he said flatly when Rowan walked into his office. “Nice to see you up and about so early.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. 

Rowan saluted sharply and said nothing, his lips flattened into a firm line. 

His commander returned the flat stare. “Do you know what day it is, Whitethorn?” 

“Saturday, sir.” 

Gav scoffed. “Today is Saturday, February 28, Whitethorn. You know what that means.” 

Fuck. It was the last day of February. And Rowan was not even a single inch closer to the proof he’d promised his commander he’d be able to gather. Not after the--gods fucking dammit.

That kiss…Aelin had thrown his previously set theories into scrambled chaos. 

“Dismissed.” Gav turned his attention back to the paperwork piled atop his desk. “Clock’s ticking, Whitethorn.”

~~~

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#my writing #until proven guilty #criminal/investigator au #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin the crime boss au #crime boss aelin x investigator rowan #tw: violence

[theostrophywife]

so like i said i am currently reading tog starting with the assassin’s blade and here are my thoughts so far:

celeana is truly THAT bitch

arobynn and rolfe are musty

i really like sam (hahaha pain)

#jess reads tog #i’ll probably make a separate post for each book #library: the assassin's blade

[sarahnotjmaas]

Here it is, my chaotic note taking as I experienced Queen of Shadows 4.5/5⭐️

I do not trust Arobynn. Why does this woman keep working with this man.

Who is with Chaol?? SHE!?!?

I heard the fandom is full of Chaol haters and tbh I don’t get it. I’m only on the 5th book but not seeing it yet

Chaol is kinda dumb haha and super sensitive and 5 books in has yet to prove he can fight like at all. He killed Cain but it was a single strike and that was like his first kill. Ever.

SJM wouldn’t write another tragic love story right!? Cuz Chaol is in need of character building and Nesryn and him are already giving me Dorian and Sorscha vibes.

Listen in SJM books endgame relationships are slow burbs. They have chemistry to quickly

HE PAWNED THE RING???

Kaltain has a collar too!!

Dorian battling for his life with that demon 😭

Aelin, we’re officially calling her Aelin now, is wasting her time with Arobynn she is capable without he’s gonna double cross her I know it

Her showing up to the shadow markets was dope!

When is Manon gonna for something cool. She has an awesome dragon puppy Abraxos and she’s doing nothing. Low key I love Asterin and she clearly has her back so demoting her was a bitch move

This book has more action, I like it

Sneaking into the party as a dancer, nice.

The smoke, very Harry Potter! I could see this scene so vividly in my head

Chaol is being a jerk a little bit. He acts like the whole rebellion isn’t for Aelin. When you start holding your own then you can talk, Mr. I’ve only ever killed one person, otherwise stop bossing Aelin around……

Oh shit Elide is a witch. So she’s in with the witches meaning when she links back up with her childhood homies Aedion and Aelin they will be a steaming pile of shit in the kings bed! Hell yea

When does Rowan come back 😭oh okay

27 chapters lol

I read pine and snow and my heart fluttered

No she made a bath for him with all her fancy soaps!!! BECAUSE SHE YELLED AT SAM FOR USING THEM!!!!!!

Gavriel is Aedion’s father!?!???

Oh no poor Aedion, the blood oath was sworn to him but also…. Why can’t she have both she’s the queen she can make her own rules

THE NIGHTGOWN!!!!! She better get a fucking good night gown i stg!!

My boy Chaol is BITTER! Damn he fucked up in the second book and is gonna be bitter the rest of the series. He’s giving big soft boy energy. #NiceGuysFinishLast lol but I low key still want the best for him. He’s loyal to Dorian at the end of the day. Period. However if he’s trying to free Dorian doesn’t he think giving him full access to his powers might help him beat that demon in his body… just saying

Rowan’s and Aelin are literally dating

Going to Sam’s grave. Having Rowan go with her😭 I’m welling up it’s too much. I fucking hate Arobynn and it better be the sweetest death cuz I hate him so much

So I’m definitely not a fan of the witch maternity prison ward that’s happening. Everything about that is uncomfy and I need it to end immediately. Asterin seems to be the only sane one.

Rowan wearing the almost oil, power move!

No, not the room where she saw Sam’s mangled body😭HE PUT THE RING ON HER FINGER!!! Is she faking it??I knew it lol wait but why did he say don’t touch me like that 😭well good for Lysandra I guess

This book is an emotional rollercoaster

There is something SO sus about her Manons grandma. She bowed to the king!?!?!? What’s in the trailer?? What did Manon see??????

Hold up!!! The King is just another victim!?!? No fucking way!!!! That’s a twist I didn’t expect

ALL THOSE CENTURIES, I WAS JUST LOOKING FOR YOU fuck me up Rowan 😭

Slamming the door on Aedion’s face was a little rude but his timing is awful. Wait Lysandra and Aedion???? Love that, that’s fierce pair

Still not a Chaol hater and the trio of friendship between Aelin, Dorian and Chaol is so sweet. Is Chaol ever gonna find a woman he lives as much as Dorian lol CHAOL IS PARALYZED!?!? He broke his promise to Nesry cuz he can’t walk! I’m screaming “Let’s have an adventure,Nesryn Faliq” okay cute but am I alone in thinking Chaol needs someone meeker?? Like someone softer because I think nesryn is too much woman for him…….kinda (don’t come for me)

I never know what part of an SJM book will make me cry but making Lysandra a lady and having Evangeline be her heir got me actually tearing up!

Manon and Dorian. MANON AND DORIAN!!!!!!

Crying again cuz Rowan smells like Terrasen!

#queen of shadows #sarah j maas #sjm #throne of glass #heir of fire #aelin galythinius #celaena sardothien #chaol westfall #dorian havilliard #rowan whitethorn #manon blackbeak #elide lochan #abraxos #nesryn faliq #lysandra #fleetfoot #tog

[lizzybugg]

Currently reading Queen of Shadows. And I’m learning that Aelin has tons of nicknames. My current favorite, as first said by Arobynn Hamel, is “fire-breathing-bitch-queen”. Pardon my French, cause I don’t usually curse, but it had to be quoted. Aelin is life. Chaol annoys me. And Rowan and Aedion are such territorial Fae wannabes that it’s making me die with laughter.

Until the next episode of “What is Lizzy Reading?”.

