HRH Princess Anne talks about her new Rustler 44 yacht and love of sailing in Scotland
Article from Yachting World, published 4th December 2014
Elaine Bunting asks Royal Princess Anne and her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence which are their favourite Scottish cruising grounds when they sail their Rustler 44 Ballochbuie.
Scotland is no easy cruising ground. The weather can change quickly. Reaching the more distant islands requires a certain toughness as well as skill, especially if sailing double-handed, as The Princess Royal Princess Anne and her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence usually do aboard their new Rustler 44 Ballochbuie. This is ‘black run’ cruising.
Their favourite places are the more remote islands and anchorages. “To be honest, if we get north of Ardnamurchan it suddenly feels different, and if you go north of Skye other boats almost disappear, and although there are some based up at Ullapool and Stornoway, they are rare,” says Princess Anne.
Asked about some of the places they like to visit, they first mention the island of Coll. “We’ve got some friends who live there,” says Sir Tim, adding: “though is not the most hospitable and the anchorages there are a little bit variable.”
“But it is pretty impressive at certain times of the year,” adds Princess Anne, “particularly up at the northern end, the Cairns of Coll. The northern end is rocky and the southern end is a bit more agricultural and there are lots of geese in the winter. Actually, winter is probably more entertaining – you get snipe and woodcock as well.”
At the mention of anchorages, Sir Tim gets up and goes below to Ballochbuie’s navigation table to retrieve a document that runs to several pages of A4 paper. This is a list of all the places he and Princess Anne have been to during their years of sailing the two Rustlers.
It is a very impressive and comprehensive list stretching from Rathlin Island off the north coast of Northern Ireland as far north as Cape Wrath at the north-western tip of Scotland. The scores of anchorages are carefully listed and account for some challenging pilotage and difficult nooks and crannies. But they seem to enjoy exploring new – and preferably out of the way – spots.
“We haven’t kept a record of how many miles we’ve sailed, but we have kept a record of the anchorages,” says Sir Tim, to which the Princess adds: “Every trip we added one anchorage we hadn’t been to before, at least, and usually two or three. Even if you are going over the same ground there are still places to be found, though fish farms are a bit of a menace. There are places we used to anchor in Bloodhound that you can’t get to now.”
The wildlife and sea life are something they both mention. “We see quite a lot of basking sharks, particularly between Coll and Tiree,” says Princess Anne. “Once I lost count at about 25. That was extraordinary.”
Princess Anne recalls: “We had a rough three days on the way from the Sound of Harris down to Lochboisdale [on South Uist] and saw a big pod of dolphins, which was just extraordinary. They were coming at you from the top of the waves. They didn’t quite jump over the top of the boat, but they looked like they were going to.”
Royal favourites
Lewis: the lochs on the east side are great. There are quite a few places to anchor in Loch Roag.
Shiant Islands: we’ve been there a couple of times in Blue Doublet and a couple of times on [the cruise ship] Hebridean Princess with The Queen.
Loch Ewe: we had an interesting time in fog as thick as I’ve ever known it. There is a wonderful garden to see here as well.
Hermitray: there are some nice anchorages in the Sound of Harris, but lots of fish farms around.
Rona: a favourite spot. One of the most sheltered anchorages on the west coast. A very nice man, Bill Cowie, is the warden.
Skye: we’ve been all round Skye. There are lots more places to visit. We’ve only been to 12 anchorages there!
Eriskay: there’s a fantastic little anchorage here. We went there for the first time in Ballochbuie.
Barra: a marvellous place and a wonderful escape from the world.
Vatersay: good shelter in the lee of a sandbar. We anchored near Vatersay in company with Britannia one year.
Canna, Rum, Eigg and Muck: we enjoy visiting all these islands.
Loch Nevis and Loch Awe: both are lovely places.
Loch Moidart: beautiful, but we’ve only been there once. It has quite a scary entrance, not easy in a long-keel boat and you’re always battling the wind to get out.
Mull: Loch Mingary, Bunessan, the Bull Hole and Ardlanish. A beautiful little spot with shelter on the south side of the Ross of Mull. Carsaig is a little notch you wouldn’t think you could get into or get any shelter at all, but there’s a little reef offshore you can tuck behind.
Lismore: the island in Loch Linnhe. Walking there you get the most beautiful views and you can see as far as Ben Nevis.
