#aelinweek

I won't always have the words  to pull you back from the dark.

But I will always be here  to sit with you in it  and take your hand or wrap my arms around you  until it passes.

For every day of sunshine  there will be a night of darkness, 

but I want to spend  both of them with you.

—S.K. Williams

Arobynn Hamel, her prick of a boss, slowly shook his head as the crease between his brows deepened. He flipped harshly through the pages of the case folder she had handed him moments ago.

Aelin’s body went rigid, preparing for whatever verbal lashing he was about to spew. Entirely negating the amount of time and effort she poured into this case over the last two weeks, discounting hard work she was actually proud of. 

She would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing the effect his condescension had on her, how truly deep it sometimes cut. She maintained a look of impassivity and waited.

“This is your best work? Really?” Arobynn scoffed derisively and leveled her with a hard stare, contempt rolling off him. Aelin focused on breathing steadily through her nose.

“If this is it, then I need you to do the fucking best of someone better.” His words were small glass shards being hurled at her, slicing and stinging upon contact. She curled her shaking hands into tight fists on her lap, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. 

Today had been shit, the general week a living hell. 

Then again, Aelin couldn’t honestly say many of her weeks spanning the past twelve months have been much different. 

This weekend marked the one-year death anniversary of her parents. One year since the tragic accident that  had left her entirely alone in this world. One year since unwavering guilt and shame had settled and made a home in her chest. 

Spoken out of hurt and anger amidst a heated argument, those final words to her parents only a handful of hours before they were just… gone would haunt her until the dark god came to claim her. 

Aelin could usually endure Arobynn’s volatile mood swings and mistreatment—weather the rage storm and emerge from his office relatively unscathed.

But this particular week…?

The very moment consciousness had greeted her this morning, she knew she should have stayed curled under the blankets and out of reach from the rest of the world.

Aelin expelled a long breath. It did nothing to relieve the heaviness twisting in her gut and weighing in her bones. It was a marvel how one could feel so heavy yet utterly empty at the same time.

She tipped her drained glass towards the nearby bartender. “Another, please.”

A moment later, a new glass was slid in front of her and her eyes fell to the sloshing liquid. She must look as pathetically dejected as she presently felt, considering the very generous pour. 

A chill of awareness pricked across her nape and skittered down the smooth curve of her spine as a presence sidled up next to her. Quiet flutters stirred low in her belly, and Aelin cursed her traitorous body’s response to his proximity.

Because of course it was him—she knew it was him without needing to look. It was as if she had a preternatural sense specially tuned to him. And she’d been more than aware of his presence across the room—felt him all evening. Those piercing green eyes boring into the back of her. 

Aelin refused to look at him. “Can I help you, Whitethorn?”

“You know,” he drawled, leaning his forearms onto the bar top next to her. “Agreeing to drinks after work typically entails actually sitting within the remote vicinity of those who extended the invitation.”

Aelin lifted the glass of dark amber liquid to her lips and took a long, pointed sip before speaking cooly, “I’m here for the drinks, not the company.”

Rowan slid into the vacant stool next to her. 

Not easily deterred, then.

A few silent minutes passed between them. Rowan patiently waited, watching her still. Aelin inhaled a long breath as frustration started to build. Couldn’t he just leave her alone to sulk in solitude? 

“What do you want, Whitethorn?” 

She couldn’t fully tamper the edge in her voice. All the better though. Maybe he’d take the hint and finally rejoin his rightful group of coworker-turned-friends.

The heat of Rowan’s gaze flitted across the side of her face. She took another drink. 

“Are you okay?” His soft sincerity caused her chest to constrict.

“Christ, Aelin—what do I even pay you for?” Arobynn flung the heavy file folder back across the desk at her. “Being a pretty face around the firm? You barely manage that lately.”

Her eyes closed against the resurfacing memory. The slight burn of unbidden tears pricked in her nose. Aelin sniffed then cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m fine.” 

Aelin met his stare in challenge, to show just how fine she was. But her voice had sounded strained, even to her own ears. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Rowan either, if the gentle look of disbelief and concern were any indication.

Her chest felt like it was going to cave in. She couldn’t stand him looking at her like that. She didn’t need his kindness or concern. 

Didn’t deserve it.

Yet Rowan is always so fucking nice to her. Checking in during the day and inviting her to outings with their coworkers. Most recently, he’s started bringing his lunch over to eat at her desk once he realized she was never going to take him up on the invitation to join him and the others in the break room. 