#books #adventure #fantasy #action #queen of shadows #aelin galythinius #fire breathing bitch queen #I have such an awesome list of quotes #Aedion is probably my favorite

[silkiemae]

Queen of Shadows by Sarah J Maas

My Rating: 3.25/5

So, the funny thing for the last three books, I was getting so annoyed with Celaena for claiming to be the world’s greatest assassin who doesn’t actually kill anyone. She kept letting everyone escape and basically being the exact opposite of what she claimed to be. Well, in QoS, Celaena is dead, and now Aelin Galathynius has come to take her place. She’s finally accepted her role and has completely flipped her ENTIRE personality. She went from not killing anyone to killing literally everyone or at least threatening to kill them. And the thing that disappoints me the most is that we don’t get to see much of those scenes where Aelin is supposed to be formidable and badass and killing people. SJM has reverted to the ‘she sliced and stabbed and spun and twirled’ way of writing fight scenes, and I am underwhelmed. I can’t picture a fight scene when the characters are described as just a blur of motion. I like to imagine how it’s actually happening. What technique of fighting does Aelin use? We got all these short stories talking about the various training she’s had; I’d like actually to see it used! Maybe I’m being ridiculous wanting something like that in this book, but if you write about a character who’s a renowned fighter, I expect to read some well-thought-out action scenes. 

There were so many names thrown at me in this book, and I completely forgot who everyone was. I had no idea that Chaol had a previous lover before Celaena, like completely forgot about it. I forgot who Elide and Marion were. I forgot who Ress and Brullo were. I forgot who Gavriel and Ren were. These characters were so inconsequential in the other books that they just did not register in my mind as characters of any importance. 

It was cool seeing some of the callbacks from The Assassin’s Blade when Aelin interacted with Arobynn. I liked that Aelin and Lysandra put aside their differences and became friends. I thought Celaena was being a big dumb bitch in Assassin’s Blade for judging Lysandra so much. Like you’re essentially in the exact same situation, but one of you murders for money, and the other has to sell her body. Celaena had no cause to be such an asshole to her except that Lysandra was a threat to her standing with the men in her life. She later claims that Arobynn warped her perspective of Lysandra, but that’s not how it came across in Assassin’s Blade. It simply came off that she was jealous. Jealous and petty, and now she doesn’t care? Idk, whatever. Celaena’s judgment of sex workers was not cute; I didn’t like it. I also was very disappointed with how Arobynn was killed off. It felt just as underwhelming as all the fight scenes in this book. While I agree that Lysandra should be the one to do it, I wanted Aelin to have more of a hand in it, considering everything he did to her. Like I wanted him to suffer more. I also thought they were idiots for not expecting Arobynn to know that Lysandra was going behind his back. He knew literally everything else that was going on; why would he miss this one thing? They should’ve protected Lysandra after killing him, not made her go off back to the brothel owner. Aelin should’ve immediately paid off her debts, not waited until Lysandra got kidnapped and beaten before doing it. She had the money, and they were even having a whole convo about Lysandra still being in debt. Why didn’t Aelin say, ‘hey, I’ll cover it’ as she did for Sam???

Chaol and Aelin annoy the living hell out of me. I’m tired of their stupid petty fights. Chaol being all ridiculous and prejudiced against Aelin for being a murderer and having magic is tiresome. He knew from day one who she was. He knew the minute they got her out of Endovier that she was an assassin who had murdered people. As much as it seemed like The Greatest Assassin was just a title she gave herself but with no real actual standing, Chaol shouldn’t be surprised when it turns out that she actually has no qualms about killing people. Personally, I think he’s a little ridiculous for judging her considering he was the Captain of the Guard who literally was willingly serving a man who enslaved and massacred people. He gets so mad at Aelin for wanting to kill Dorian because he believes that the prince is still in there but doesn’t reserve that same care for any of the other men possessed by Valg demons. He has absolutely no qualms about killing them. At the same time, Aelin’s judgment of Chaol is also ridiculous and undeserved. She was not there when Dorian lost Sorscha and exploded. She was not there when Aedion was imprisoned, and Chaol had no other options. So she had literally no room to speak. Chaol doesn’t have a magic firepower that can blast everyone in the room. He’s just an average Joe. All he could do was run. 

Also, her just being willing to kill Dorian instantly without discussing anything with Chaol really irks me. Like one of the biggest issues these people have is a lack of communication. If ya’ll would just sit down and have a conversation with one another without getting all stuck in your stupid explosive asshole, then maybe you could come to a calm decision on what to do about things. When Aelin almost chops Dorian's head off and then willingly goes into the castle pretending to bring Chaol as her partner, I was like…there’s no way she’s this dumb. How did she not expect to get recognized? She’s been there for so long at this point she literally looked Dorian in his face and spoke to him. How could she be so stupid as to think the king wouldn’t know who she was?

Is it just me, or does Aedion behave like he wants to fuck his cousin? Like, bro, why are you smelling her so much? He calls her a golden-haired blessing. Says his heart has been shredded yearning for her. He and Rowan keep getting into weird territorial staring contests over Aelin. Like listen, I get it, they were very close, she’s the last family he has left or something and like she’s his queen. But, like bro, you are THIRSTING after your cousin extremely hard. It’s UNCOMFY. 

Some of the world-building is cool, and some of it just makes me mad lol. Like the witches gaining the ability to fly after their first bleeding??? What does bleeding have to do with the ability to fly? I really have never been a fan of power being tied in with menstruation or virginity. It’s like, please, just let them be powerful without having to connect it to their ‘women-hood’…like what purpose does it serve? I really didn’t vibe with the witches being forced to breed with the Valg demons; I know the Yellowlegs volunteered initially, but uh…that whole thing was disturbing. There seems to be a strange trend with forced breeding in SJM’s series, and I am not here for it. 

Also, is it weird that I kind of shipped Elide and Manon? Like…that had the potential to be a really good romance. Manon like adopting her into her clan and then rescuing her. Like please, give me this. I just know it’s never going to happen. Just like my ship of Yrene and Aelin will never happen, but…a girl can dream. 

It got really old listening to Rowan and Aelin jerk off over one another. It just goes on and on about how hot and muscular Rowan is and how he’s the most powerful fae male alive and then goes on and on about how beautiful and deadly Aelin is and how she’s the deadliest assassin alive, but I have yet to really see any of that. Like I’m sorry, to quote GOT, ‘Any man who must say I am the king is no true king.’ Anyone who has to keep announcing that they’re the strongest person in the room will never convince me that they’re the strongest person in the room. It reads like a whole lot of posturing, and I’m embarrassed by Aelin 99% of the time. She went from reasonably struggling in a fight to barely having any issues at all when fighting Valg demons in her human form. She’s lost all her fae abilities, yet she is easily slaughtering Valg demons left and right when Cain nearly annihilated her a few books ago. Sure she wasn’t in as good of shape back then, but she still does not have anywhere near the strength those Valg demons more than likely do while in her human form. 