Loch Feochan: there is a little place right at the entrance that is great.
Garvellach Islands: lovely, but weather- dependent so it has to be very calm.
Loch Craignish: Goat Island is one of the safest anchorages on the west coast of Scotland, as long as you are able to wash off your anchor; it has the stickiest mud.
Jura: we have visited anchorages all round the coast.
Rathlin Island: fascinating, a bit shallow and we bounced off the bottom there.
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PART THREE: MARCH (PART I)
Word count: 3.9k
Warnings: swearing, friendly teasing, science mumbo jumbo, mentions of police, mentions of illegal activities, mentions of Cairn, Rowaelin being very attracted to each other, so much scheming
Enjoy!
A/N: Part 2 will be posted for Rowaelin Month day 16 ;)
Masterlist
Read on AO3
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Aelin had been sitting in her car waiting for twenty-three minutes and eighteen seconds.
Granted, she had a book to keep her company, and she knew her darling cousin was not renowned for his punctuality, but over twenty minutes? That was long enough to ditch a first date. But they were family, and she hardly ever got to see him outside of their monthly lunches, so she turned another page in her novel and allowed the delay.
Ten seconds later, her phone vibrated.
>>I’m here. Bet you’ve already finished your food, sorry. The text was punctuated with a grimacing emoji.
<<Still outside, thought I’d be the bigger person and wait for you to dig yourself out of your mad scientist cave
A middle finger emoji was the response.
Smirking, Aelin got out of her car, locked it behind her, and strolled up to the tall blonde guy waiting in front of the restaurant, linking her arm through his. “There’s no need to be vulgar, Aedy.”
Aedion Ashryver snorted and pulled his cousin into a hug. “Hello must not be part of your vocabulary anymore, Miss CEO.”
“Nope!” Aelin winked. “Business empires aren’t built on platitudes.”
“You’re as impossible as ever.” He held the door open for her.
“I’m hungry, too.” She patted his arm in thanks. “And you are late.” She smiled at the hostess. “Hi, party of two for Ashryver?”
As they followed the hostess to a booth, Aedion poked Aelin in the side. “I really am sorry, work just…it got away from me. I didn’t realize the time until it was already ten after.”
She slid into her side of the booth and chuckled. “You’re such a mad scientist, Aedy.”
“Stop calling me that,” he grumbled.
“Never.” She flashed him an angelically innocent smile.
Their server returned a few minutes later to take their orders, and because it was later in the afternoon, the food was served quickly. Aelin sighed almost indecently as she bit into her sandwich, causing Aedion to roll his eyes.
“Really, Ae? Right in front of my fish tacos?”
“You made me wait almost twenty-five minutes, and I barely had breakfast,” she returned. Elegantly, she wiped her mouth and took a bite of the side salad.
Aedion raised his blonde brows in dramatic shock. “Am I tripping, or did my darling cousin voluntarily order something green and leafy?”
“Shut up,” Aelin shot back, gesturing at him with her fork. “I like salad.”
“Mhmm, you keep telling yourself that,” he drawled, not convinced in the slightest. “And pigs can fly.”
“If you put them on an airplane, they can.”
He sputtered a laugh. “Gods, I’ve missed you.”
Her mirthful grin softened into a genuine smile. “I’ve missed you too, Aed. You spend way too much time locked up in that lab of yours.” She wiggled her brows suggestively. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were doing something rather unsanitary.”
“You’re the worst,” he grumbled, a faint trace of pink staining his cheeks.
Aelin nearly dropped her fork. “Aedion Ashryver!” she whisper-shouted. “Are you getting railed in your lab?!”
“No!” he hissed. “What the hell?”
“It was a fair question, Mr. I’m-Definitely-Not-Blushing.”
“I keep forgetting that you’re so observant,” he mumbled. “No, Aelin, I’m not getting anything at my lab, except annoyed.”
“Hey, I’m a scientist too,” she teased. “And that’s too bad. Where’s your naughty reward for all your hours of hard work?”
“My reward is my fat paycheck,” he smirked.
She snorted. “Yeah, I bet working with Orynth PD does pay pretty nicely.”
His expression sombered. “Speaking of Orynth PD…”
“Do you have an update for me?” She sipped her water, mentally preparing herself for potential bad news.