Time and time again, he has tried to scale the icy fortress she’s spent years carefully constructing around herself. Yet his efforts seemingly remained undeterred, even with her doubled efforts to keep all others out throughout this past year of hell. 

Aelin threw back the last of her drink. She needed to get away from him before he made a crack in her barrier. Only the gods know he’s come close before. And something deep, deep down screamed at her to let him do it.

But once he did crack her open, only to find cold, ugly darkness seeping out—what then? He’d inevitably discard her like everyone else. Because why would he want that? Why would anyone? 

She couldn’t bare it. Couldn’t risk the hope of maybe having him just to lose him and have her chest hallowed out once more. 

Aelin slid from her seat and threw a few bills onto the bar top.

“Hey, hey—Aelin.” Rowan reached for her arm.

She whipped towards him with a withering glare that could usually send anyone running. Rowan didn’t falter.

“Talk to me,” he implored. 

“Why do you even care?” She demanded. 

Still seated, Rowan tugged her into the space between his legs. A quiet sadness swirled with the flecks of deep green in his eyes. 

“I just… do.” 

Aelin’s heart felt crumpled and emotionally stripped. 

Home. She just wanted to go home and curl up in her bed. Wanted to be done with this day—this dreaded weekend. 

“You shouldn’t.” 

Her lips pressed into a firm line to keep from wobbling.  Her gaze lingered in the direction of their coworkers huddled together in a circular booth. Laughing and joking and clinking glasses. Rowan should be over there with them, not here attending to her mess. 

She averted her eyes upwards, blinking a few times to keep impending tears at bay. A calloused hand smoothed down her arm until he wrapped his hand around hers. He squeezed gently.

“What do you need?”

A single tear streaked her cheek. Rowan’s free hand gently wiped it away. He kept quiet, but she didn’t even know what to say. What did she need?

So many things, all seemingly out of reach. 

So often the silence was deafening and the loneliness gutting within the dark place she’s locked herself, behind the icy fortress wall. Numbed for so long, she’s forgotten what it feels like to live. 

The silence stretched between them before she finally rasped, “To feel something.”

Rowan traced a thumb along her cheek. “Then let me help you feel.”

His words hung between them, their implication glaring and heavy. Every nerve in her body roared for his touch, his kindness, his comfort. Him. 

Aelin’s denied herself of all of it for so long, from anyone. Let alone from this beautiful man who refuses to let her fade to the black nothingness constantly on the brink of consuming her whole. This man who has unknowingly taken hold of her beaten down heart, bit by bit. 

Just this once. 

Just this once she could allow herself to give in, to  want him. Just for tonight. 

Her voice barely a whisper above the din of the bar, “Yes.” 

His small answering smile so soft, so warm, it made her chest ache. 

~

Aelin toed off her heels before stepping past the entry way. Her eyes flitted around the apartment, tidy and warm. Her focus snagged momentarily on a bookshelf nestled against the far wall. The spines a variety of colors, sizes, and conditions of wear. She was inclined to step closer and nose through what kinds of books filled his shelves, to gain a small insight into his mind—

Rowan moving deeper into the living room caught her eye though, and she turned to watch him ease onto a plush sofa. He offered her one of his rare soft smiles, then reached a hand out. 

“C’mere.”

Aelin approached him slowly until she stood between his parted legs. He looked so good like that, splayed out lazily. Lap and warm smile more than inviting. Heat emanated from his large hands as he gently gripped her hips. She didn’t resist, allowing him to settle her astride his muscled thighs. 

Her form-fitted work skirt rucked up to her hips so her legs could accommodate his width. Deep green eyes devoured the newly exposed skin, tracing calloused hands up the soft flesh before hooking behind her to pull her impossibly closer. 

Aelin’s stomach curled and skin pricked with the intimacy of their position. Never imagined they would ever be this close—never allowed herself to.

Rowan ran a hand up her back and she arched gently into the touch, chest pressing into his. It’d been so long since she was last touched like this. Her body craved it. 

So did her heart.

She closed her eyes against that thought. 

“This is just sex.” 

Rowan hummed noncommittally. He brushed loose tendrils from her face and smoothed them behind her ear. Her chest tightened as she settled her gaze back on him. 

“I’m serious, Rowan,” she hedged. 

