Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass #5)(133)

46


It was still instinct to go for a knife before Aelin went for her magic.

And as Fenrys leaped for Manon with a snarl, it was Rowan’s power that sent him slamming through the room.

Before the male had finished sliding across the floor, Aelin had a wall of flame up between them. “What the hell,” she spat.

On his knees, Fenrys clawed at his throat—at the air Rowan was choking off.

The cabin was too small for them all to fit without getting too close. Ice danced at Dorian’s fingertips as he slid beside Manon, still chained by the bed.

“What did you mean, that’s not Fenrys?” Aelin said to the witch without taking her eyes off him. Rowan let out a grunt behind her.

And Aelin watched with a mix of horror and fascination as Fenrys’s chest expanded in a mighty breath. As he got to his feet and surveyed that wall of flame.

As if Rowan’s magic had worn off.

And as Fenrys’s skin seemed to glow and melt away, as a creature as pale as fresh snow emerged from the vanishing illusion, Aelin gave Aedion a subtle look over her shoulder.

Her cousin instantly moved, keys to Manon’s chains appearing from his pocket.

But Manon didn’t move as the thing took form, all the spindly limbs, its wings tucked in tight; the hideous warped face sniffing them—

Manon’s chains clanked free.

Aelin said to the thing beyond her wall of flame, “What are you?”

Manon answered for it. “Erawan’s Bloodhound.”

The thing smiled, revealing rotted black stumps of teeth. “At your service,” it said. She said, Aelin realized as she noted the small, shriveled breasts on its narrow chest. “So your guts stayed in,” it purred to Manon.

“Where is Fenrys?” Aelin demanded.

The Bloodhound’s smile didn’t falter. “On patrol of the ship, on another level, I assume. Unaware, just as you were unaware, that one of your own wasn’t truly with you while I—”

“Ugh, another talker,” Aelin said, flipping her braid over a shoulder. “Let me guess: you killed a sailor, took his place, learned what you needed to about how to get Manon off this ship and our patrols, and … what? You planned to carry her off into the night?” Aelin frowned at the thing’s thin body. “You look like you could barely lift a fork—and haven’t in months.”

The Bloodhound blinked at her—then hissed.

Manon let out a low laugh.

Aelin said, “Honestly? You could have just snuck in here and saved yourself a thousand stupid steps—”

“Shifter,” the thing hissed, hungrily enough that Aelin’s words stumbled.

Its enormous eyes had gone right to Lysandra, snarling softly in the corner in ghost leopard form.

“Shifter,” it hissed again, that longing twisting its features.

And Aelin had a feeling she knew what this thing had begun as. What Erawan had trapped and mutilated in the mountains around Morath.

“As I was saying,” Aelin drawled as best she could, “you really brought this upon yourself—”

“I came for the Blackbeak heir,” the Bloodhound panted. “But look at you all: a trove worth your weight in gold.”

Its eyes went murky, as if it were no longer here, as if it had drifted into another room—

Shit.

Aelin attacked with her flame.

The Bloodhound screamed—

And Aelin’s flame melted away into steam.

Rowan was instantly there, shoving her back, sword out. Her magic—

“You should have given me the witch,” the Bloodhound laughed, and ripped the porthole clean out of the side of the ship. “Now he knows who you travel with, what ship you sail …”

The creature lunged for the hole it had hewn in the side of the ship, spindrift misting in.

A black-tipped arrow slammed into its knee, then another one.

The Bloodhound went down an inch from freedom.

Snarling as he stepped into the room, Fenrys fired another, pinning its shoulder into the wood planks.

Apparently, he didn’t take well to being impersonated. He gave Rowan a seething look that said as much. And that demanded how they all hadn’t noticed the difference.

But the Bloodhound wrenched herself up, black blood spraying the room, filling it with her reek. Aelin had a dagger angled, ready to fly; Manon was about to pounce; Rowan’s hatchet was cocked—

The Bloodhound chucked a strap of black leather into the center of the room.

Manon stopped dead.

“Your Second screamed when Erawan broke her,” the Bloodhound said. “His Dark Majesty sends this to remember her by.”

Aelin didn’t dare take her eyes off the creature. But she could have sworn Manon swayed.

And then the Bloodhound said to the witch, “A gift from a King of the Valg … to the last living Crochan Queen.”





Manon stared and stared at that braided leather band—the one Asterin had worn every day, even when battle did not demand it—and did not care what the Bloodhound had declared to the others. Did not care if she was heir to the Blackbeak Witch-Clan or Queen of the Crochans. Did not care if—

Manon did not finish the thought over the roar that silenced everything in her head.

The roar that came out of her mouth as she launched herself at the Bloodhound.