“Yeah.” Aedion dragged his hand through his messy half-bun, tugging the hair tie free and idly weaving it around his fingers. “You remember when I told you PD had brought me a piece of evidence they’d found at the explosion site?” Aelin nodded. “Well, I’ve run every fucking test I can think of on it, and I’m still nowhere. Even particle analysis came up inconclusive. It’s…fuck, I’m about ready to chart it as ‘alien substance’ and tell PD it’s fuckin’ useless as evidence because there is no existing material even remotely close to it.” He huffed, exasperated but at the same time drawn to a problem he hadn’t yet solved.
“How long have you been running tests?”
“Since the end of January.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “It’s March 9th, and gods, I haven’t got anything.”
Aelin pushed the last few leaves of her salad around on the plate, suddenly not hungry despite having half a sandwich left. “Um…”
He snapped his eyes to hers, the concentrated steel of his stare eerily similar to Gavriel’s commander face. “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, what do you know about this fabric?” He pulled a small plastic bag from his sleeve. Inside the bag was a tiny scrap of black, tightly woven material that resembled layers and layers of fine, interlocking mesh, so closely stacked that they appeared almost seamless.
She inhaled, held the breath for exactly six seconds, exhaled, and met her cousin’s gaze head-on. “It’s mine.”
He swore under his breath. “What is it?”
“I…I can’t tell you that,” she whispered. Before he could demand why, she held up her hands in defense. “Because it’s in development, Aedion. There’s a very small quantity in existence, and only I have full access to it. This right here–” she indicated the scrap–“must have already been weakened, because all previous tests have pointed at the material being incredibly difficult to damage.”
“So…only you know what the material is?”
“Yes.”
“And you know that it’s currently in PD hands? That I’ll be arrested if it ‘goes missing?’”
“Yes.” She twisted the slender silver ring around her right middle finger, a visible sign of her nervousness. “I’m not asking you to return it.”
“Then what are you asking?”
Aelin pressed her lips into a thin, worried line. “I would ask you to give it back to me, but I won’t go that far.”
“So…”
“So…you can give it back to PD. Don’t explain it, though; just tell them whatever science-speak you nerds use to say ‘it’s too convoluted to figure out.’”
“Says the woman with a PhD in chemical engineering.”
“At least I can have normal conversations.”
“That’s what you think, young one.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand, reassuring her. “I’ll tell PD that the stuff is made of a wildly tangled structure that might take years to unravel, and I know they don’t have that kind of time frame. I’ll tell them it’s an entirely foreign substance.” He flashed her a private little grin. “We’ll see how many knots that ties them into, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her lips quirked up. “I really don’t deserve you, Aed.”
“Bullshit.” He nudged her plate back towards her. “Who else would buy you chocolate hazelnut cake as an apology for being twenty-five minutes late to lunch?”
“My favorite!” she exclaimed. “Does that mean we’re going to the bakery?”
“Of course it does.” He waved the server over, paid the check, and even carried Aelin’s box of leftovers for her as they left the restaurant. They walked about a block down the street to the charmingly rustic building that housed Aelin’s favorite bakery, where Aedion bought a massive slice of chocolate hazelnut cake, as promised.
She sighed happily as she tasted the decadent dessert. “This is incredible. Bury me with a box of chocolate hazelnut cake, okay?”
“Cake won’t make it to the afterlife,” Aedion deadpanned.
She smacked his arm. “We’ll see who’s laughing in the afterlife when I pull my whole box of cake out of the hellfire.”
“Hellfire,” he murmured, blowing out a long sigh. “If only that shit didn’t exist.”
She put away her cake, tucked both the bakery box and her restaurant box into the bakery bag, and linked her arm through his, leading them down to walk along the riverside path. “It’s one dangerous fucking explosive, for sure.”
“I’m pretty damn certain that’s what was used in the Wilkins lot explosion,” he admitted. “Hellfire. I’d know its chemical scent anywhere.”
“Yeah, it’s a unique one.” She shrugged. “What? I keep up with the research.”
“Naturally.” He chewed on his lower lip, working through what he wanted to tell her. “Something about it feels…wrong, though, and I don’t know how to describe it. I know it’s hellfire because the scent matches, but what the site looks like…” He trailed off.
“Is it different?” she inquired. “Less damaged? More damaged? Is there…” A tight, controlled breath. “Something worse about it?”