He nodded softly, running a thumb along her jawline, over her bottom lip. “Is that truly what you want?” his voice hushed.

Was it? No. At least she didn’t think so. But…

“It has to be,” she whispered, resolute. 

His eyes pierced through her, burned to her very soul. As if he could unearth all of her darkest thoughts and secrets and turn them to ash.

“Why?”

Because I am nothing. Worthless. And you should be running—away from this, away from me. 

She wanted to push him away, protect him from herself. Instead her fingers flexed in the soft silvery hair at his nape. The tightness in her chest splintered out as unwanted emotions and thoughts bubbled to the surface, a familiar numbing ache seeping into the hollow parts.

A slow, sad shake of her head. “I have nothing to give.”

Something crumpled behind those pretty green eyes. Then Rowan pulled her face closer, grazing his lips over hers. “I don’t want anything.” The featherlight touch of his lips as he spoke sent a chill up her spine. “Just you, Aelin.”

His words… the way her name sounded on his tongue—it fractured something deep within. And she was helpless to the sob that racked up through her body. No one has ever wanted her before, not for just her.

“Shhh,” Rowan soothed. “I’ve got you.” He gently wiped the salty streaks from her flushed cheeks. Ran soothing fingers through her long golden waves. Held her so close to stave off any fears that he’d let her go. “I’ve got you,” he repeated.

Aelin nuzzled into the crook of his neck, too far past the ability to feel embarrassed over her tears seeping into his shirt collar and skin. Rowan didn’t seem to care anyways. So she sunk into him—reveled in the strength and warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around her. Tentatively allowed herself to be comforted by his unyielding presence. 

It wasn’t until her breathing had steadied and the dampness on her cheeks nearly dried that she pulled back to find eyes open and searching, a gentle caress across her face. 

She stared back, in disbelief of this man and his kindness and his heart. Always so stoic and broody to the outside world… but for whatever reason she’d always had a special pass to the softer, gentler parts of him. Gods knew she’d done nothing to earn that trust of vulnerability.

But she was… thankful, anyways. And she wanted him to know. She could at least give him this. 

Aelin swallowed then placed a gentle hand along his jaw. “Rowan…” she rasped, voice not sounding like her own, hoarse with spent emotion. 

The rest of her gratitudes died on her tongue. She wasn’t any good at these kinds of things. Aelin resolved to showing him then.

His eyes didn’t leave hers as she shifted on his lap, tilting his head back so she could lean over him. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, then Aelin pressed her lips to his. Rowan didn’t hesitate in returning the kiss, slow and deep.

Her mother used to always say Aelin was born with wildfire in her heart. Burning bright and wild, yielding to nothing and no one. Always one to unapologetically blaze her own trail. And oh, how far Aelin has fallen from that little girl once with wildfire. Her heart has been cold and shrouded in darkness for so long, she didn’t remember what it felt like to burn.

Until now. As Rowan breathed flame back into her and it crackled through her blood with every touch and brush of lips. This single kiss fractured her very foundation and reforged her anew. 

A prolonged moan fell from her lips as Rowan’s hands ran down her body then back up her bare thighs, smoothing around to knead and cup her ass. Using the leverage, he ground her thinly cladded core against his straining arousal and devoured the little gasps and whimpers coaxed from her. 

Aelin broke away and pressed open mouthed kisses along his strong jawline as deft fingers worked the front buttons of his dress shirt, only pausing for him to yank hers overhead. The second it was off, her mouth and hands were back on him—touching, licking, tasting. 

Her bra was next to go and Rowan soaked in the sight with pupils blown wide. He almost looked crazed with want, and hell—maybe he was. She surely was. 

The corner of her mouth tugged into a small smirk before tangling her fingers into his hair and guiding him back to her in a messy kiss. Rowan licked into her mouth and greedily swallowed her moan when his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her underwear. And he was so good.

All coherent thoughts fell away. Leaving her with just the feel of him beneath her—of them, moving together.

“Rowan,” she panted, hips rolling against his very skilled fingers. 

Small hands flitted over broad shoulders, across the expanse of firm chest, over thick biceps, into silvery tendrils—unable to decide where to land. Entirely overwhelmed with an incessant need for him—for more. 

Finally her hands landed on his belt buckle, then the button and zipper of his slacks. Shimmying them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, jutting proud and  head glistening with his desire. The urge to wrap her mouth around him pulsed through her. But first—

Aelin rose on her knees to align herself above him. Rowan’s eyes widened slightly and gripped her hips to keep her from sinking down.

