regina, ༘₊·

TWO MONTHS LATER

Aelin received her last letter from her mother yesterday.

In a week, she’d be getting on a boat with Aedion and the few guards and servants that followed along by her parents’ demand.

Weirdly enough, as much as she loved her home, Aelin didn’t anticipate this moment as she thought she would—it felt like an eternity when she settled on a three-month trip, and now it felt like not enough time.

It hurt to think of the reason why.

Aelin sighed, willing her body to melt on the bath water she heated herself. The taut support she rested on was as comfortable as ever, though Rowan’s body wasn’t exactly pillow-like.

He he drew her closer with one arm around her waist, water sloshing around the bathtub. Aelin leaned the back of her head against his shoulder and sighed.

“You’re worried,” he said. Not a question.

“I think we should join the others soon,” she lied.

There was no such thing as hiding a lover among the Fae. They’d never acted on their affections in public—he’d been flying in and out of her window to avoid the sentries outside her door—but every creature with Fae blood in this castle could scent Rowan in Aelin and vice-versa.

“And you haven’t thought about what I said last night?”

Looks like Rowan had his mind on the same things.

He continued, “You should stay another season. What’s there to do when Orynth gets buried under snow, anyway?”

She chuckled. “I’m a crown princess. I can’t disappear for half a year to gorgeous-Fae-prince-land.”

Rowan grunted and wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, his chin on top of her head.

Aelin pointed at their breakfast tray. “Would you…?”

He absentmindedly levitated a croissant from their breakfast tray nearby, and Aelin heated her hand until it was dry to catch it.

She pouted. “This wasn’t the one I wanted.”

He chuckled, already knowing what she meant. Aelin heated the croissant for him and dried his fingers when he extended his hand.

Rowan wasn’t a pastry devotee like Aelin, but he always appreciated the food she handed him.

Once the simplest of croissants had a proper owner, Aelin demanded the croissant she was meant to have—one of the few stuffed with chocolate hazelnut ones.

“Any plans for the day?” she asked.

“Fenrys requested my company today.”

“Oh?” Aelin twisted her body to face him as much as she could. “What are you two up to?”

The stillness of her heartbeat was as far as she’d let her apprehension go. Aelin liked Fenrys, but he was a known rake and a wild card. Rowan had never came back with someone else’s scent, and they haven’t discussed the nature of their relationship, but—

“But” nothing. They haven’t discussed it, and they wouldn’t now, one week before she parted.

Two months ago, having any claim on Rowan was the last thing she wanted.

But two months is quite some time, isn’t it?

“I didn’t ask,” Rowan replied. “He’d convince me to go either way, and I don’t wanna torture myself with the knowledge beforehand.”

Aelin nodded. She leaned her body on his further and toyed with his fingers. Slid her thumb along the palm of her hand.

Would she ever feel ready to test if they were carranam? Because they were certainly something, and Aelin’s mind was endlessly wavering, torn between both options.

It certainly wasn’t both. The likelihood of having one of these bonds was incredibly low—both, between the same creatures, with one of them being demi-Fae was downright impossible. No sane Fae would consider such a thing.

Rowan kissed the crown of her head. “I’ve lost you to your thoughts again.”

“Do you still think we’re mated?”

Rowan tensed. He placed his hands on Aelin’s shoulders, both in a soothing motion, and said in a too-quiet voice, “I think we’re whatever we want to be.”

A far cry from the prince who walked into that library demanding to get to know better his “mate”.

His reply was no answer at all, yet all the answer she needed.

˜˜

“Do you think it’s too much?” Aelin asked, biting her nail.

“I absolutely think it’s too much,” Aedion replied.

Aelin sighed. “You weren’t supposed to be this honest.”

At her antechamber, the two cousins stared at the table that laid all the gifts she bought for the cook: a knife made of ungodly expensive steel that’s allegedly unbreakable and always sharp, a chest of rare ingredients and herbs, and spidersilk gloves so she never injures her hands at work. Along with a note thanking her for the cooking.

And a request for a couple of his recipes, such as the hazelnut tarts she’d eaten every day.

Aedion shook his head. “You should’ve known better after Eyllwe.”

That cook from Eyllwe’s castle. The only one Aelin could never get a recipe from, no matter how many lavish gifts she showered him with. He said he wouldn’t give the fruit loaf recipe so Aelin would visit more often, but she knew it was because he’s stingy—his tactic worked either way.

“What else do we need to sort out before we leave?” Aelin asked mostly out of curiosity for Aedion’s plans. With one exception, everything she needed was at least half-ready.

“I need to visit my mother’s grave one last time, and I’m still wondering if I should bring Rhoe a bottle of that Fae scotch.”

“Oh, gods.” Aelin shook her head. What a terrible idea. “Dad can’t handle scotch for humans. Mom will kill you—you know she will.”

Aedion’s smirk was fiendish before he let it go and said, “What about you?”

“I’ve got everything sorted out. Except maybe for the cook’s gift, and I’m still wondering if I should see the healer before departing.”

He frowned. “Are you unwell?”

“How much do you want to hear about the malfunction on my lady parts?”

His face twisted into the most tortured grimace. “None, please. I’ll get the healer before you delay it further.”

Forever the mother hen, her cousin left to send for the healer before she could protest and say it wasn’t that much of a big deal.

Aelin’s monthly cycle was supposed to come days ago. It had gotten irregular in the past out of stress or overexertion—it wouldn’t be a surprise if it happened again, but it was better to have it checked now that she was spending the next few weeks on a boat.

“The steward is summoning her,” Aedion said as he re-entered her antechamber and closed the door. “Now tell me, what are you doing about Prince Rowan?”

“What about him?” Aelin frowned. As close as they were, they never meddled in each other’s affairs like this.

“I don’t know. You smell different.”

“Different?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop repeating my questions with a question.”

“I’m doing that because I’m confused! Rowan and I are companions in merriment, not matrimony—my departure won’t hurt his feelings.” Though Aelin couldn’t say the same about herself. “And how can someone smell different?”

“I don’t know. You smell different, and I don’t know what that is—I’ve never smelled it before, but it’s similar to how Rowan smells.”

“He asked me to stay here another season.”

Aedion’s brows shot up.

“I know,” she said. “I thought of inviting him to Terrasen since he has a whole season to spare, but can you imagine the scandal? Me coming back with a Doranellian lover—gods.” Aelin threw herself on the divan. “And I’d do it, but for what end? I’d buy this endless fight with my parents and the council for a match that won’t even last.”

Aedion sat on the armchair before her, seemingly thinking hard on the subject. “Didn’t he practically demand to marry you or something? Doranelle could be a powerful ally if Queen Sellene and your dad are willing to mend that bridge and find some common ground.”