In regards to Rowan and Aelin’s relationship…I DON’T BUY IT. They went from being frenemies to warrior pals to suddenly romantic partners? The lead up to the romance did not progress naturally at all. It felt shoved in my face and like it came out of nowhere. In the last book, I actually thought SJM did a decent job of making their progression from enemies to friends pretty believable, but now it feels ruined by this sudden romance. It’s not convincing at all. SJM would have a better time convincing me that Lysandra and Aelin were interested in one another. Honestly, if it came out that Aedion wanted to fuck his cousin, I would not be surprised. Aedion also seemed like he wanted to bone Rowan too. 

The last fifteen percent of this book was the most exciting part, but I also really didn’t like it and wished things panned out much differently. I think the usage of the replica jewelry was overdone, and every time you think someone is betraying someone else by giving them the special jewel, I already knew that it was just a replica. I did think it was clever of Aelin to put that ring on Dorian to save him. I liked that whole bit. I thought it was a little ridiculous that no one ever came to the conclusion that the king was also probably possessed by demons and were all shocked and disbelieving when he told them the truth. I think Dorian destroying the castle when there were still people inside was…ridiculous. Chaol's survival was also ridiculous. He should’ve died back in Crown of Midnight. What purpose does he even serve in this book? Aelin plotting and planning for 600 pages to free magic and free the slaves only to threaten to murder anyone felt very contrived. Like, I know you’re trying to be like Khaleesi super hard, but her dialogue was at least very empowering. Aelin says nothing cool here. She just is like listen if you fuck up, I will kill you. Here are some very unoriginal threats that have been used about twenty times throughout this book already. I will burn you to ash, I will rip your throat out, I will gut you, etc. Unfortunately, SJM does not excel in writing stand-out dialogue.

SJM also has a habit of repeating certain phrases over and over again to the point where when I see these phrases, I have a violent reaction. Like please, I beg of you, stop using the phrase ‘gobbling up’ to describe someone looking at something or reading a book. It makes me want to die. Also, if I have to hear music being referred to as ‘bawdy’ again, I am going to throw myself off a cliff. ‘He said softly, but not weakly.’ ???? The way she uses the word ‘rutting’ as a swear sends me over the edge. 

What are midnight thoughts? How does one become a midnight storm? What does midnight softness sound like? A midnight caress??? 

Anyway, to sum up. Chaol should have died. I wish Manon fell in love with Dorian while the demon was possessing him and it was a super twisted fucked up dark romance. At the same time I also wish that Manon and Elide hooked up. Aedion needs therapy. Aelin needs to chill. Rowan also needs to chill. Lysandra is the only one I like at this point.

#Sarah j maas #queen of shadows #throne of glass #book review #book worm

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Undercover- Throne of Glass AU (3)

Here we have a new chap! Got a little bit dark in this one? I mean not extremely but there are subtle hints to things.

Warnings: Swearing, violence and there is torture in this- it’s not descriptive but fair warning. I’ll update these as the story progresses.

Undercover Masterlist.

Full Masterlist.

—————

The house was wrecked. A total shit show. Pictures had fallen from the walls, broken glass vases were scattered across the floor and when Aelin stepped into the hall fully, there was blood spattered in various places. There was a crunch under her boot as she made for the stairs and looking down she was standing on a photo. It was the day Chaol and Yrene had told everyone about the baby; Chaol had taken it, everyone surrounding his wife with faces full of joy and happy tears. The rage that she had managed to tamper came back to the surface as she shouted, “Chaol!”

“Up here boss!”

Before she went to them she addressed the rest of the group, “Lochan, Salvaterre, Blackbeak and the Twins, I want the house checked from top to bottom. Nothing goes overlooked. The rest of you are with me.”

She was taking the stairs two at a time before anyone even had a chance to respond, but they would do what was asked of them. Walking through the door to the master bedroom, part of Aelin wanted to cry at the sight, but she held herself in check. Yrene was sat in bed, leaning against the headboard, small cuts on her cheek and her eye was beginning to bruise but what got to Aelin the most was the shaking of the other woman’s hands, which were covered in blood.  When Yrene saw them in the doorway she gave a small smile, trying to show that she was alright. “Hey, the cavalry's here.”

“Are you both alright?” It was Dorian who asked but Aelin didn’t berate him for overstepping, his best friend’s home was attacked and she was surprised he hadn’t lost his shit yet.

Chaol answered while gently cleaning off his wife’s hands. “We’re okay, Dor,” the man being addressed let out a relieved sigh at the words, “Yrene is just a little shaken up.”

Aelin knew why, gods how she knew. The first time you ever end a life, it takes something from you that you can never get back, leaving a dark spot on your soul that haunts you from then onwards. But if she could get her to talk about it, help Yrene justify why she had to do it, why it was the only choice she could make in that moment, then it might take away some of the guilt. “Chaol said you took two of them out.” She watched as the woman breathed in and out a few times before she made eye contact.

“I’m sorry boss. You always want them alive when things like this happen but they had me cornered and they said things about the baby. They were, they were goi-” She stopped talking as she let out a choked sob, her hands moving to hold her swollen stomach where that little miracle was growing. Before Aelin could say that it didn’t matter, that she was proud, that Yrene did what she had to protect her family, Gavriel’s low voice sounded from behind her.

“If you’d like, I can check everything with the baby is alright, Mrs. Westfall. I’m very well trained and I assume you have things I can use. Unless of course, you’d like to take her to a hospital, Ma’am?” Aelin couldn’t take her to a hospital this time, not with the cuts and bruises, it would start raising questions and she didn’t have the time to threaten a bunch of prying doctors.

“Thank you, we’ll get her back to the house first, we have our own little infirmary. Get your stuff packed, you’ll be at the big house until further notice. Now, where are the three that were left alive?”

If people wanted to start going after her family, then they were going to have to deal with the consequences.

oOoOo

Sometimes, people always told the story where there were two wolves living inside of you, fighting with each other. Rowan had never really believed in the bullshit until now, watching Sardothien circle three men menacingly, knife in one hand and a gun in the other, as if she was debating which she’d prefer. The agent in him was screaming at him to stop this, arrest her now, but the other was laughing like the devil, telling him that they deserved it for going after a pregnant woman, a child. But all he could do was watch and listen as the smile on her face grew into something quite sickening.

“You see boys, you clearly know who I am as you’re in the home of two of my people, but clearly you underestimated what you were up against.” Her voice was cold and dead as if she didn’t have any emotions, as if she wasn’t even a fucking person.  The only people in the room were Sardothien, Lochan, Blackbeak, Havilliard and himself. The house had been checked and there was nothing for them to find. Blackbeak had a manic grin on her face, same as her boss, like she couldn’t wait to get her hands on the pieces of shit, Havilliard was quietly seething on Rowan’s left side but as for Lochan, there was a mask she’d put on since they left and hour earlier and it hadn’t broken once. He’d never outwardly show it, but secretly part of him was terrified of them all.