“Something worse.” Emotion–fear–flashed through his eyes. “Aelin, I’m about to tell you classified information. Promise me you’ll keep it to yourself.”
She pressed her palm to his. “I swear it.”
He braced himself, as if the information could collapse him. “The scorch marks left at the scene indicate both the burn pattern and rapidity, as you probably know.” She nodded. “Well, the marks at the Wilkins lot indicate a pace nearly twice as rapid as hellfire is known to have.”
Aelin gasped. “That’s…fuck.”
Aedion jerked his head in a tight nod. “Yeah.”
Nearly twice as rapid. Her mind reeled with recognition. The hellfire used to blow up the Wilkins lot back in January–the hellfire that her team had developed, that she had planted and detonated–burned nearly twice as fast as known hellfire did.
She’d accidentally created a compound that could incinerate a solid steel building in a matter of seconds.
“Hey.” Aedion’s voice yanked her out of her whirling thoughts. “It’s possible there was another substance involved, something that caused a freak reaction. With the damage done, though, it may not be possible to detect the presence of any other substances.” He fiddled with the strap of his watch. “Hellfire just…it shouldn’t react this way, and I don’t know what the hell to make of it.”
“Or what the hell you’re going to tell PD about it,” she added.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I can’t put them off forever, Ae.”
“Give them as much truth as you can, Aed.” Though quiet, her voice didn’t waver.
They’d nearly reached the lot where their cars were parked, and Aedion accompanied Aelin to her car, his protective tendencies in full force as always. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.” She squeezed his hands. “Don’t…don’t incriminate yourself, of course, and that might mean not mentioning me or my involvement. But be honest, as much as possible. Tell PD what you know about the fabric. Tell them your theory about the hellfire.”
He pulled her into a crushing hug. “Thank you,” he whispered, the words stealing whatever was left of her breath after his embrace stole the rest.
“Thank you,” she whispered back, “for not losing your shit at me.”
He chuckled softly. “I’d rather not risk the wrath of Orynth’s most ruthless CEO.”
She flashed him a half-grin as she climbed into her car. “Bye, Aeds. See you next month?”
“See you next month.”
She waved at him in the rearview mirror as she drove off.
~
“Good morning, Ms. Galathynius.” Ansel fell into step next to Aelin as she crossed the lobby. Judging from her formal address, she was in full lawyer mode. “Are you ready?”
“Always.” Aelin adjusted her loose hold on her work tote. “Tell me one time where I’ve gone into an important meeting completely unprepared; I’ll bet you can’t.”
The attorney scoffed. “Last Tuesday, the day after you took a half day off to make your cousin buy you cake, you walked into a negotiation with the Cortlands without having done a speck of research.”
“And I secured precisely the terms I needed to secure,” Aelin smirked. “That cake was my preemptive reward.”
“Mhmm, bet that’s what you tell yourself at night when you’re awake worrying over the possibility of one misspelled word in that contract.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you remember too much?”
“Do you think I listen to that crap?” Ansel’s grin was as wicked as her boss’s.
Aelin laughed. “This is why you’re my lawyer, Briarcliff.” She parted ways with her attorney as Ansel entered her own office. “I’ll call you if needed.”
“You better.” The redhead nudged her in the side. “Now go get your big bad CEO office all ready for the investigator.”
Aelin snickered and headed up to her office, where she moved her disorganized stacks of paperwork and notes to an empty drawer in her file cabinet and tidied up her desktop. She had a certain green-eyed special forces lieutenant to impress, after all. Best not to show a man who’d grown up in the military the chaos that her office typically was–it would probably give him heart failure. She pointed a small remote control at the walls of windows, raising all the blinds to let in the early-spring sunlight.
At precisely eleven-fourteen, her desk phone rang.
“Lieutenant Whitethorn is here, ma’am.” Her assistant’s voice was perfectly calm, as if she was announcing any other ordinary visitor.
“Send him in.”
The mahogany door swung smoothly opening, allowing Lieutenant Rowan Whitethorn to stroll into her office, casual confidence rolling off his six-foot-three frame.
“Lieutenant,” Aelin greeted him, rising from her desk to meet him halfway across the expansive space. “So good to see you again. You look much more comfortable in your everyday clothes.” That was the mildest possible version of the truth. His collared black shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up and expertly fitted black slacks–just formal enough for a meeting, just casual enough for comfort–paired with the badge affixed to his sleeve and the faint outline of a bulletproof vest beneath his shirt made Aelin want to forget about the meeting and climb that man like a tree.
