Free Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass) by Sarah J. Maas Page B

spindly hands at the base of a gnarled oak. None of the others so much as blinked in its direction.
    Rowan finished with his weapons, glancing between her and Aedion with a warrior’s frankness. “Where do I meet you once I’ve secured the prince?”
    Aedion said, “Run north. Stay clear of the Ferian Gap—”
    Darrow appeared at the other end of the clearing, barking an order for Murtaugh to come to him.
    “No,” Aelin said. Both warriors turned.
    She stared northward into the roiling rain and lightning.
    She would not set foot in Orynth; she would not see her home.
    Find me allies , Darrow had sneered.
    She didn’t dare glance at what the Little Folk had left in the shadow of that rain-lashed tree mere feet away.
    Aelin said to Aedion, “If Ren is to be trusted, you tell him to get to the Bane, and to be ready to march and press from the North. If we arenot to lead them, then they will have to work around Darrow’s orders as best they can.”
    Aedion’s brows rose. “What are you thinking?”
    Aelin jerked her chin at Rowan. “Get a boat and travel south with Dorian. Land is too risky, but your winds on the seas can get you there in a few days. To Skull’s Bay.”
    “Shit,” Aedion breathed.
    But Aelin pointed with a thumb over a shoulder to Ren and Murtaugh as she said to her cousin, “You told me that they were in communication with Captain Rolfe. Get one of them to write a letter of recommendation for us. Right now.”
    “I thought you knew Rolfe,” Aedion said.
    Aelin gave him a grim smile. “He and I parted on … bad terms, to say the least. But if Rolfe can be turned to our side…”
    Aedion finished for her, “Then we’d have a small fleet that could unite North and South—brave the blockades.”
    And it was a good thing she’d taken all that gold from Arobynn to pay for it. “Skull’s Bay might be the only safe place for us to hide—to contact the other kingdoms.” She didn’t dare tell them that Rolfe might have far more than a fleet of blockade runners to offer them, if she played it right. She said to Rowan, “Wait for us there. We’ll strike out for the coast tonight, and sail to the Dead Islands. We’ll be two weeks behind you.”
    Aedion clasped Rowan on the shoulder in farewell and headed for Ren and Murtaugh. A heartbeat later, the old man was hobbling into the inn, Darrow on his heels, demanding answers.
    As long as Murtaugh wrote that letter to Rolfe, she didn’t care.
    Alone with Rowan, Aelin said, “Darrow expects me to take this order lying down. But if we can rally a host in the South, we can push Erawan right onto the blades of the Bane.”
    “It still might not convince Darrow and the others—”
    “I’ll deal with that later,” she said, spraying water as she shook her head. “For now, I have no plans to lose this war because some old bastard has learned he likes playing king.”
    Rowan’s grin was fierce, wicked. He leaned in, grazing his mouth against hers. “I have no plans to let him keep that throne, either, Aelin.”
    She only breathed, “Come back to me.” The thought of what awaited him down in Rifthold struck her again. Gods—oh, gods. If anything happened to him…
    He brushed a knuckle down her wet cheek, tracing her mouth with his thumb. She put a hand on his muscled chest, right where those two vials of poison were now hidden. For a heartbeat, she debated turning the deadly liquid within into steam.
    But if Rowan was caught, if Dorian was caught … “I can’t—I can’t let you go—”
    “You can,” he said with little room for argument. The voice of her prince-commander. “And you will.” Rowan again traced her mouth. “When you find me again, we will have that night. I don’t care where, or who is around.” He pressed a kiss to her neck and said onto her rain-slick skin, “You are my Fireheart.”
    She grabbed his face in both hands, drawing him down to kiss her.
    Rowan wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him,