“All you have to do is tell me everything I want to know and I’ll let you live.” Rowan assessed the three men tied to the chair before him, looking for any tells about them, when the one on the right caught his eye. Built the same as he and Lorcan, you’d think the man wouldn’t have been taken captive so easily. He was the only one glaring daggers into Celaena’s skull with a slight curl to his lip, and his fingers were twitching as though he was desperate to feel a weapon in his hands. Looks like someone held a grudge, which meant he had more information than the other two would and if there was a bigger mind behind all of this, then he was probably the most trusted. Praying that he wouldn’t put his foot in it this early into the mission, he risked speaking up.

“That one boss,” he nodded his head in the direction of his chosen target, “he doesn’t seem to like you very much whereas the other two look like they’re about to piss in their pants from you just being in the room. I wager he’s got something of interest for you.” The long feared Assassin Queen eyed him slowly, a fire in her turquoise eyes that he’d never seen before, and then turned to look at the raging man in the chair. A condescending laugh left her and recognition flashed across her face.

“I know you. You’re one of Arobynn’s little bitches. So that answers my question as to who sent you. But why you in particular? You always were useless and disobedient, I mean, how many times were disciplined for still touching even after you were told no?” Blackbeak went deathly still at the insinuation, which clearly meant there was quite a dark back-story there. Rowan knew the name, Arobynn Hamel was the man Celaena worked for before she managed to become the most feared woman in London, the man who had ‘owned’ her, or so he liked to believe. If it really was him behind this then it could escalate into a gang war quite quickly, hindering Rowan and the Cadre’s mission severely. It wouldn’t be awful he supposed, killing two birds with one stone and all that. He came back to himself when the man spat on Sardothien’s boots.

“And you were always the favourite, you ungrateful little wench. He gave you everything and you turned your back on him in an instant. Could have reigned over London side by side, but you couldn’t see what was right in front of you.” Rowan watched as she tensed up but only for a second before her body eased, that sadistic smile never left her face though. There was nothing in their files at the agency about such a relationship between the two, but he knew Arobynn liked to take in kids off the streets from a young age, grooming them to be his loyal little followers. Celaena was the same background as all of his men, so what made her so special?

Celaena moved around the chair to stand behind the three of them, the two who hadn’t spoken had closed their eyes as the trembling of their bodies increased. She tucked the gun back into the holster on her thigh before bringing the knife up to the man’s cheek, “I don’t like to ask things more than once, so, you’re going to tell me what he wants right now and save yourself a world of pain.”

“Go to hell, whore.”

“Your choice, I suppose.”

And so she dug that blade into the skin of his cheek and dragged downwards; Rowan watched as he screamed and jerked in the chair, trying to pull himself away from the blade. When all he did was sit there panting when she asked for information again, her blade moved just to the side of the previous cut and dragged down once more. It felt as though he stood in that room for hours, watching her maim a man’s face but could have only been thirty minutes. With four slices through each cheek, two through one eyebrow, Celaena was now prepared to slice part of an ear off when one of the others started shouting. “Stop, stop, stop! I’ll tell you anything just please, I can’t take the screams anymore.” Even as the words were said, she still sliced off the top of the other one’s ear.

The man that had tried to stop everything started outwardly sobbing and spewing out information as if he had no control. “He wants you back you fucking bitch! Arobynn wants you to come home, so he’s going to do everything to make you, but if you come back willingly everyone one you care about won’t have to die.”

Celaena was feral now, slicing the man in front of her one more time before moving back into their lines of vision. “Who disarmed the alarms?”

They each exchanged a look but said, at least, until she made to go back in again with the knife. “Cortland! Cortland took them out but we don’t know where he is, no one ever knows where he is except the boss.”

“Anything else you can tell me, boys?” They shook their heads desperately, pulling on their restraints.

“Very well, we’re done here. Blackbeack,” the white haired woman stepped forward, “do what you want with them, but be discreet.”

“It would be my pleasure, boss.” A knife was already twirling in her fingers of one hand an-

Oh god, those were fucking pliers in the other. Rowan didn’t even see where she had gotten them from.

All of them started protesting, squirming in their chairs, yelling every profanity they knew. “You lying bastard! You said that if we told you then we could go free.”

Lochan and Havilliard were already out of the door, and Rowan was holding it open, gritting his teeth at the fact he was about to allow three murders to go without doing anything. Celaena didn’t even look back as she sauntered to the door, “You’re all rapists, abusers and traffickers and you really thought I’d let you live. I hope the devil has fun with your sorry carcasses.”

When they were back out in the hall, both of the Westfalls were coming down the stairs and Celaena ordered Gav, Lorcan, Aedion and Lochan to escort them back to the house, just as the screams started from behind them. He and his men flinched at the brutality but there was no reaction from any of the others.

Rowan wanted to hate what was happening in that room, but knowing who those men were and what they had done, he found that he didn’t care.

Like he said, two wolves and one body, but right now his bad wolf was winning.

—————

Did we enjoy? Did we dislike? Honestly I love reading what you guys have to say so keep it coming:) If you want to be added/removed from the tags then just give me a shout! Also if there’s someone I’ve forgotten in the tags then thats my dumbass fault.

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00 @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt @sis-it-dont-add-up  @mad-madeline-ace​ @df3ndyr @b00kworm

#tog #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aedion ashryver #lysandra ennar #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #chaol westfall #yrene westfall #gavriel #fenrys moonbeam #connall #vaughan #gang au #yup i made sam bad #what of it? #arobynn is still a little bitch #my fic #haz writes #the cadre are undercover agents #tog fanfic #tog fandom #fanfiction

[firehrt]

            SO   !  How about that event, huh ?  This isn’t her first deadly rodeo in Spirale, so Aelin’s going to be traversing the mist and the paths in equal measure. Upon realizing her powers are  fully unlocked  for the majority of her time in said mists, she’ll just end up relying on them more and more heavily. Odds are you’ll see her in her fae form, elongated ears and teeth, with the enhanced reflexes and healing that entails !  This post also doubles as a starter call, which I’ll be capping at 4 for the time being. If you have any details you’d like to iron out, my DMs are always open !

RESIDUAL DATA IMPRINTS.   much to her distress, several snippets of her life will be on full display in the mists. this could range from some of the toughest jobs she’s done as an assassin or training with arobynn, past loves and lives lost, all the way through to certain parts of the main book series. these will be few and far between, though, almost as if intended to keep her on a set path deeper into the mist... 