“Rowan wants the stars to align into an arrow shape and point at someone for him to love, not a regular wife.”

Besides, did she want to marry Rowan? Aelin hadn’t even considered it could get that far.

“He wants a mate, you mean?”

“Exactly. That was his premise when he suggested we would eventually marry, and if he hasn’t married in the last three hundred or so years, I doubt he’ll want a wife now.”

If Sellene was anything like Maeve, she’d hand Rowan on a silver platter for a chance to get closer to Aelin. But as someone who’s dreaded a political marriage her entire life, Aelin didn’t want it like this. Not for Rowan.

“Well, cousin.” Aedion reached for a cigar and wiggled it between his fingers so Aelin could light it for him. “After a through assessment, it’s safe to say that you’re fucked.”

Aelin had as long as a deep breath to take in the amount of shit she was in before the healer knocked on her door.

“Don’t leave,” she told Aedion on her way to the door. “If I had to sit through this, you have to tell me about Fenrys as well.”

“It’s an uncommitted affair with sporadic encounters,” her cousin said, pink tinging his cheeks.

Aelin chuckled and opened her door to greet the healer holding a small case, and gestured for the female to follow her into a more private room—one Aedion wouldn’t listen even if he wanted to.

When they were settled and Aelin explained her what happened, she showed the healer the little calendar she tracked her monthly cycles in and the questions started.

Yes, she’s had irregular cycles before, though it was unusual.

Yes, she’s feeling stressed out.

No, she hadn’t gained or lost weight recently.

Yes, she was sexually active.

The healer pointed to the bed and said, “If Your Highness doesn’t mind.”

After Aelin laid down for a proper examination, the female’s hands hovered over Aelin’s body to assess it, and touched it a moment or two. When it landed on her lower stomach, the healer said, “I think I know what’s going on.” Her face remained impassive throughout the rest of her examination. Soon enough, she told Aelin to sit back at her armchair.

“Your Highness, you’re with child.”

The entire world spun.

Aelin’s with what?

“You mean…” Aelin trailed and pointed at her belly. “Little heir?”

“Exactly.” The female sent her a warm smile. “Only healing magic can detect it so far, but the baby will develop its scent and blend into yours soon enough.”

“How soon?”

“Any time now.”

Aelin nodded, her mind blank.

“Your body seems to be healthy enough for childbearing, but you should…”

The healer went on with a million recommendations about her expecting, plus lists of foods, herbs and tonics to use so the baby grows properly. Good thing she was writing it down, because Aelin was barely listening.

She was having a baby.

One that might have turquoise or green eyes and fire or wind magic and a human or hawk animal form.

One that will either reunite two opposing kingdoms or initiate a war between them.

Holy rutting Mala. She was so screwed.

The healer cleared her throat, and that’s when Aelin realized she was gawking at a blank point rather than pretending to be attention.

“Your Highness, if you don’t mind me saying…”

“Please, go ahead.”

The healer set aside the list of recommendations to say, “Fae children are rare, even more so when one or both of the parents is full-blooded. In my hundreds of years working as a healer, I’ve never seen the Fae reject their offspring the same way humans do—babies are often cherished despite the circunstancies in which they were born.”

The healer was engaged with castle gossip, then.

“You see…” Aelin leaned forward, eyes intent on the healer’s. “It is of our best interest that your knowledge of my condition stays confidential. I’m sure I can compensate you for the good work—and discretion.”

˜˜

Aedion was still on her antechamber when Aelin walked the healer out.

“How was it?”

Aelin blinked. Gods, how was it? “I’m…” Aelin trailed, struggling to find her words in this dazzling state. “Baby.”

Aedion’s full body stiffened. “You’re loud like one, yes. Now be serious.”

“You know…” Aelin frowned at her stomach. “She said I’m with child.”

He was in front of her as quick as his Fae speed could muster, sniffing her harder than a dog does to a new acquaintance.

“You don’t smell like it.”

“It’s too soon to scent it. I wouldn’t have known without a magical healer.”

Aedion paced. And paced. And paced. So much he would’ve cut a hole into the floor were his shoes sharp.

“Did you bribe her?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s concerning how that was my first instinct once she gave me the news.”

Castle gossip—Aelin had mastered the art of controlling what was said about her as much as possible.

“We must leave—immediately.”

“I agree.” She needed the family’s trusted healer to oversee this bearing and, all of a sudden, Aelin’s chest ached for her mother. “Rowan and Fenrys must be arriving back at the castle soon. As soon as I tell him—“

“No!” Aedion interrupted. He placed both arms on Aelin’s shoulders so she could sit on an armchair, then kneeled before her and said, “I admire you so much for wanting to do the right thing, but that’s too dangerous. You’re carrying a Whitethorn. Doranelle finally has a claim on you.”

Aelin nodded. He was right. This was the fulfillment of Queen Maeve’s dreams, and they didn’t know Queen Sellene enough to risk it.

“Aelin, we’re alone in a foreign land that neighbors Doranelle. We’re closer to their army than ours. You’re in a vulnerable position.” He held her face with both hands, maintaining strong eye contact as he said, “We need to go home. We’ll need an entire team to come up with a proper agreement between kingdoms, and…” Aedion swallowed. “We may or may not need an army.”

˜˜

It was the second time Aelin tried to get on a damned ship.

The salt air reeked of fish, and that alone was enough to make her queasy.

When Aelin first got on the ship yesterday, she retched her guts out before it even departed—which she was glad for, because they got to leave before being trapped in that vomit-inducing monstrosity for weeks.

After that, they stayed in an inn overnight and Aedion bought a month’s worth of everything anti-nausea that healer—Mala bless her—wrote down, and a few things more.

Now, Aelin was safely tucked into her room in the ship, near the stern where the motion of the sea is less noticeable. Even with the thick wood between her and the harbor, she could still make out the sound of the gulls’ cries, slap of water against the shore and people calling to one another all added to the mayhem that was Varese’s harbor. She’d be watching it, but her window faced the sea, and Aelin wasn’t in a lively mood today.

She missed Rowan.

It was true that carrying a child left mothers-to-be moody, but it’d be unfair to blame it for the full extent of her feelings—she blamed Rowan as well.

Rowan and his dry humor and hard muscles that felt soft when cuddling—every time her chest ached with longing for him, it was absolutely his fault.

The only thing Aelin didn’t blame him for entirely was for his seed taking root inside of her. After her mother spent her entire fertile life trying to conceive and ended up with only one child, Aelin vowed to never take a contraceptive tonic—facing the judgement of bearing a child out of marriage was better than leaving Terrasen without an heir.