“Aelin… like this?”

His eyes darted over their still half-clothed bodies then back up to her face as if he were asking, Here? She was sure he had a perfectly fine bed somewhere but Aelin swore she was going to die from scorching need if she didn’t have him in the next five seconds.

She didn’t need romantic gestures and soft mattresses. Just to be filled with him, consumed by him.

Aelin nodded emphatically. “Please.” Desperation to feel something—to connect—threatened to swallow her whole.

A look passed through the green depths of his eyes and she knew he understood. Rowan pressed a kiss to her sternum. “Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Tell me how you need it.”

“Hard.”

Mischief glinted in his eyes as he smirked up at her and her stomach flipped. “As you wish.”

Rowan’s mouth crashed against hers in a bruising kiss—demanding, claiming. His thumb hooked and pulled aside the dainty lace that still covered her core, and guided her down onto his cock. 

A throaty whimper fell from her. The way he stretched her open fell just on the side of painful, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Fuuuck, Aelin,” he groaned. “So fucking tight.”

Before she could fully adjust to his size, Rowan snapped his hips and set into a punishing pace. And she was glad for it—eager to be ruined by him.

Aelin’s head fell back with a cry.

All she could do was hold on, nails digging into beautiful bronze tattooed skin, and lose herself to the burn building within her. Nothing else mattered outside this moment, outside of them and the way he made the flames flicker and dance in her soul.

Rowan wound long gold tresses around a hand and tugged to draw her head back, keeping the hold on her hair taught. Aelin moaned and arched just as he nipped at the exposed skin before licking up the length of her throat.

“Rowan, please,” she begged. Desperate for a release that dangled just out of reach.

Rowan latched on to her pulse point and pressed a thumb to her clit, the added sensations just what she needed to be sent hurtling over the edge with his name singed on her lips.

His breaths turned jagged while he shook with restraint. “Again,” he ground out. Molten pleasure sparked through her core in response to the command. 

Aelin rolled her hips into his, milking the drag of his swollen cock along her oversensitive inner walls. All the while his ministrations didn’t falter, thumb still pressing tight circles against her clit. The the pleasure sharp and bordering too much.

Her nails dug deeper into his heated skin, she wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood and— 

O-oH, gods!

Rowan grunted as her body began contracting around him again, and a prolonged moan fell from her lips as she drowned once more in a blanketed wave of pleasure. He thrusted one final time before spilling deep into her and joining her in bliss.

Golden waves tumbled down her back as Rowan finally released his hold. He sagged against the sofa cushions, bringing Aelin with him, both of them panting and boneless.

Minutes ticked past, maybe hours. It didn’t really matter as she’d lost all concept of time. Only aware of the warm drag of his fingers up and down her back; of  the soft brush of his lips against her temple. 

Rowan shifted beneath her, slipping out, then effortlessly hauled them both up from the sofa. Aelin’s legs wrapped around him as he carried her deeper into the apartment. 

A mattress gave way at her back as Rowan gently lowered her to the bed. He looked her over for a moment with shining eyes and a soft smile before wordlessly removing her remaining garments, leaving her fully bare before him. 

With eyes glued to her lithe body sprawled out across his bed, Rowan groaned in appreciation while discarding the rest of his own clothes. 

Aelin sucked in a breath. 

He was glorious standing there in the nude—all corded muscle, bronze skin, and tattoos. 

Heat reignited in her core. 

Rowan eased onto the bed and crawled slowly up her body, kissing and nipping along the way. Aelin stretched beneath him and arched into his touch. His hand ran up along her ribcage, thumb brushing the  underside of her breast.

“Gods, Aelin, you’re beautiful.” His reverence washed over her with gentle warmth.

She smiled lazily. “I know.”

Rowan snorted, a broad grin stretching across his handsome face. “There you are,” he murmured. 

Yes, there she was. With the whisper of a flame finally flickering back to life in her heart. 

The smile remained until Rowan leaned down to capture her awaiting lips once more. 

--

Satisfied with her appearance Aelin gave her reflection a smile and stood, smoothing out the swathes of fabric of the dress she had chosen for tonight. With light layers of reds and oranges, and gold thread woven throughout, she looked like a living flame herself. There were thin drapes of fabric that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. The neckline might have been more modest than she would have liked, but it was still elegant and was shown off by the hairstyle that kept all her hair off her neck to combat the early summer heat. At that moment Rowan stepped back into the bedroom, he had been doing gods knew what while she had readied herself. He was dressed in his finest too, his colours less ostentatious though, favouring greys and dark greens like he always did. It didn’t make him any less handsome. 