SENTIENT DATA IMPRINTS.    these will be much more frequent. for reference: the valg are a demonic race that terrorize her world and typically enter through dimensional doorways. she’s encountered them on numerous occasions, and they’re highly lethal. past hits from her assassin days as well as former competitors in the first book are also perfectly possible ! 

RIDDERAK.   although ‘vaguely human’ in appearance, they’re ghastly valg beings that offer immense power boosts to whoever summons them. this comes at a price, however… a sacrifice. the summoner incapacitates their sacrifice of choice and writes wyrdmarks ( think of runes ) in their blood. this summons the ridderak, who then… feasts on the sacrifice. what they actually do to the person is incredibly gruesome and graphic, so i’ll save that description for when it’s actually needed — suffice to say, it’s a very bad time. not only will there be a ridderak hunting aelin down in the mist, but it will have been summoned by a sentient imprint of  cain  , who was responsible for the gruesome sacrificial murders and her near-death in the first book. with each sacrifice he grew more powerful, and in the final showdown for the title of king’s champion, she only barely escaped with her life. he’s absolutely a freight train with boosts of demonic energy. 

AROBYNN HAMEL.   truthfully, aelin would rather face the valg. her former mentor and bitter enemy, he’s responsible for much of her emotional trauma as well as the gruesome death of her first love. he also taught her everything he knows, making him incredibly deadly in a confrontation. she’ll be doing her best to be rid of him quickly, as letting him open his mouth is generally a mistake. if one were to categorize mist encounters, this one would be the rarest as it’s a deeply personal conflict for her.

#isola rp ad #EVENT : mistified. #me debating heavily about even including arobynn bc i just hate him that much #aelin i'm so sorry a bitch (me) would do this to you

[iliketoasterstrudels]

my friend just started Assassins Blade and she said she can feel the tension between Sam and Celaena. I’m currently crying, both tears of laughter and sadness. 😀👍

#throne of glass #sam cortland #celaena sardothien #arobynn is a bitch and i hate him #glad she doesn’t follow me so i can say this without spoiling

[firebreathingbitchhighlady]

Aelin after she sneaks into the bank to change Arobynn’s will and then arranges his death

#arobynn is a bitch #lysandra the MVP #aelin gets shit done

[rayonfrozenwings]

Sometimes I wonder if I might be a little violent on the inside.

Sometimes when I read a story I just really want the oppressed girl (it's often a girl 😔) to punch the jerk face so hard he falls over or is knocked out. Just so she doesn't have to put up with his bullshit. I hate that they'll instead get a man to hit him on her behalf (often said to be because of chivilry and it isn't asked for by the girl). Or that she has to be clever to win (brute strength is never an option). Sometimes I just want my frustrated female character to loose her cool and hit the fuckface and get away with it.

In QoS I loved how arobynn got his Commuppance from lysandra, but I still hate that she had to play a role and a game to achieve her goal for the abuse he put her through.

Don't get me wrong - I love clever and creative characters too. But sometimes I really want my girls to hit back for the shit they put up with.

#book thoughts #sjm books #lots of books #qos #queen if shadows #lysandra #arobynn #aelin #elide #manon #ansel #female characters #i dont know how to tag this #i just want a badass bitch who gucking punches the asshole in the face #before all the talky talk #before all the scheming #not when she has reduced them to nothing already and now the person who held ppwer has lost the power #because that jusy makes me feel like you can only reapond if there is a power shift #i know that there would be comsequences for the punch but damnit i just want my beserker girl #if you know a bopl that has this sort #of character then let me know #i think im out of my reading rut and need new content haha #not that i have time to read with christmas coming up but incan dream right

[morganofthewildfire]

You and I (and then some) - Part 4

Rowaelin month day 4 : library au

Parts 1,2,3

-1.5k words

—————————————

Aelin was both energized by her brain moving a million miles a minute as she planned out what to do, and utterly and completely drained by her body fighting the energy her mind was trying to demand and use. It’d been two days since she’d decided that she was doing this, and while she was beyond excited to meet their little baby, she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do.

It wasn’t like Arobynn would help her out at all. But she wouldn’t worry about that now. He was so oblivious he probably wouldn’t even know until she was showing through even sweatshirts. Which wouldn’t be for months now.

So she’d worry about that later.

For now, despite the nausea still begging her to just lay down and not get back up, she needed to finish out the school year. Half a week left, and two more exams. Then her junior year would be over.

She didn’t want to think about what her senior year would entail.

Aelin chewed on her lip as she flipped through her AP bio textbook, skimming through the chapters. She had her exam for that tomorrow, and she was skipping lunch to go study in the library. She was feeling too sick to eat anyway.

“Hey bitch.”

Aelin sighed through her nose, finishing the page before looking up into a pair of narrowed blue eyes.

Remelle LaFleur was an interesting person to say the least. Varsity cheerleader, beautiful blonde, and a pain in Aelin’s ass. She’d been drooling after Rowan ever since freshman year, and she never even tried to hide the fact that she hated Aelin.

Because Aelin was the opposite of everything Remelle was, and yet he’d picked her instead, and Remelle had never understood why.

“What, Remelle?” Aelin snapped, glaring before looking back down at her biology textbook. She was not in the mood for this right now. The other blond smiled coldly, resting her hand on the desk and leaning into it, nearly spilling out of her tiny top.

“I’m looking for Ro-bear,” Remelle crooned. “I wanted to … discuss next year’s football season with him.” Aelin raised a brow. “We’ll both be seniors after all, there’s a lot of other stuff that goes on behind the scenes.”

She knew what she was trying to insinuate, but Aelin just rolled her eyes, not letting the taunt get to her. She could dream all she wanted, but especially know with everything going on, Aelin knew Rowan would never ever do anything to hurt her.

She also knew Remelle was asking her on purpose, trying to bother her with her words. But it did needle something in her mind. She didn’t know where Rowan was. Their lunch break had only started less than ten minutes ago, and he’d promised to meet her in the library, but he wasn’t here yet. But she wouldn’t let that show on her face.

“I heard Cairn Montgomery is single if you want to discuss things with him,” Aelin replied, making her voice purposefully innocent. Remelle’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “He’ll be playing varsity football too, as a senior.” She tilted her head. “I’m sure he’d be more than willing.”

Cairn was another person Aelin tended to avoid. He didn’t seem to care at all about Aelin’s life or her lack of popularity and status, just how big her ass and tits were. He’d made several passes at her, and was the reason she’d stopped going to the few parties she’d ever been invited to. She didn’t want to deal with that. No one did.