And that reminder only made her more eager to go home. The lords will be livid that a decision about Aelin’s own body escaped their control, but that might be overshadowed by the fact that they’ll be dealing with Doranelle soon.

It would be chaos in every scenario Aelin tried to predict, and she just wanted it to be over with.

Aelin got up and met the sentries outside her door—one of her father’s requirements for her trip.

Gods, her dad will be so proud when he gets to see what she can do with her flames now.

The thought made her think of Rowan again. She was doomed.

The sentries jumped, wide-eyed when she opened her door.

“Why is it taking us so long to leave?”

One of the males glanced at the narrow hallway before he said, “There’s an issue with a stowaway. Word is that he’s been raising hell in other ships too.”

Aelin frowned. “So he’s a bandit?”

He shrugged. “That’s all I know. We’re under strict orders that no one other than Prince Aedion should get in or out of your room for now.”

She closed the door, laid back on the bed and grabbed a book. There were plenty of people outside dealing with the bandit, and Aelin couldn’t put Terrasen’s heir at risk by engaging in fights she could avoid.

She didn’t think Aedion would find a ship with a room this nice at the last minute, but Aelin was grateful for it—if she was going to be miserable, she might as well be doing it in a comfortable, spacious room.

For a moment, Aelin heard shouting outside. She straightened herself into a seating position at the bed and willed her flames to stay ready to attack. It was gone soon.

They must’ve caught him—Aelin’s side of the ship was filled with guards.

She focused back on her book and throughly judged the fictional princess’ choices. Gods, who wrote this thing?

A loud crack stole her attention as the glass from her window shattered under the wind’s strength.

That wind she knew too well.

Aelin’s entire body tensed. As she got up, a hawk flew past her broken window and into her room.

He shifted into his Fae form at the same time the guards burst into her room.

“Your Highness, are you—THE BANDIT!”

Aelin grew a wall of flame between them and the guards before another fight could ensue.

“That’s not a bandit,” she shouted, “that’s Prince Rowan of Doranelle!”

To be fair, he didn’t look princely at all. With clothes torn at the seams and a frazzled expression of somber eyes and disheveled hair, Rowan looked like a tramp or a drunk rather than a prince.

Aelin shooed away the guards before she could fully focus on him, but Rowan had barely noticed them, holding her closer without caring about their privacy.

“How dare you,” he murmured against her head. “How dare you leave town with just a goodbye letter thanking me for the orgasms.”

In that moment, all Aelin knew was the swell of warmth she felt on her chest when he was near—if she had any problems before this moment, it was lost to her.

She chuckled and nipped his chin. “You knew I’d be leaving either way.”

“And you should grant a male his time to fix that.” Rowan kissed her cheek, jaw, nipped her neck. “How are you—“

Rowan sniffed along her neck and froze. All warmth was gone when he took a step back from her.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the betrayed look in her lover’s eyes.

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the very first point that i want to make is that celaena and aelin are the same person. point blank, period. she is one and the same. celaena was merely a mask born out of a lifetime of trauma. she isn't two separate people, or two separate entities in one body. she's always been aelin. her story was about her embracing every part of herself and her destiny, and that included dropping the mask of celaena and just being herself. she has only ever been aelin, hiding behind a name to run from her past and her future.

i want to also make it clear that i don't hate sam. i don't necessarily like him either, but i don't hate him. this isn't like an i hate sam!!! post and rant. it's just what i've gathered from reading the text. he was always just lukewarm to me. which brings me to my next point.

sam deserved more than what he got. he didn't deserve that death, he didn't deserve all the abuse he suffered through his life. he deserved more. he died a young and insanely tragic death, and never had the chance to grow into himself and better his life like he wanted to. it's sad. and i think his death gets romanticized because of what he meant to aelin at the time, but i think a lot of her reaction had to do with guilt. it was entirely genuine, and i think she did have love for him to some degree, but i think a lot of it came from guilt.

their love for each other came out of convenience. i think it was important to both of them, especially for aelin learning and growing as a young woman. but it was incredibly short lived, the time they had together. but neither of them really had options, and i think this gets overlooked quite a bit. who else was aelin going to go for? arobynn? tern? archer? it is very easy to have feelings for someone when they're the only semi-decent person around. aelin was starved for affection. after her parents died, she only knew abuse. sam only knew abuse. and the naturally gravitated toward each other because of that. sam could have had lysandra, sure, but sam and aelin were with each other all the time so they would naturally lean into the other.

from the beginning, they wanted different things. and that was pretty clear. i think aelin says sam would have been a good king out of guilt and grief. sam wouldn't have been a good king. maybe he could have been, of course. but from what we saw, not much really indicated that he would have been fit to help her rule.

i don't think aelin's truth would have gone over well with sam. i mean, he couldn't even handle her being arobynn's favorite without so much resentment. he couldn't stand that arobynn preferred aelin. she also, at any point, could have told him her truth. but she didn't. she didn't feel comfortable or safe enough, and that is the biggest sign to me that they weren't any sort of mates. i'll get into that whole thing in a little bit, but the fact that she could never tell him her truth says so much. and it gets overlooked.

realistically, i don't think their relationship would have ever lasted. they wanted different things and i think over the course of even a year together, they probably would have grown apart and gone separate ways. or they would have stayed in the relationship out of familiarity and it wouldn't have blossomed into a true, burning love.

the mate thing. y'all, i just can't with this one. mates are said to be equals. and celaena was always aelin. you can't separate the two. it isn't like a night and day transformation, save her getting more mature and learning to use her magic and embracing her destiny. sam was never her equal. ever. he is no match for aelin, and even when she didn't have magic, still no. this one really gets to me because there is a lot of separation of aelin from celaena in this argument. she never belonged to sam, she never belonged to dorian. aelin has only ever belonged to herself, and rowan as her equal understands and loves that. and if you want to further make the argument that sam was celeana's mate, aelin admits that she fell in love with rowan while she was still hiding behind celaena's mask. she knew they were mates and carranam in heir of fire. she literally says that. it's black and white in the text.

aelin's love for rowan dwarfs her love for sam by tenfold. more than that, even. aelin has said numerous times that her feelings for rowan were far beyond anything she'd ever felt for anyone else. if sam were aelin's mate, it would have been an acknowledgement of the love being equal. it's just like how rowan didn't feel for lyria how he feels for aelin. that whole relationship was manipulated to break rowan to break aelin. if sam was ever aelin's mate, maeve would have used that to manipulate her even further. maeve was twisting the fate of aelin's life centuries before she was born. what happened to sam was merely a tragedy because arobynn is a petty fuck and used that to hurt aelin, but it isn't quite the same as everything that maeve did. aelin literally shot herself through multiple universes to get back to rowan. sadly, i just don't think she would have ever done the same for sam.