He cracked a hint of a grin. “Tuxedos aren’t exactly my favorite attire, for sure.” His warm hand closed around hers, his handshake firm and confident. “Thank you for scheduling this meeting with so little notice.”
She dipped her head. “It’s the least I can do, Rowan. I know how important this…issue is.” Rather than lead him towards her desk, she moved back towards the door. “Shall we chat somewhere less imposing? I’d like to think that we’re past all the unnecessary formality.” Since we kissed and everything.
“I’d like that.” His presence was a solid, steady warmth behind her as he followed her to a small conference room just down the hall.
“This is probably my favorite meeting room,” she admitted as she held open the door for him. “It’s essentially the office library, but almost nobody ever uses it.”
He swept a thorough gaze over the dark oak bookshelves lining the walls, the soft yellow lighting in place of the standard office brightness, the plush maroon velvet chairs, and the single table off to the left, and cracked a full smile. “This is lovely.”
“I used to study here when I had to come to the office after school,” she said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs and motioning for him to do the same. “My parents worked unpredictable hours, and I couldn’t take myself home until I had a car.”
“Did you go to school close to here?” Rowan inquired, not missing the chance to slip into investigator mode.
“Yes, I went to Orynth Prep with the rest of the rich kids. It’s about a seven-minute walk away.”
His lips twitched. “A prep school minutes away from the downtown business sector. How clever of them to be so close to the money.”
She muffled a snort. “Well, the lovely students needed the right volunteer hours on their transcripts, after all.”
“Wonder if that’s helped them once they graduate from Harvard Business School,” he murmured, half to himself. “I don’t mean to shift directions so quickly, Aelin, but I am here on official business.” He cleared his throat. “Are you aware that there have been fourteen rather brutal homicides committed over the past seven months here in Orynth?”
“I am aware. The news has been…eager to remind us.” She grimaced slightly. “I’ll never understand the journalistic fascination with gruesome crimes.”
He nodded. “Are you also aware that the most recent victim was discovered at a warehouse that your company owns?”
Aelin pressed her fingertips to her mouth, her eyes widening in shock. “Wh-which one?”
“This property.” He passed her a photograph of the warehouse where Cairn’s body had been dumped. The shot was taken after PD had cleaned up the scene.
She examined the photo, nibbling at her lower lip. “I see.”
“You sound unsurprised.” Damn, the man was perceptive.
Aelin chose her next words very, very carefully. “I’m aware that some of my properties, particularly the ones in the shipping district, are rather sketchy, so I’m not completely blown off my feet to learn that this warehouse is now officially a crime scene.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Please know that you have my full cooperation with your investigative efforts on my property.”
“Thank you.” Unexpectedly, Rowan reached out and laid his free hand over hers. “I’ll do everything I can to make our stay on your property short.” He offered her a crooked smile and glanced back down at his notepad. “You have an advanced degree in chemistry, correct? It’s public information, I promise I didn’t use my police access to sneak into any info.”
“I do.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I have my PhD in chemical engineering. Still enjoy running an experiment at the Gal Inc labs every once in a while.” She chuckled. “My chief engineer is kind enough to let me make my messes.”
He wrote something down in his notes. “What can you tell me about the compound known as hellfire?”
She whistled softly. “If you’ll forgive my language, it’s one hell of an explosive.” That said, she shifted to her scientist voice. “Hellfire is highly volatile and extremely sensitive, not to mention astronomically expensive to produce. Its key components are stable nitroglycerin and PETN; it also contains smaller quantities of some very rare, very finicky liquid chemicals. From what I know, it is most commonly detonated using highly concentrated acid to trigger the explosion, and the heat produced during the explosion ensures that none of the compound is left inactive.” She shuddered. “It’s frightening, even to us scientists.”
“It certainly is.” He propped his chin on one fist. “You know about the catastrophic explosion of this past January, yes?”
“Yes.” Twist the rings, Galathynius. She fiddled with one of her rings.
“We have reason to believe that hellfire was the substance detonated during that event.”
“Gods,” she breathed, horror coating her faint voice. “That…oh gods.”