Rowan had been fiddling with his cuff as he walked into the room, that button or loose thread keeping his attention while Aelin waited for him to notice her. She knew he would appreciate the effort she had gone into her presentation tonight, it was all she could think about while Lysandra had fluttered around her. Once the excitement and joy over the pregnancy had somewhat faded, and the strain on her body had set in, Aelin had struggled to feel like herself. It had been weeks of feeling less than of who she desired to be and like a stranger in her own body. But in this moment she was an image of herself she could at least somewhat recognise. The part of her that delighted in teasing him had certainly reawakened and was waiting for the opportunity to see his reaction. Her impatience almost had her clearing her throat to get him to shift his attention.

“Fireheart, I—”

Aelin had rendered him speechless, after ten years she could still steal the air from his lungs without the need of the wind magic he favoured. Rowan’s assessing eyes ran over her, from head to toe, and Aelin watched as they softened. She had indeed caught his attention, noting how his gaze lingered on her middle.

“You and I both know that there is next to nothing there,” Aelin said, her hands running over her stomach.

She wasn’t showing, not yet. Besides a tightness on her stomach that Rowan had been the one to point out, Aelin didn’t visibly look pregnant. The dress however had been cut to accentuate what might be there. With the waistline set just under her bust and a split of darker fabric over the lighter with a small gathering in the centre, it made it look like there was more of swell than there was.  

“Aelin,” her name was said with a reverence. “You look beautiful.”

The smile that appeared on her face only ever came to her when she was with Rowan. There was an uncharacteristic shyness to it, something only he managed to bring out in her. 

“You would say that, our child had bewitched you,” Aelin said, a hand fiddling the dress at her shoulder. 

Rowan stalked towards her, not denying her words. When he reached her, he ran his hands all the way up her bare arms to cup her face. It was hard to miss the look of pure adoration he was giving her. 

“Can I kiss you, or do I have to wait until after your big moment?”

As much as she wanted it, Aelin knew that a kiss from her husband would ruin all Lysandra’s hard work. This kiss would have to be cautious—an attribute neither of them were known for. 

“You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid,” Aelin conceded. 

“I can wait,” Rowan assured her. He stepped back, but his touch lingered, now resting on her stomach. “I do love this dress.”

Aelin rested her hand over his, pushing it flatter against her. “I thought you might.”

There was sharp and precise knocking on their bedroom door, an announcement and a warning. It was a brave person who approached the royal bedroom without invitation. There were only a few daring enough to do so.

“It’s time,” Aedion called, and then he stepped through the door. “Oh good, you’re still dressed.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, picking up her skirts. “Your lady wife would be most upset if I ruined all her hard work.”

“She immediately had to wrangle Rue into a tense compliance, so you would be right,” Aedion explained, holding the door like he was ushering them out. Like if he did not they would stay in that room and find something else to do. It wouldn’t be the first time they would need a chaperone to keep them on task.

But not tonight, Aelin was more than committed to performing her queenly duty and didn’t need encouragement. She took Rowan’s hand and led the way through the castle. 

The Beltane festivities would take place in the courtyard at the base of the castle steps. The gates would be open and the people of the city could celebrate around the fires and alters that had been prepared. Aelin would address them and commence the festivities, using her magic to do so. They would also officially announce the pregnancy to her people, her country—to the world. The prospect was both exciting and mildly terrifying. Rumours had spread, of course, but without an official declaration they had been able to enjoy these early months or relative privacy. Aelin was not ignorant of possibilities the revelation of an heir might bring. Maeve’s words still often rang in her ears. 

More than that, the death of her parents still left scars. It had shown Aelin in the cruellest way that in their world no one was untouchable. And announcing their vulnerabilities might invite unwanted attention from the wrong people. What gave her comfort was not only her own powers, but the force and dedication of her inner court who would give anything to protect what was dear to them, as this child would be. Aelin shook her head to clear such thoughts, a night of celebration was no such time to dwell on something like this. 

“Aelin,” Rowan said softly, no doubt noticing the shift in her demeanour due to her dark thoughts. “Are you all right?” 