i think people feel so strongly over sam's death because sam was an important person to her life. i personally felt sad about it out of empathy for aelin, but not because of sam, really. yes, it was tragic. yes, he deserved more. but for me, and most of the people that agree with me on this, we feel for aelin because of her loss.

aelin suffered survivor's guilt like a bitch. her parents, sam, nehemia, even what she imagined happened to aedion. her musings at the grave were a result of that. she saw him through rose colored lenses when she thought back on their memories. in tab, i feel like it's pretty clear that he was kind of a jerk. he had his moments, sure, but we saw more of them arguing and him being angry and resentful than we did any tender moments between them. she didn't even know he liked her until he was screaming it at her. and that says a lot. none of his actions leading up to that moment showed or told her that he had any feelings for her beyond toleration. speaking from personal experiences, when people die it's easier to look back on the good moments you shared with them, or the good parts of them, because you feel shitty and awful and gross otherwise. again, i'm not saying sam was an awful person, because he wasn't. but i don't think he was the pure little cinnamon roll half the fandom makes him out to be. when i read tab, i was excited to see more of their relationship because of what i saw other people say about sam and how aelin remembered him. but reading it, i was like, hey, he was kind of a jerk. and that's okay. a lot of it can be attributed to him being young, naive, and a dumb teenage boy. but based off of what people say and how aelin remembers him, you'd think he was the be all end all and just the sweetest little sweetheart to ever walk the earth, but he wasn't. i think her survivor's guilt had a lot to do with that. she wasn't remembering the bad things, the arguments, the fights. she was remembering the good things and seeing what could have been their future through rose colored lenses but i don't think it would have turned out well either way. i don't see them working long term. i think in a lot of ways he was similar to chaol, and i think she started to fall for chaol in the first place because he reminded her of sam, but that's something else entirely. but again, she's remembering all the good and not thinking so much of the bad. why would she? her life has been actual hell for years and years.

i could probably keep going, but i've been working on this for over an hour and there are other things i want to do tonight. but these are my thoughts! again, if you don't like it, or me, you don't have to follow me. you can even block me, and that's okay.

Aelin Galathynius Seen At Football Game As Fans Continue To Wait For Album Release

“You do know he won’t want you for more than a night, right?” Lysandra asked while Aelin looked for Rowan Whitethorn at the afterparty with hawk-like precision.

“I hope so, yes,” she replied.

Aedion’s groan was loud even with the club’s music and hooting.

It shouldn’t be this hard to find the team captain at a game afterparty, but looking for someone she didn’t know in person wasn’t the best thing to do at crowded, massive, and poorly-lit nightclub.

Rowan Whitethorn. All she knew were his piercing green eyes that made her memorize his face even through a picture, and that he was a player in and out of the field. His reputation preceded him. The only thing Aelin could judge him was for how hot he is, though the media diagnosed him as an ‘incorrigible womanizer’ while experts called him the greatest football player of this generation.

And most importantly, her ex-boyfriend’s favorite active athlete.

“Are you sure you want to keep up with this?” Aedion asked, glancing between her and the crowd. “You weren’t even that into Chaol.”

Aelin sipped her margarita and shrugged. “This isn’t about my feelings towards him, it’s about his disrespect towards me.”

She knew her cousin well enough to know that he wasn’t comfortable leaving Aelin alone, half-drunk and mini-skirted at a bar filled with strangers, and Aedion knew her well enough to know she was carrying on with her plan anyway.

Lysandra proceeded to blabber about cultural differences between hot dogs from every country she’s been in with Aelin for this last tour, and Aedion ate it up with rapt attention. Aelin, however, looked around in a way her friend saw right through, feigning boredom to search for the one person she was here for tonight.

She couldn’t see everyone’s faces, but she could easily see how the crowd’s pattern shifted like the Red Sea parting for someone with a presence as strong as a team captain’s. Aelin saw people move and heads turn before seeing the man himself, and that’s how she found her target.

It was so easy to spot the difference between the moment he saw her from the moment he noticed her—a millisecond was enough to spot the blooming glint in the eyes of an archer who’s just found his prey.

The look of womanizer who’s just found a maneater in sheep’s clothing.

One, two—a slow smile—three, four. One polite tug and his gaze was drawn away, but she kept eye contact for long enough to get his attention.

“It’s done,” she told Lysandra and Aedion by the high bar table. Their reactions were much different—one excited, the other reluctant—but they knew it was their cue to leave.

Rowan knew where to find her, now all she had to do was wait. Aelin wasn’t so desperate she’d chase a man.

Her ex, Chaol, was never at these events to avoid his father—the CFO of one of the companies that sponsored the White Hawks—but that didn’t mean he didn’t love the sport. He watched every single game with Dorian, and Rowan Whitethorn’s autograph had a special spot in his hallway, among other framed signed jerseys from his favorite athletes.

Yes, Aelin googled every single one from that wall. The list wasn’t too big, and after crossing off every one that was dead or too old for her, the problematic ones, and the married ones… let’s say there was barely a list after what was supposed to be an initial selection, and she almost gave up on the plan. Aelin might be looking for someone to sleep with to get back at Chaol, but that didn’t mean she’d sleep with anyone just for the sake of revenge. Ew.

She got lucky that Chaol’s favorite athlete in their age group looked this cute.

One day, she’s going steady with her three-month long situationship; the next, her publicist calls her in the middle of a family dinner to tell her Chaol was caught looking way too cozy with another girl. They’d never discussed exclusivity in their relationship, so something they could’ve figured out in a conversation turned into something bigger because he was stupid enough to be photographed.

And if Aelin’s humiliation was public, Chaol’s payback would be too.

A hand on Aelin’s shoulder caught her attention—it was meant to only call her attention, but now the man kept a steady grasp on her that slid down to her elbow.

A pair of dark brown eyes assessed her with curiosity. “Aelin Galathynius,” he said, eyes now trailing down to the long stretch of exposed skin of her legs.

Aelin yanked her elbow back and was about to ask who this creep was, but didn’t get to it.

“Cairn.” She heard the name in a deep voice, but didn’t see his mouth move. A hand reached his shoulder from behind, and another man—the man she was looking for—stepped into their circle. He was even more magnetic up close.

“What.” Cairn said to his captain, terse.

“Coach wants to talk to you.”

“Is it about that foul?”

“Gotta ask him, man.”

Cairn gave Aelin one last look, then sighed and left off—resigned yet pissed.

Rowan took his time, alcohol-free beer in hand while he maintained a steady presence by her side. In that moment, Aelin decided that photoshop and celebrity takes did him no favors.