Which was why she’d used him to taunt Remelle right back.

“Speaking from experience?” Remelle said, and Aelin smirked.

“Nope,” she shrugged, “I have Ro-bear to keep me company, so I don’t need to go dumpster diving for attention like other people.” She sighed dramatically and flipped a page in her textbook, a hand coming to discreetly rest on her abdomen. Company indeed. But Remelle was infuriated at the comment, just like she’d intended.

“This is why no one likes you, you slut,” the other blonde hissed, and Aelin just laughed.

“What a shame,” she said drily, before waggling her fingers at her in goodbye as Remelle marched away in indignation.

When she was no longer in sight, Aelin closed her eyes and huffed, rubbing a soothing hand over her still flat stomach in an attempt to stave off some of the nausea.

Without even noticing, she must’ve fallen asleep, because the next time she opened her eyes, it was to Rowan chuckling at her as she jerked awake, sliding into the chair next to her.

“Good nap?” He asked, smiling softly, and she chuckled, rubbing at her eyes as she sat up a bit.

“Beats studying for sure.” Aelin yawned, smiling out of it as Rowan’s hand came to squeeze the one holding her stomach, the sweet gesture enough to make tears prick her eyes. Which immediately had him on edge, even though she knew it was just her hormones.

“Are you okay?” He asked, “is there anything I can get you?” Aelin hummed, leaning back in the chair and considering.

“Some chocolate hazelnut cake would be divine,” she teased, and he ghosted a laugh, relief clear on his face as he reached behind him to reveal a white paper bag.

“You’re in luck, then,” he grinned, “I waited in that horrid lunch line to get you cake today.”

“Agh, you’re the best,” she replied, smiling in excitement as he took the cake out of the bag carefully, ignoring the dirty look from the librarian as he slid it over to her. But while she thought she was craving it, the moment a whiff of it hit her nose, she gagged, and barely had time to grab the bag before she was vomiting into it.

Rowan’s hand came to rest on her back, supporting her as she wiped her face.

“Gods,” she grumbled, as he pulled the cake back away from her, looking mournfully at it as he got up and threw it and the bag away before smoothly sitting back down. She avoided looking at the librarian, knowing she would just get a suspicious look if she did. And Aelin wasn’t exactly ready for the school to find out about this; who knows what they’d do then? Call Arobynn?

No, no. She couldn’t have that.

“No chocolate cake then?” Rowan asked, a glimmer of a smile on his face, and her lips curled up, her stomach slightly more settled now after puking up her guts.

“No chocolate cake,” she scowled, curling back into her seat, “I swear if my child ends up immune to sugar like you…” she clicked her tongue. Rowan snorted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer.

He brushed against the bruise on her arm, making her cringe, but she hid her reaction, not wanting him to worry.

“If our child,” he corrected softly, “understands the importance of vegetables, unlike someone else I know,” he flicked her nose gently, “then I’ll have done something right.” Aelin smiled at him fondly, before leaning in and pursing her lips for a kiss, which he promptly gave.

It was nice that throughout all of this chaos and uncertainty, he was still trying to make her happy, he was still being that comfort to her while she was being tossed around like a boat in a hurricane, he was still being exactly what she needed when she needed it most.

She was lucky that he was her baby’s father. Her baby. Fuck. It still was wild to her that she had a kid, that she was growing a child inside of her right now, she felt way too young for that, yet way too old and weary at the same time.

But the more the idea floated in her mind, the more it felt right. And the more she loved the little bean in her stomach already.

Just then the bell rang, and she sighed, closing her textbook with a huff before pushing the chair out and standing up. Rowan tried to help her, offering his support, but she wasn’t an invalid quite yet, so she stood up by herself, straightening the oversized band t-shirt she was wearing as she slid her backpack over a shoulder.

“Time to go,” she said to him through gritted teeth. He slid his hand into hers, and she squeezed it once, taking her place next to him as they headed out to the hallway. But not before he stopped, hesitating by the exit as he turned to her.

“I think we should tell Sellene.”

Aelin’s brow rose. “Your cousin? Why?” The words sounded harsher than she meant them too, but he didn’t seem offended, just took her other hand in his too, his rough calluses brushing against her smoother skin.

“She’s out on her own now, she’s making a good living and I know she’d be supportive,” he explained, and she gnawed on her lip. “She could help us while we figure out what else to do.”

Aelin tucked her chin on her shoulder as she considered, before conceding a nod. They could use some help for sure. And Sellene had always liked her, she probably wouldn’t judge. Hopefully.

So she nodded, relaxing as Rowan pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

It was a place to start. She just hoped it wouldn’t lead to disaster.

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[highqueenofelfhame]

fafs, twenty four

so i was definitely going to wait to post this until tomorrow or the day after but then decided to say fuck it and in the spirit of rowaelin month am just giving it to you now, whatever. who needs rules. or regulations. not me.

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It was nowhere near the worst injury she’d ever had, but it certainly wasn’t pleasant.

The living room floor of one of her smaller sanctuaries had been turned into a makeshift operating room. A trash bag was laid out beneath her, rustling with every move she made. The first aid kit that had been untouched and hidden under the kitchen sink was open with all its pieces scattered around her. A brand new bottle of vodka sat to her right, several shots worth already buzzing through her veins. It would take at least one more swig before she got started, but it was already difficult to slide the thread into the needle, so she was holding off until she was just about ready to begin.

Gods damn the agent that shot her. Aelin would bet money that it was Remelle, the blonde bitch that had been pawing at Rowan for years. Before, when she was Lilian, she’d heard a wide array of stories about the woman and her unwanted advances. Ever since Aelin had been introduced to the FBI as a criminal informant, she had shot daggers at her in every meeting, likely angry Aelin was spending so much time with Rowan. Despite how much of that time was angry banter from Rowan, no matter if Aelin was trying to thaw out his icy inner and exterior.

None of that mattered now. She could have Rowan if she really wanted him. Maybe they were already together and--

Aelin stopped those thoughts in their tracks, eyes focusing on the task at hand. There were bigger things to worry about, like getting out of the city and, most importantly, the bleeding wound on her thigh. She chewed on her lip until the thread finally made it into the curved needle, and she held back a cheer as she sloshed some vodka over the wound on her thigh. Hissing through her teeth, she thanked the gods that it wasn’t any worse.

It wasn’t even that bad, considering everything else she’d experienced. There was the time Arobynn had stabbed a dagger through her palm, and she’d had to stitch up the injury herself. She wasn’t sure how many times she’d been sliced and jabbed in training. Her list of broken bones and scars was a long one. Once she got older and was better at her job than all of the men combined, training had become more of a game of survival. They had been out for blood, shedding hers in red tears on the floor until she managed to incapacitate them enough to claim the victory for herself.