“Yes, Buzzard. I’m fine,” Aelin assured him, holding onto his arm to bring them closer together. “My mind just ran away from me, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Because we can—”

Aelin’s laughter cut him off. “You would like nothing more that to hole ourselves up in our bedroom and ignore the world outside

Rowan gave her the barest hint of a smile. “You say that like it’s a bad idea.” 

“Not bad, just mistimed,” Aelin said. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

Aelin didn’t allow herself to see his reaction, because whether it was a smirk or a soft growl, it might just convince her to go back upstairs and follow through with his idea. And they were nearly at the front gates. Seeing her court gathered there brought a smile to Aelin’s face. Lysandra and Aedion were indeed trying to contain the whirlwind that was their son, and the Lochan family were in their own little huddle. Lorcan held their son, Korbin’s hand weaving through his father’s hair. Fenrys was there as well conversing with Evangeline, making her smile. This was Aelin’s family—they had been through all the hells imaginable and made it through to meet each other on the other side. By next Beltane there would be another member to join in the celebrations. 

That thought did have her turning to her mate as scenes of their tiny child playing around the firelight filled her mind. Rowan would hold their child safe in his arms, their faces aglow as he smiled at her. It was so clear, so attainable, it made Aelin giddy. Her hand rested on her stomach and the promise that lay there.

“Are we ready?” Aelin announced to the group.

“Are you?” Elide asked. “We only have to stand there and look pretty.”

“I was under the impression that our appealing features were the only reason you accepted us into this court, your Majesty,” Fenrys quipped. “Lorcan the exception of course.”

“We keep him around for his sense of humour, don’t we?” Aelin taunted. That was met it’s a single scowl and plenty of laughter. 

Aelin went to step through the doors, her court behind her, her mate by her side. It took one look at Rowan for him to know what she needed just a little and he lent down and pressed a careful kiss to her cheek. That was all the bolstering she needed as she pushed on the heavy wooden doors. 

Outside it was loud, voices of what might have been hundreds of people milling around the courtyard. Aelin would stand above them at the top of the stairs, a small pile of wood beside her to mimic the larger ones in the courtyard. When stepped forward into the view of everyone a cheer went through the crowd and she knew what they saw. The way her hands cradled her stomach accentuated it. 

“Good people of Orynth,” Aelin projected her voice as much as she could, to reach as many people as he could. “Tonight we celebrate Beltane, to bring blessing and luck to our harvests, to start the seasons anew. These fires will purify and bring life to our fair country. I invite you to place your offerings, seek the blessing you wish for in your heart, and I hope like mine, they come to fruition.” For Aelin this time in her life represented a conciliation of the old and the new, a new beginning. A fitting symbol for Beltane, especially how close fertility was associated with these festivities. Aelin glanced down at her stomach and Rowan took his place by her side. When she looked out to her people she was smiling. “And I am delighted to announce a bright light for our future. I am with child, Terrasen will have an heir and I promise to raise them to love, honour and respect according to what our fair country deserves. I hope that you will join me in celebrating this joyous announcement tonight.”

They’d take her fire back to their homes.