From the line between his brows the magazines smoothed out to that look he gave his teammate—not a disappointed-yet-resigned one with the politeness publicists groomed into public personas, but the look of a man who knew what he wanted, and wasn’t above bypassing his teammate in order to get it. The person she saw online was a polished version of the little part of the man she met now, and Aelin just happened to like him best rougher around the edges.

“Did he?” she said.

“Did he what?”

“Did Gavriel want to talk to him?”

Rowan smirked. Took a slow sip of his drink. “The thing about Coach Gav—if one of his players is there to listen, he always has an advice to give.”

He might as well have said ‘no’. Though he didn’t have to—even if Aelin wasn’t focused on taking Whitethorn to bed tonight, that Cairn person’s vibes were all off, she wouldn’t have given him any attention either way.

“I’m Rowan.”

“I know.” She giggled. “If I’m crashing a game afterparty, I should at least know the captain’s name.”

Not exactly crashing, since every man in her family was usually invited to this kind of sports thing, but this definitely wasn’t her scene.

“I think there’s a 50/50 chance you’re someone I should know,” he said with an apologetic expression.

She never found this offensive. When a good portion of the world was bombarded with Aelin’s name whether they want it or not, finding someone oblivious to her existence was somewhat refreshing.

“I’m Aelin.”

“Aelin,” he trailed with a faraway look in his eye. “Aelin, Aelin, Aelin…” The turning engines inside his head were clear as day until it clicked. “Aelin! From that Yulemas special, right?”

Aelin burst out laughing. She had been lucky enough throughout her career that none of her work could ever be called a ‘flop’, but that Yulemas special was the closest thing she had to it. The show was good enough and so was the viewership, but let’s say she did not sign up for another one the next year.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a confused, but mostly amused look.

“You’re the first person I meet that knows me because of that Yulemas special, that’s all.”

Rowan ducked his chin, and Aelin was sure that blush on his cheek was just the strobe lights tricking her eyes. “I don’t really keep up with social media, or celebrity stuff… or anything that isn’t work, actually. But my cousins put that show on every Yulemas dinner.”

Aelin grinned. “That’s sweet.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself because the song shifted to something even louder, and the crowd erupted in cheers. When it subsided, he leaned closer and said, “Can I take you to a booth upstairs?”

Aelin reared back to read his face. “Just a booth?” she asked with one brow quirked up.

“Just a private booth.”

A slow smirk danced on her lips. “Lead the way, then.”

Rowan pointed to the general direction they were going and trailed behind her, but his hand found her back and stayed there when he noticed the sets of eyes following Aelin around the club—marking his territory.

However, they came to an abrupt stop when one of his teammates quite literally ran their way.

“Rowie!” Moonbeam shouts, trying to get Rowan’s attention. “D’you have spare pants?”

The man stared, motionless. “What?”

His teammate turned around and pointed at the ripped seam on his bottom that exposed his underwear. “Got an extra pair or not?”

“How in hell did you—“

“It’s the DJ’s fault!”

Partying too hard, then. Aelin didn’t know Fenrys Moonbeam personally, but he was known to keep it as classy as a wannabe D-lister at their first Grammy afterparty—except he was a world-class athlete.

The man’s eyes widened when he finally noticed Aelin, and he pointed at his butt again and said, “Can you sew this for me?”

“Dude.” Rowan cut him off, eyes hard as steel.

“What?”

“Seriously?”

“What did I do?”

“That’s fucking sexist, man.”

Fenrys gaped. He looked between her and Rowan, then flailed his arms in an empty gesture, fumbling to articulate himself. “I didn’t just see a chick and ask her to sew, she went to fashion school!”

Rowan blinked, then sent her a confused look.

“I did,” Aelin said between giggles. “Find me a thread and needle and I’ll fix it.”

Fenrys went off with his new quest, and Rowan took her upstairs. When Aelin asked him about his friend finding them again, he just grumbled something about ‘the boyo’ always finding him whether Rowan wants it or not.

The private booths were much more comfortable—with softer music and table service, the atmosphere was quite different from the dance floor’s madness.

“I really need to write a new single if the Yulemas show and fashion school is what I’m being referenced for these days,” Aelin said after they were settled.

Rowan oh-so-smoothly sneaked his arm around her. “That’s what you’re doing now? Writing?”

“Writing feels like a too-strong word for what I’m doing now,” she said with a slight grimace. “Let’s say I’m torturing my piano while my manager sends me contacts to write it all for me and get the album out in time.”

He frowned. “Can you do that? Hire other people to write it for you, I mean.”

Aelin laughed—she didn’t mean to, it just tore out of her. He was so oblivious to her line of work, it was endearing.

Rowan just picked another one of his alcohol-free beer, not seeming to be offended about her reaction. “That’s also public knowledge I’m clueless about, isn’t it?”

Aelin bit her lower lip and gave him an amused look that hopefully was answer enough. Then held both hands up and said, “Look, all I know about football is that the ball goes in the goal, and I look cute in your team’s colors. Nothing else.” She tapped the side of her head. “Nada.”

“That can’t be true.” His face was an inch closer to hers now.

“Maybe I need some teaching,” she whispered, eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips.

This. This is where he slips. This is how Aelin finds the first red flag before he lured her into his lips. Because red flags are the trail of breadcrumbs she leaves to not lose herself in a man, and she needed them more than anything now that she was enjoying herself too much for a revenge plan. Please, big hot guy, please mansplain to me your favorite sport.

Instead, he held her neck—the goosebumps down her body were due to the cold temperature, she was sure—and murmured back, “But I doubt you want to learn now.”

Oh, shit. Before her mind even registered it, she held his cheek and tugged his lips into hers, the soft feel of his pillowy—

“Rowie!” They heard Fenrys before he was in their sight, kiss broken—half-kiss, actually. The man sighed when he found their booth and plopped on the seat next to Aelin, sandwiching her between the two players.

“Turns out management keeps an emergency sewing kit,” he said, baffled. “Can you believe it?”

“I really can’t,” Rowan grumbled.

“Now if you excuse me… Aelin, could you…?” Fenrys trailed, pointing at the wall.

She complied and stared at the wall until granted permission to look back. When she did, Fenrys held his pants with one hand and a towel around his hips with another.

She grabbed the piece of clothing and did a quick work of it. Her days of fashion school were long gone, but muscle memory got her on it like time wasn’t even a thing.

Rowan still looked a bit grumpy about Fenrys’ intrusion, but she didn’t blame him. They kinda got cockblocked, but Whitethorn’s was kinda doing it for her.

“How did you even know she went fashion school?” he asked.

It was public knowledge about her, but the kind not even the casual fans knew. And if Rowan was asking, his teammate must not be a die-hard fan.

Fenrys smirked at Aelin. “I memorize a few random facts about you to impress the ladies.”