“Hey.” He broke free of his impersonal investigator persona for a moment and placed one hand on her shoulder, lifting her fallen chin with the other. “The good news is that no people were present. The lot was completely destroyed, but there is nothing to suggest any lives lost.” His thumb rubbed her shoulder, comforting. “Somehow, the catastrophe was contained to that single lot, structures only.”
“It’s still horrifying,” she murmured. “Rowan, hellfire is so volatile, and it burns until it’s run out of fuel or until a sufficiently powerful extinguisher has been applied.” Her breath hitched. “The thought of…of someone dying…I’d be a terrible excuse for a human being if I said that didn’t break my heart.”
“I know.” He clasped her hands, lending her his solid strength. “The things I’ve seen in my career…I know.”
She breathed deeply and steeled her spine, putting her CEO face back on. “Ask me more questions–anything to keep me from spiraling.”
He nodded, understanding what she meant. “Do you know of Cairn Wilkins?”
Ire flashed across her elegant features. “I’m acquainted with that particular scumbag, yes.”
“Scumbag?” His brows rose in curiosity; clearly, he hadn’t been expecting her vitriol.
Tone it the fuck down, Galathynius! “Cairn Wilkins is a drug dealer, smuggler, and pathetic excuse for a man.”
“Was.”
“Was?”
“He, ah…he’s dead.”
“I’d have thought the media would have jumped on that story,” Aelin mused. “Hmm. Well, then, Wilkins was a pathetic excuse for a human being.” She blew out a controlled exhale. “I don’t say this lightly, Rowan. I was acquainted with Cairn, and he gave me every flavor of bad impression each time we crossed paths.”
“How so?” Rowan’s pen tapped against his notepad.
“He had a tendency to pop up in dark corners, stand too close, leer, and make other unacceptable gestures and behaviors while in public. As a businessman, he frequently made evening deliveries himself, which is unusual behavior for the owner of a company that purportedly delivers only to hospitals and pharmacies. Also, he was mysteriously absent from his office two days a week, every week, and his staff would only say that he was ‘away.’ The average CEO does not have recurrent absences, and if they are absent, their staff has more complete information on where they are.” She took a calming breath. “I am not the only businessperson who suspected Cairn of having, um, illicit connections. But…” She stopped.
“But what, Aelin?” Rowan prompted. Intrigue was written all over his face–he was completely invested in the information she was sharing. Most of it was true.
“But…he mentioned a partnership or two that I didn’t recognize, so I asked a colleague of mine to do some research. A quick internet search revealed that the companies Cairn had mentioned did not exist, and my colleague’s research indicated that those ‘companies’ were, in fact, drug fronts.” Eyes trained on Rowan’s deeply concentrating face, she named the false companies.
He froze mid-writing, his chiseled jaw falling ajar in utter disbelief. “What?”
“That information convinced me that Cairn had ties to the drug trade,” she continued, as if she were discussing an ordinary business transaction. “Perhaps my initial summary of him as a drug dealer and smuggler was too harsh, but my assessment of him as a paltry excuse for a man was not.”
“Indeed.” Rowan finally stopped writing, lifted his head, and met her gaze. “So you were not friendly with Wilkins?”
“I was not,” Aelin confirmed.
He nodded and closed his notepad. “That’s all of my questions, then. Thank you for your time and your willingness to work with us, Aelin.”
“It’s the least I can do.” Rising, she shook his hand, their joined hands lingering for longer than strictly necessary. “Please call me or my office if you need anything else.”
“I will.”
After escorting Rowan back to the elevator, Aelin returned to her office, sat down heavily in her chair, and dropped her face into her hands with a heaving sigh. Gods. That had been more of an ordeal than she’d anticipated. The fact that it was Rowan Whitethorn alone with her was enough to kick her pulse up a few notches, and the details she’d learned from him–and he from her–had her mind spinning with the possibilities.
She’d seen the look on his face when she’d talked about Cairn, though. The intrigue that ran deeper than pure investigative speculation. It was precisely why she’d readily offered what she knew about that disgusting spawn of hell.
Perhaps that was the nudge he needed to do some…deeper digging. The kind that involved breaking into a building late at night to snoop through computers, business records, and paperwork.
Aelin picked up her desk phone and punched Elide’s call button. “Ells?”
Her second-in-command answered almost instantly. “What do you need, Ae?”
“Disarm the external security protocols for the next few days. I’ve got a feeling we’re about to have a midnight visitor.”
~~~
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