Rowan's hand tightened on her waist as the cheering got louder. Aelin’s own hand became wreathed in flame and it took half a thought to light the half a dozen bonfires. Shouts of excitement went up and warmth bloomed in her chest. These people would take her fire back to their homes, to warm their hearths and sustain them. It served as a promise that Aelin would provide for them as long as that was within her power. It felt so natural to turn into Rowan’s embrace and for him to pull her closer. And even though the city of Orynth looked on, he kissed her. The world fell away in that moment as the hopes for their future burned as bright as the flames below. 

~~~~~

They had retreated to an inner, more secluded courtyard for a private celebration. A large fire burned in the centre of it and there was a smaller one for jumping. After lighting both, Aelin had taken time to sit, eat and drink before she joined in the festivities. Rowan made sure she had everything she needed, his fussiness kicking in after she had confessed that she was hungry. She was full now and ready to join in the dancing. Searching for her chosen partner, she found that Rowan had the small boys over by the food table, one hanging from each arm. It was an endearing sight, and she’d let them play. 

Aelin left her seat and had barely made it three steps when Fenrys appeared in front of her, hand extended as he gave her a courtly bow. “Would you like to dance?”

Aelin returned the gesture with a short curtsy. “Indeed I would.”

Taking the fae male’s hand and the invitation, Aelin smiled. Fenrys spun her into the firelight, leading her through the steps of the dance. Almost immediately the dress became a nuisance and Aelin paused to regrettably and carefully singe off the last few inches of it so that the length wouldn’t hinder her movements. She had no desire to cut her evening short by tripping over or twisting her ankle. 

Fenrys was an excellent partner, and she was almost sorry to leave him when the dance changed and Aelin spun on. Aedion was a little less enthusiastic but she wouldn’t hold that against him. He was more warrior than courtier—always had been. So Aelin circled around the fire, her magic unwittingly reaching out to the flames and making them dance as well. It wasn’t until her feet started to hurt and she felt a little breathless that her mate appeared, intercepting her spin before she could meet whichever partner was next. He immediately slowed the tempo of her movements, bringing her in closer to support some of her weight.

“Rowan,” she chastised. 

“Fireheart, you’re going to trip going that fast,” he said softly, even though Aelin could feel the concern pounding through him.

Aelin held in her snort of laughter. “No one was going to let that happen. I even shortened my dress as a preventative measure.”

Rowan actually stepped back to inspect her work, satisfied it was enough he pulled her back into his space. “You’ll tire yourself out.”

“I deserve to. I’ve been cooped up too long,” Aelin bemoaned—still not admitting that the pace he’d set was exactly what she needed. “You fuss too much.”

“I know,” he added with sincere honesty and utterly shameless. 

“Dance with me, please,” Aelin asked.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “I am dancing with you.”

“Really dance with me,” Aelin was nearly pleading. “And then I’ll sit down and rest for a while. I promise.”

“I’m powerless to deny you,” was his answer. 

The fiddles and the drums played a steady beat, guiding them through step by step. This time Aelin kept her partner, Rowan’s hand was on her waist and the other clasped her’s. Memories of their first Beltane together rose and Aelin wondered what might have happened if the burnout had not consumed her. Would Rowan have stayed or flown back to his room? Could she have convinced him to jump the fires with her? Or would he have left her to celebrate on her own? Aelin laughed to herself when she realised that might be the likeliest answer. He would have brooded the night away in the shadows while she spent her night by the warmth of the fire, then returned to her cold room. 

“What is so funny, love?” Rowan asked. 

“Just remembering how grumpy you were when we first met,” Aelin said, teasing her mate. “More than ten years and it still astounds me.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed playfully, any ire lost when his lips twisted upwards. “Was I to blame?”

“I suppose not,” Aelin agreed. 

“What else were you thinking about?” Rowan urged brushing his lips over her temple.

Aelin melted just that little more into him. “Hmm, just the past.”

“And?” He pressed. “Tell me?”

“I was thinking back to our first, and very eventful, Beltane,” Aelin confessed. “And I was wondering what might have happened if the burnout did not happen.”

“Oh, I see.” 

This time it was Aelin who slowed them down. “What would you have done?”

“I would have stayed,” Rowan said. 

Aelin started grinning. “Would you have danced with me?”

With all the utter seriousness only a three hundred year old immortal fae could muster Rowan said, “Absolutely not.”

Aelin’s laughter rang throughout the courtyard as Rowan spun her, the song ending just as she was enveloped in his arms again. They stood there even as another song started and Rowan cupped her face, kissing her sweetly. 

“Is that enough dancing for now?” Rowan asked. 

Aelin caught the underlying meaning of his words. I think it’s time to rest. And this time he may have been right.

“Yes, I think so.” She ignored the small look of triumph on Rowan’s face. 

Rowan led the way to the chairs on the edges of the gathering and then promptly left to get her a drink. In the meantime Ruben and Korbin ran up to her, their faces delighted and covered in soot. 

“And what can I do for you, little lords?” Aelin asked.

“We want to jump the fire!” Ruben said. “Can we? Can you?”