Aelin chuckled and playfully rolled her eyes. She knew this move existed, but no one that used it had been so bold to say it to her face.

She handed the pair of pants back to Fenrys, and kept her eyes closed while he put it back on and blabbered something about his brother mocking him forever after this.

“I think we all will, Boyo,” Rowan said. “Now get lost.”

“Thanks, Aelin!” he said with a salute on his way out. “I’m streaming your next album so hard—it’ll be another #1!”

Aelin groaned and sagged back on her seat, but only Rowan was there to see it.

“Are you really triggered by any mention of your next album?”

She shrugged. “Nah, just being dramatic.” Aelin put her hands on his shoulders, slowly so she’d feel his pecs on her way up. “But I’d feel better if you didn’t speak at all.”

His lips met hers for another kiss, and it tore into her bloodstream like discovering a new favorite melody, his mouth on hers as he tilted her head to taste her better. Aelin ran her fingers through the short strands of his hair while Rowan tugged her body closer, ran his fingers over the exposed skin of her legs.

A miniskirt wasn’t the most practical attire, but it did prevent her from being stupid sometimes—if it wasn’t for the looming threat of accidentally flashing the whole VIP section of the club, Aelin would be in Rowan’s lap by now.

Rowan grabbed the hair by her nape to allow him space on her neck, and Aelin just shut her eyes closed to let that man and his wicked mouth draw every shiver he wanted out of her. With his hands on her body and his lips on her neck, she let her guard down and allowed him something she rarely gave other men—consent to play her like his favorite instrument, walls as down as her panties if this was his way of taking control.

His trail of kisses went upwards, from her collarbone to her ear. “I was thinking—“

“You’re really hot and all, but I don’t sneak into club bathrooms.”

The low rumble of his throat as he chuckled was so sinful Aelin felt it between her thighs. “I don’t drink Dom Pérignon in plastic cups, baby.” Rowan whispered, his breath fanning her ear in a maddening way. “And I like to savor it—let the taste linger on my tongue.”

All her thoughts vanished. Aelin only had half a mind to ask, “You drive?”

She’d come with Aedion, wherever he is now.

“Sure,” he said. “Let me just…” Rowan grabbed a napkin to remove the lipstick that was supposed to be kiss-proof—it did a better job than most, but it still smudge his cupid’s bow and bottom lip.

“That’s Pat McGrath, babe. You’ll need it surgically removed.”

Rowan frowned. “Pat McAfee?”

Their exit was quite different from when they entered the VIP section. Rowan’s possessive-yet-polite grasp on her fully left the latter part, greedily taking hold of her on their way out. He also brushed aside two teammates that sought him, likely afraid of being interrupted by them like Moonbeam did.

The valet was already outside with his car when Rowan noticed the paparazzi outside. He looked at them and back at Aelin, brows furrowed in thought.

“I usually just go,” he said, sounding unsure. “What do you usually— what do you want me to do?”

“I’m a big girl. Let’s do this.” Aelin squared her shoulders and quickly fixed her hair.

The flashes were a dizzying contrast to the club’s dark ambience, but Rowan kept her steady with one hand protectively on her back, trying and failing to shield her from the onslaught of cameras.

He opened the passenger door for her and ran to the driver’s side, and soon the madness faded out, leaving just the two of them and the soft music on the radio.

As the mood settled and the city lights became blurs around them, it dawned on Aelin that she was about to be unwrapped, bended and spread out by a man who was too dreamy for his own good—the worst kind in the long run.

What was she doing? Aelin wasn’t even the one-night stand type—she wasn’t used to long relationships either, but that wasn’t the point. The “incriminating” pictures of her with Rowan were taken and out soon, and Chaol—whose existence she completely forgot about—would be pissed already.

Aelin steadied herself for what she was about to do, red flag on the floor for him to pick up and wave once she did it.

“I have a counteroffer.”

“Do tell.”

“You drop me off at my apartment on Goldryn St, and I’ll see you around.”

If Rowan was pissed or offended, he didn’t show. Instead, he quickly studied her expression, a bit confused, but once her face didn’t waver, he gave his car screen a pointed look and asked her to type her address in the GPS.

Aelin did vow that she would never settle for anything less than a green flag collector, she didn’t know why it was so unsettling to see one live.

Not that she would settle anytime soon, it was just something that crossed her mind.

Even if she was willing to have a fling with Rowan, she didn’t regret turning him down tonight. If a man wasn’t willing to chase a girl he fancied, what was he chasing in life?

The car pulled up at the building’s entrance, empty except for the doorman by the glass doors. No paps in sight.

Rowan’s jaw fell. “This is too peaceful, even for a spare home.”

“That’s actually my dad’s apartment, for when he has a late work night and doesn’t feel like making the drive home.”

No doubt Aelin’s own home would be absolute mayhem after tonight, that’s why her dad left his safe haven at her disposal.

“Your dad…?”

“He’s in politics.”

Rowan’s face contorted into a grimace, earning him a laugh from her.

“But we don’t wanna ruin our goodbyes by talking politics, do we?” she said.

“Absolutely not.”

Rowan jumped from his seat and circled his car to open the passenger door for her and gave her a hand to help her stand up. Except he didn’t let go. He kept her hand gently yet firmly clutched to his and brought it to his lips, giving her knuckles a chivalrous kiss while his eyes looked borderline devilish.

“I’ll see you around?” he asked, repeating her exact words from the ‘counteroffer’.

She grinned. “I’ll see you around.”

Aelin walked the few steps to the building, but stopped before the front door and turned to take a glimpse of him. Rowan stayed leaned against his car, arms crossed while he waited for her to walk in.

She wiggled her fingers at him over her shoulder with a sweet smile and watched his serene grin turn sly.

Aelin saw right through his chivalry, the dangerous promise hidden beneath looking near transparent to her eyes.

Aelin Galathynius Watches With Rowan Whitethorn Play Amid Chaol Westfall Breakup Rumors

Aelin Galathynius’ Fans Spot ‘Lipstick Smudge’ On Rowan Whitethorn After White Hawks’ Afterparty

Rowan Whitethorn Follows Aelin Galathynius On Instagram After Rendezvous With The Singer!

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Aelin would have owned up to the idea of eating alone, she was a confident woman--she didn’t need anyone’s validation.  By now, it was too late.  Nearly an hour had passed since she’d been seated and she’d told her waitress she was waiting for someone else.  That combined with the fact that she look sexy as hell with a tight green dress, her hair perfectly curled and her make up sharper and neater than any awards show actress.

She’d have to live up to the fact that she’d been stood up.

Hell.

She wished she could say this was the first time Sam had done this.  Wished she could say that he would make it up to her later.  Wished she could say that it didn’t really bother her.