This gunshot wound was minor. It hadn’t nicked anything major, and it had taken a while for Aelin to realize she’d even been shot. The adrenaline from running from the full force of the FBI had been enough to repel the pain until she was nearly to her safehouse. She was four blocks away when she realized her pace was slowing and that there was a sharp, hot pain throbbing in her left thigh. A glance down told her everything she needed to know. She had limped straight through the front door and to the first aid kit, where she now prepared to stitch her own leg up.

At one point, there had been a numbing agent in this bag, but she remembered using it on Sam after a nasty fight with Arobynn one night when she was twenty-one. Since then, she’d seldom been to this safehouse and had neglected to restock her kit. There was barely enough of the nylon thread left over, but she would manage. Aelin made a mental note to have someone, either Nox or herself, replenish the missing items.

With a deep breath and a final swig of vodka, she picked up the forceps and shimmied the tension from her shoulders while she hunched over her leg, ready to begin.

With the first stick and the drag of the thread through her skin, Aelin bit her lip so hard she drew blood. It was a bizarre and uncomfortable feeling accompanied by a slight burning sensation. Several times she groaned while she sewed her skin back together. By the time she was finished, her mouth tasted metallic, and the trash bag beneath her was covered in droplets of blood. Her bare thigh looked grim and would leave behind a jagged, ugly scar, but she doused it once more in vodka before wiping away the blood with a damp piece of gauze. Her hands were mostly steady while she placed a bandage over the top and taped it down.

It was just another painful memory that would soon fade to silvery skin. How many more would it take until she was free?

Shaking her head to pull her from any thoughts too negative to deal with right now, Aelin smiled a bit. She was almost pleased with herself for handling the entire situation so well, but the reality of the situation was soon to crash down on her. It didn’t take long for her to get up, going about the tiny house and jerking all the curtains closed. Hardly any natural light was able to filter in through the gaps in the curtains for how tightly she’d twisted at the blinds until they were sealed completely shut. Thumbtacks were shoved into the walls to keep anyone curious from peering inside. She would move to another place in a day or two, she promised herself, after she had time to dye her hair and her wound wasn’t so fresh.

Every lock on every door was twisted into place-- seven locks on both the front and back doors. Only two of those locks could be opened with a key from the outside. The other five were inside only, a variation of deadbolts and chain locks that made her feel secure.

Only when she was satisfied that she was as safe for the time being did she go to the single bedroom and lock the door behind her. In a handful of heartbeats, she collapsed on the old quilt and drifted into a fitful sleep.

~*~

The news that it would take weeks, maybe months, of physical therapy to have his shoulder back to one-hundred percent was irritating to say the least. Rowan would be out of work for a while, but that wasn’t the most frustrating part of the situation. He would be wearing the restrictive sling for weeks, only to take it off when he changed clothes or showered. They didn’t even allow him to take it off to sleep, for gods’ sake. Rowan would be sleeping sitting up for the foreseeable future, and he was fucking annoyed about it.

The last few nights sleeping in the hospital had been anything but fruitful. Not only was he woken by the nurses coming in to check on him every few hours, every single time he tried to adjust to a more comfortable position, he was reminded of the sling. The pain was nearly suffocating. Rowan had heard from Fenrys about how bad shoulder injuries were, but this was on another level of anything he had ever experienced.

So why he was standing in the abandoned apartment of the woman who had shot the bullet through it in the first place was beyond him at the moment.

It wasn’t the apartment littered with cameras and paid for by the bureau. It was the one she’d lived in privately before her beating and arrest. It was the one decorated with opulence and taste. With artwork that wouldn’t surprise Rowan to find it had been stolen and was priceless. The one with books stacking shelves every which way, those novels bookmarked and annotated, as he had just learned. Like she loved them so much, she couldn’t help but document her favorite and least favorite parts.

The linens closet was filled with the softest blankets and nicest sheets Rowan had ever felt in his life. Silk sheets were currently stretched over the mattress in her bedroom, a thing that Rowan had thought she’d quipped as a joke once.

“Sorry, the sheets aren’t Egyptian cotton for whatever the hell you’re used to,” he’d said, a bite in his tone as he showed her the dump of an apartment the bureau had decided on for her.

“Silk,” she winked. “Feels good against my skin when I sleep naked.”

It hadn’t been a joke. He ran his fingers over the fabric and almost smiled at the memory but forced his lips into a frown instead. As he looked around the room, the nearly ostentatious yet somehow tasteful room, he missed her. He hated himself for it, but he missed her. The woman had shot him through the shoulder, but the pain in his heart was somehow worse. His first thought when he woke in the hospital from surgery had been about if they’d found her and she was safe, gods above. Everything about himself was secondary, and he didn’t really care.

But they hadn’t found her. There was no trace of her after her anklet was cut. Nobody had seen her; traffic cams had stopped picking her up like she had just… vanished. He hated that she was so good at her job, so good at being a criminal.

Deep down, Rowan knew that wasn’t what bothered him. It never really had. There wasn’t a part of her soul that he had seen and didn’t understand or want to love. Nothing she had ever done had pushed him away in the slightest. Her honesty about her life and the vulnerability she had shown him only made him respect and love her more.

He wasn’t mad that she shot him. Was he annoyed that he couldn’t use his arm? Of course. But he understood. Rowan understood that she felt backed into a corner and betrayed, and she went into fight or flight mode. In this case, it had been fight and flight. He had stepped too close and got shot in return. It was fair. She was used to fighting her way out of situations, so of course, it was the route she’d taken.

He just wanted her to slip up for once so he could just find her and talk to her. Figure out whatever the hell was going on when they’d argued before she shot him, then disappeared in the middle of the day in a bustling city. Rowan wasn’t even mad that she hadn’t been caught. In fact, he was glad they hadn’t caught her.

Rowan didn’t want her to be found. The full force of the FBI would rain down on her like a hurricane and she would be shown no mercy. There wasn’t a single part of him that wanted her suffering in an interrogation room, throwing around the word allegedly like she used to throw daggers. For her to be thrown back in that dismal jail cell awaiting a death sentence that almost assuredly awaited her for what happened at the bureau.

But he was still frustrated as all hell that he couldn’t find her now, no matter how much he didn’t want her rotting in prison on the outskirts of the city.

It was while he stood with his fingers running over the silk of her sheets that he heard the jingling of keys at her front door. It was surprising, considering he’d had to pick several locks to get up here in the first place. Rowan flattened his body against the bedroom wall, listening to the front door open and close.