“Of course I can,” Aelin replied, resting a hand on each of their heads. “Are you ready?”

The two boys nodded, thrumming with excitement. Not too far away Aelin willed a fire to appear, small with heatless flames to keep the children safe. Korbin was first, taking a run up that did almost nothing to increase his height over the fire. Ruben wasn’t too far behind, whooping for joy as the flames tickled his feet. Over and over the two boys jumped, Aelin making the embers dance around them. 

Her power thrived, her joy and her magic becoming one in the same. The thing Aelin had once most feared was now celebrated and accepted. What she had fought for and dreamed of had come to be. The babe growing within her was part of that, and her greatest joy of all. 

“Aelin,” the sighing chastisement came from beside her and she knew she would see the long suffering face of her mate. 

She gave him a look of innocence. “Yes, dearest husband.”

“You said you would rest,” he told her.

“This little fire is nothing,” Aelin said with a twist of her hand that had the flame moving the same way. “How could I say no to them?”

Just then the two boys jumped at the same time, hand in hand. Rowan didn’t say anything more as he handed a drink over, his eyes lingering on the children. He was no doubt imagining what she did, a small silver-headed child between them, laughing as they too made the jump for good luck. 

“Just a little while longer, I promise,” Aelin said as she tugged on Rowan’s hand to bring him down into the seat beside her.

“Of course, Fireheart.” Rowan sat, the two of them happy to just observe for a while. 

In the end, it took the children being collected by their parents before Aelin let the flames go. Lady and Lord Lochan retired to their rooms for the evening. Aedion led his family back to the fire for another dance. For a while longer Aelin was content to stay where she was and just watch. The heat of the day was gone and the flames provided a comfortable warmth to her bared skin. Aelin’s hand dragged comfortingly over her stomach. The motion was soothing and was guiding her exhaustion to the surface. But she didn’t want to retire for the night, not just yet.

“One more dance?” Rowan had all but read her thoughts. 

Aelin just nodded, letting Rowan pull her from her seat. The music had slowed now, it was no longer the frenzied melodies that urged quick steps and reckless movements. Rowan spun her in a slow circle, but quick enough that the skirts of her dress fluttered about her feet. Aelin draped her arms around his neck, and his hands found a place low on her hips. 

They did little more than sway to the music, foreheads pressed together. For just a little while longer Aelin wanted to bask in the warmth of the firelight and the perfection that this moment held.

From the rooftop of her building, Aelin could see all of Orynth, the sprawling metropolis glistening with the crystals of the city lights. She leaned against the glass half-wall encircling the perimeter of the rooftop, flirting with danger like she was so fond of doing, feeling the evening breeze stir her loose hair. Her wineglass dangled between her fingers, her hold on its delicate glass stem the only thing keeping it from tumbling hundreds of feet to the ground and crashing into a million fragments. She took a long sip, rolling the rich red liquid around on her tongue to luxuriate in the flavor–a symphony of dark cherry, oak, and just a trace of violet as the wine went down. 

The perfect accompaniment to tonight’s…viewing. 

In her head, she counted down the minutes, then the seconds. Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven…. Her anticipation built by the second, her heart rate unable to control its excitement. Settle down, she warned herself. No use celebrating too early. 

Boom. 

Right on time, an explosion. A cloud of thick black smoke billowed up a few miles away at the far end of the shipping district–the Wilkins lot, if she wasn’t mistaken. Blazing tongues of flame followed right on the heels of the smoke cloud, the fire rapidly catching onto the nearby containers and setting them ablaze. The fire only grew, though contained within its boundaries; it took only a minute or two before the mini inferno had devoured what looked to be the entire Wilkins lot and one or two lots nearby, its flames painting the night in flickers of orange and scarlet. 

Aelin took another pull of her wine and drank in the sight of the raging blaze, a small smirk curling the corner of her lips as she heard the sirens screaming toward the scene of the fire. Not that the fire department would find anything worth saving. 

She’d seen to that. 

She remained at the edge of the rooftop until her wine was gone and the fire in the shipping district had been tamed, reduced to curling plumes of smoke drifting away into the January night. The decadent alcohol left a lingering trace of smoke and embers in her mouth, which only made her smirk grow. She knew she’d picked the right wine. Then she stood up and turned away from the cityscape, satisfied with a job well done. Regarding the empty wineglass in her hand, she tilted her head, thinking for a moment. 

Then she lazily draped her arm over the balcony wall and let her fingers go limp. 

The wineglass plummeted down, down, down through the silent winter night and landed with a crash on the frozen cement sidewalk, splintering into a thousand crystal shards. Curiously, though, glass wasn’t the only thing that rose up as the wineglass crashed into the pavement. No, there was something else, visible only for barely half a second–not even enough time to believe it really happened. 

As Aelin’s wineglass shattered against the sidewalk, a small plume of smoke curled up from the impact point, disappearing a blink after it appeared. Almost as if the wineglass hadn’t just broken, but exploded.

~~~

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