Aelin glanced at her phone.  One missed text but that was from Elide.

>>Elide: anything?

<<Aelin: no. I texted him twice.  It’s been forty-five mins.  I’ve well and good passed the pathetic mark.

>>Elide: ur not pathetic.  Imma report his insta for porn hold on

Aelin rolled her eyes at the message.  Elide had been her friend since college when they were first paired together on a project.  It had turned into a mess of over caffeination and potential misuse of school property but they’d been inseparable ever since.  It was Elide who had helped Aelin get the job she had now with Terrasen Publishing as a content creator.  She had a full social media platform where she could share books, reviews and all the likes.  She even hosted the company's podcast on a bi-weekly basis. 

As far as Aelin was concerned, she was successful.  She was capable.  She was well on her way to reaching so many of her goals.

Sam, it seemed, couldn’t care less about her.

This was supposed to be a dinner to celebrate her promotion.  Dorian, the actual CEO of the company had allowed her to open her own department as Lead Content Creator.  She’d be her own manager, get a pay-raise, have more liberties with what she could do, get an office credit card, hell she’d be able to hire her own assistant.  She’d told Sam she wanted to celebrate by coming here to her favorite restaurant no matter how expensive it was.  She’d worked so hard to get here after all.

And how here she was—alone.

She knew Sam was busy, he was a lawyer after all, but after nearly eight months of dropping everything for him, she’d thought he would give her just one night.  One night for her.

Aelin felt tears begin to prick that back of her eyes and had never been more grateful for the dim lighting of this restaurant. Hopefully no one would see the silver lining her eyes, the growing flush of embarrassment to her skin.  

It was made all the worse when Aelin noticed a familiar person walking towards her.  Someone she wanted to see even less than she wanted to admit that Sam was standing her up.

Hell.

Kaltain Rompier had been hired after Aelin by a few months and ever since decided she was the one who should be in charge of everything in the office.  To the point of undermining and condescending everything Aelin did.  In the end, Aelin was the one with the promotion and the office but Kaltain still made her life a living hell any chance she got.

“Aelin,” Kaltain crooned as she came to the table.  And it wasn’t even to give a brief pass by, no, Kaltain had a look of feral delight gleaming in her black eyes and Aelin could feel the attack coming. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Behind Kaltain was her date, a man Aelin had never seen before and average enough looking.  He didn’t seem to be even paying attention to the drama Kaltain was eager to whip out.

“Kaltain.” Aelin offered one of her own beaming smiles in return.  Despite the tension radiating through her body, she was determined to be civil.  She would not stoop to the other woman’s level. She would not stoop.

Kaltain didn’t bother waiting for the kill.  “All alone tonight?”

Her full red lips pouted sympathetically, but Aelin had spent enough time around the woman to know how much delight she was taking in Aelin’s potential misery and embarrassment.

She could lie—her date was in the bathroom.  She could own up to eating alone. On a Friday night.  At the hottest restaurant in Terrasen.  She could use Aedion as a scapegoat and have him come by the office on Monday and make a big show of—

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep, accented voice cut through Aelin’s wall panic as a giant, stupidly attractive man slid between Kaltain and Aelin’s table. “Traffic was impossible tonight.”

Aelin stared up slack jawed at her savior.

Rowan Whitethorn in all his glory stood before her.  His silver hair was coiffed back out of his face, chin riddled with stubble, and a black suit that fit his broad frame perfectly.  His green eyes gave her a significant look, one brow raised meaningfully.

Aelin pulled herself together and let out a relaxed, charmed laugh.  At least she hoped that’s what it sounded liked because this was Rowan Whitethorn.  The company’s biggest author.  One of the most sought-after writers at conventions who had multiple Hollywood deals piling at his feet.

He was also the biggest ass Aelin had ever worked with.

“Let’s hope you're not this late for your next deadline,” she said, voice light and easy.  Or as close to it as possible.  But Aelin could see a muscle tick in Rowan’s jaw and watched as a smirk drew across his face.  Savior of the night or not, she wanted to punch him.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Rowan drawled, his thick Scottish accent low and hard. “We know how punctual you are.”

“It’s a good quality to have,” she said.  She narrowed her eyes to which Rowan grinned.  He was insufferable. An ass.  Arrogant.  And—

Rowan flicked a lazy look at Kaltain. “Was there something you needed Kaltain?”

The dismissal was clear and left no room for argument.  It was such a fascinating sight to see Kaltain at a loss for words that Aelin forgot her disdain for Rowan.  Kaltain had always been a busy body around the office, always gossiping and looking for a way to undermine everyone else as long as she came out on top.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Aelin,” Kaltain said, her cold eyes cutting into Aelin.  And with that, she turned away with her date.

It was far too satisfying watching them go.  Even Aelin had to admit that.  Though, she’d be damned if she admitted so to Rowan.

She finally, reluctantly, turned her attention to him.  

He leaned in his chair looking utterly at ease with himself and the situation.  With his features as stoney and impossible to read as ever it would appear the last five minutes hadn’t even occurred.  But Aelin could see the subtle gleam in his eyes.  Sharp and calculating like a hawk.

She’d had five years to get to know him, he was Terrasen’s biggest client and she’d been the one to personally promote his first book on her review blog, not to mention act as a beta reader for early drafts of his work.

He was talented.  Remarkable even.  She’d never seen anyone wield a metaphor or create an image as he could.  It was a shame they hated each other.

It had started innocently enough.  In her critiques early on, Aelin hadn’t held back.  She’d given the early drafts of his manuscript’s hell.  She wouldn’t apologize for it.  Wouldn’t he want his book to be the best it could?  To have enough feedback to work with and accept or decline?  Hell, he didn’t even have to take most of her opinions if he didn’t want to, but she was on the team of readers.

Well, he hadn’t taken well to most of her words and Aelin found a giant box of red pens waiting on her desk one morning from him.

Seems like you ran out last week.

Asshole.

She didn’t hold back though.  Not at all.

Between overly marked up pages, passive aggressive notes, and blissful ignorance—they’d never known harmony in all their time of working together.  The closest they’d gotten was in the last seven months while Rowan was finishing up a new manuscript and had avoided the office all together.  

Aelin could hardly admit it to herself, but it had been a strange few months. She’d found herself looking up to catch a glimpse of him in the hallway in all that time.  She hated herself just a little for it.

“What do you want, Whitethorn?” she asked, she did her best not to glare, knowing their table was in direct line of sight of where Kaltain was now sitting.

Rowan raised a brow as he leaned forward and took Aelin’s wine glass.  He took a long sip, never breaking eye contact.

“That’s the thanks I get?” he asked, accent a low rumble that Aelin could feel straight in her belly. “By my accounts, I saved you from a rather embarrassing conversation.”