The footsteps that followed weren’t Aelin’s, though. They were a little louder, carrying a larger and heavier body. Rowan moved to stand in the doorway, startling the man in the center of the room. He dropped the bag he was carrying, swearing loudly as he bent to pick it back up.

“Gods above, Suit,” he murmured, dropping the bag on the kitchen counter. “What are you doing here? Getting something for Celaena?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Rowan inquired, noting that the bag he carried contained nothing of real importance. If anything, it looked like a combination of garden tools and art supplies.

“I think I stashed something here if we’re being candid and off the record, which I would very much appreciate if we were, by the way. I’ve come to collect.” Haversham -- Rowan still didn’t know the man’s real name -- began digging around Aelin’s bookshelves, looking behind and even inside some of her books that turned out not to be books at all. They looked like books, but when opened in the middle were hidden pockets. Some were empty; some weren’t. Rowan noticed a few that had different bits of identification tucked away. None of that seemed to be what Haversham looked for as he simply closed them and put them back on the shelves.

“Where is she?” Rowan finally asked, a little boldly.

“Can’t you check that fancy anklet you have her wearing and figure it out? I haven’t seen her in a week. She isn’t calling me back, either, so when you do see her, can you tell her that I…” The man trailed off after looking up from his search and seeing Rowan’s face. Rowan’s hard, unyielding face and the concern that was likely etched in his features. The wrinkle between his brow, the stiff way he held his lips. Haversham’s head tilted curiously.

“Holy gods, did she make a run for it?”

“Something happened at the bureau. I can’t find her. Neither can they. But I need to talk to her. I can’t help her otherwise.”

“Do you want to help her?” The sound that came from Rowan was nearly a growl, and Haversham retreated a step with his hands raised defensively. “Look, I’m just saying. She wouldn’t make a run for it unless it was something serious and you’re incapacitated at the moment. Which leads me to believe that she did it; otherwise, you wouldn’t be hurt at all. Celaena wouldn’t let somebody hurt you. So either you really fucked up--”

“I did, but only by not protecting her and defending her when it mattered.”

Haversham twisted his mouth to the side while he gave Rowan a hard once-over. It was like he was assessing everything he knew about his character while deciding if he would help him or not. There was a prolonged silence that made Rowan want to throw something at the man, but he waited it out.

“I’m only going to help you because you make her happy. And I don’t mean superficially. I mean that for the first time in the eight years I’ve known her, she’s been happier and more alive than I’ve ever seen her. I know she trusted you more than she’s ever trusted anyone else. More than me, which doesn’t say much considering I think she trusts me as far as she can throw me. But she trusts you more than Sam even.” Finally, he ripped a page from one of the books and began to scrawl across the page until it was nearly full. When he handed it to Rowan, he realized it was a collection of addresses. Some were in the city; some were in other countries. Some were a handful of hours of a drive into nowhere. One was practically around the corner from where they were now.

“What is this?”

“Safehouses. Those are the ones I know about. Celaena has… a lot of secrets. I don’t know even half of them. I have my suspicions about a lot of shit, but I’m letting her come to me with it when she’s ready. So I don’t know all of her safehouses, but I know those ones. Those are the ones she’s let me use in times of trouble. That’s the only help I can really offer you besides calling if I hear from her.”

“Thank you,” Rowan said softly, and he meant it. It was the biggest and only lead that he had on her whereabouts, and even if she wasn’t crashing on a bed in any of these places, it was a start. It was the only hope he had so far that maybe, just maybe… he might find her.

~*~

Rowan had decided to start on the outside and work his way in, and it was wasting a lot of time. Everyone he was friendly with at the bureau was constantly calling and texting to see how he was doing, asking what he was up to. Fenrys told him he’d stopped by his apartment a few times this week, and he hadn’t been home. Rowan replied, saying he was just taking some time to himself, which seemed to satisfy the man, and that had been that.

In reality, Rowan had been in Terrasen trying to find Aelin. She wasn’t in either of the two listed near the border of Adarlan, so now he was slowly working his way back toward Rifthold. It just didn’t seem likely for her to be hiding somewhere in the city, not when she would have to leave for food and other necessities at some point. So he’d gone as far out as he could before making his way back. So far, it had turned up nothing. Both of the cabins he’d visited in the woods had seen better days and likely hadn’t seen Aelin in years.

He was driving toward his fourth destination now, so deep in Oakwald, he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t back in Terrasen at this point. The location pinged on the Adarlanian side of the border, but he had little hope of actually finding her. There were only two safehouses left on the list, and both of them were in the city itself. Would he still check them? Of course. But did he think that she was stupid enough to be there? Absolutely not.

The energy of the place was different as soon as he made it up the drive. Halfway up, a gate that covered the driveway, and Rowan had to abandon his car and hop the fence. It was a bit of a feat, as it was taller than him, and he only had one good arm to use, but he managed. Even if it had taken him three times as long as it usually would have. Feet pounding down against the dirt so hard it caused a small cloud, he proceeded up toward the small cottage with a little more confidence than he’d had the rest of the drive.

Smoke was wafting from the chimney, and a dim glow flickered in the window. The window that a lithe body stood in, peering through the curtains and backlit by the fire. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew it was Aelin, knew he’d been spotted, and knew she was watching. How she had known he’d arrived, he wasn’t sure. Being overcautious her entire life likely meant that there were tripwires that alerted her of his presence somewhere on the driveway.

As he got closer, she disappeared, and the curtains slipped back into place. When he got to the door, he reached out but hesitated for a moment. Aelin clearly didn’t want to be found and was clearly mad at him. What if she did worse than she had the last time they’d seen each other? Part of him thought she wouldn’t, but he hadn’t ever thought she would shoot him, either. Rowan wasn’t sure how many times she had told him she hated guns, but desperate times call for desperate measures, after all.

It took more courage than he cared to admit to turn the knob. Much to his surprise, the door opened, and he slipped inside, shutting it behind him quietly. To be frank, Rowan couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to find her at all, much less on a list of places that Haversham managed to remember.

As his eyes adjusted to the room, he saw Aelin sitting across the room with a bottle of rum in one hand, balanced on her thigh. She was slumped down a bit in the chair; her hair dyed a muddy reddish-brown color. A dagger was in her other hand, being twisted in circles against her bare leg. Rowan wanted to tell her to stop, that she would hurt herself, but faster than he could register, she was moving. He was stunned further into silence by the whistling of the wind and the slight breeze by his ear. A loud thud had him whipping around to the door.

Embedded in the wood, millimeters from where his head had just been, was the dagger she’d been holding, and when he looked back at Aelin, she was smirking.

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