Aelin raised her chin. “Kaltain is harmless.”

Rowan only grinned. “Oh, aye?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Aelin insisted.

“She’s never been an easy person and I doubt my time away has changed anything,” Rowan said.  He spoke with such sincerity that Aelin could only stare at him.

In her silence, the waitress came back by their table with a new glass of wine for Rowan.  The bastard then went ahead and ordered for her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“We’re on a date, are we not?” he asked.

“Not.” She stared at him; his eyes sharp even in the low lights of the restaurant.  His tattoos peaked out beneath the collar of his shirt.  She’d never seen them in their full glory and now really wished she could see just a little bit more.

“Shame,” Rowan sighed.  He glanced idly into the bread basket and took the one remaining roll for himself. “I really was going to pay.”

Aelin sighed and leaned back in her chair.  As she looked at him, she tried to understand what he was trying to accomplish with this.  He’d chased off Kaltain and saved her from feeling like a fool…but why?

They’d always played a game like this--one of touch and go, of give and take, of hate and hate some more.  

She decided to try and approach this from another direction.

“What are you even doing here?” she asked, fingering the stem of her own wine glass.

That grin of his returned, a flash, but impossible to miss.  Aelin tried to reel herself in.  She couldn’t let him rile her up like this.

“Was out with some friends.” He nodded to the bar behind her.

Aelin turned in her seat, catching sight of two other men, one with curly blond hair and the other with a cut of shaggy black hair.  The blond gave her an enthusiastic wave when he saw her looking.  Aelin scowled.

“We were celebrating my finishing another book and getting Havilliards seal of approval,” Rowan explained, drawing Aelin’s attention back. “And I saw you sitting by yourself when Kaltain showed up.  I know the two of you don’t really get along.”

And how long did you wait before stepping in? She wanted to ask.  But she knew she wouldn’t want the answer.  He’d probably been there since the beginning watching as she slowly spun into madness.

She glanced at her phone but didn’t touch it.  It hadn’t lit up or vibrated or given any indication that anyone was worried about her.  She tried to not let it sting. A full hour at this point.  Maybe she should break it off with Sam.  Officially this time.

“I figured you’d rip my head off if I came over sooner,” Rowan continued, his voice softening just a touch. “Figured it was none of my business.”

Aelin didn’t need his pity, didn’t want it either.  “Yeah, well it’s not.”

He didn’t get the chance to respond as the waitress returned with their food.  A steak for Rowan, salmon for Aelin.  Exactly what she would have wanted for herself, even with the side of risotto.

Her stomach growled just loud enough that Rowan definitely heard.  She grabbed her fork and started eating.  Angrily.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Aelin pointed her fork at him.

“New book have a title?” she asked.

“Why would you care?”

“So I can figure out all the puns to call it on my podcast,” she said.

Rowan smirked. “I’m on your podcast now?”

“You? No.  Your book?  Sure.”  She took another bite of salmon and sighed. “It’s more fun that way.”

“Right,” he said. “‘Course.”

She watched him as he cut his steak, medium rare, and dredged it in a bit of peppercorn sauce.  He wasn’t at all uncomfortable with the act they found themselves in.  Not at all concerned over the fact that his friends were leaving (Aelin couldn’t help but check).  He was focused on her.

She didn’t know how she felt about that.

“So, the book?”

He paused before shrugging just barely. “Nothing special.  Ancient weaponry and the likes.  You’ll hate it.”

Aelin rolled her eyes.  Rowan had written several historical nonfiction novels surrounded with ancient lore, weaponry, and conspiracies.  It all seemed interesting when you thought about it--but Aelin loved the fantasy.  She loved the whimsy.  The strange.  And while Rowan's books were well written and captivating, they never quite captured her.

“Are you finally going to write a book about kilts?  You said you would.”  She couldn’t help but smile at that.  His first book had been a look into early Scottish history, connecting the Old Language and how it shaped fairy tales and other shared stories.  She told him it needed more kilts; he’d told her it wasn’t that kind of book.

Ever since, the same question had been asked.

“Not this time,” Rowan said, returning the smile.

“Shame,” Aelin said, “I would have given you an excellent review.”

The rest of dinner progressed in somewhat amicable silence.  They only exchanged a few words about what the next few weeks would look like for Rowan’s new manuscript.  And Aelin of course ordered a slice of chocolate cheesecake to go.

When the waitress returned with the bill, Rowan swept up the little black book and deposited his credit card all before Aelin could ask for a split bill.

She raised a brow in silent questioning.

“I told ye I’d pay,” he said, accent slipping just a bit deeper than he usually allowed it.  Something flashed in his eyes that kept Aelin from arguing further.  

So she allowed him to pay for the meal, which couldn’t have been cheap, and help her stand and put on her jacket.

It wasn’t until they were outside in the warm summer night that Aelin stepped away from him, eyes narrowed.  She fully expected him to turn back to the grumpy old writer she’d always seen him as, but as she took him in she noted that smoldering look remained in his eyes.  

The sun was close to setting, casting them both in the soft golden light of dusk.  Despite how it was nearing nine, it was still warm.  Though, Aelin felt more than just the lingering effects of the summer heat rolling through her.  

She had no idea what to make of the last hour with Rowan.  No idea what to make of the look that he still held her with.

“You’re going to give me hell tomorrow, aren’t you?” he asked.

Aelin grinned, she couldn’t help it. “Oh, I guarantee it.”

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t missed this subtle game of theirs.  The verbal sparring had been the only thing getting her through the work day on most occasions.  He was aggravating, certainly, but the only one who hadn’t dismissed her, who would take her shit and return it just the same. 

Rowan flagged down a cab for her and opened the door for her, resting a hand on the small of her back.  The action was so unlike anything she’d experienced before.  All the other men she’d dated, or known casually, would have simply left her on the side of the road to flag her own cab or just toss her in the cab and be done with it.

Aelin remembered her dad treating her mom well and how he would always open her doors, make sure she was taken care of, buy flowers and chocolates…but then Rhoe had died.  It had been ten years since the accident, but Aelin would never forget the kind of man he’d been.

“Thank-you,” she said.  She even managed to muster up a sincere smile, even knowing that as soon as the cab pulled away, she’d be lamenting over the embarrassment at being stood up and found out by Rowan Whitethorn.

His expression was unreadable even as he made sure she was tucked into the back of the cab.  Then he leaned in, close enough that she could see the cool green of his eyes.

“Whoever stood you up is an idiot, Galathynius.”  He pulled back before she could respond and shut the door firmly before patting the top of the cab.

The cabbie shot off into the street before Aelin could even register Rowan’s words.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.