Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass #5)(63)

Dorian didn’t quite know what had happened this past spring with Rowan’s cadre, but … they obviously hadn’t parted on good terms. At least on Rowan’s end.

Gavriel rose to drag over two chairs—closest to the exit, Dorian noticed. Perhaps Gavriel was the one who kept the peace among the cadre.

Rowan didn’t make a move for them. It was so easy to forget that the prince had centuries of handling foreign courts—had gone to war and back again. With these males.

Rowan didn’t bother with diplomacy, however, as he said, “Tell me whatever the hell this news is.”

Fenrys and Gavriel exchanged a look. The former just rolled his eyes and gestured with his spoon for Gavriel to speak.

“Maeve’s armada sails for this continent.”

Dorian was glad he didn’t have anything in his stomach.

Rowan’s words were guttural as he asked, “Is that bitch allying with Morath?” He cut what Dorian considered to be the definition of an icy stare at Rolfe. “Are you allying with her?”

“No,” Gavriel said evenly.

Rolfe, to his credit, just shrugged. “I told you, I want no part in this war.”

“Maeve isn’t the sort to share power,” Gavriel cut in calmly. “But before we left, she was readying her armada to leave—for Eyllwe.”

Dorian whooshed out a breath. “Why Eyllwe? Is it possible she could be sending aid?”

From the look on Rowan’s face, Dorian could tell the prince was already cataloging and marking, analyzing what he knew of his former queen, of Eyllwe, and how it tied to everything else.

Dorian tried to control his thundering heart, knowing they could likely hear its shift in rhythm.

Fenrys set down his spoon. “I doubt she’s sending aid to anyone at all—at least not where this continent is concerned. And again, she didn’t tell us her specific reasons.”

“She always tells us,” Rowan countered. “She’s never contained information like that.”

Fenrys’s dark eyes flickered. “That was before you humiliated her by leaving her for Aelin of the Wildfire. And before Lorcan abandoned her as well. She trusts none of us now.”

Eyllwe … Maeve had to know how dear the kingdom was to Aelin. But to launch an armada … There had to be something there, something worth her while. Dorian ran through every lesson he’d been taught, every book he’d read on the kingdom. But nothing sparked.

Rowan said, “Maeve cannot believe she can conquer Eyllwe—at least not for any extended period of time, not without drawing all her armies here, and leaving her realm undefended.”

But perhaps it’d spread Erawan thin, even if the cost of Maeve’s invasion would be steep…

“Again,” Fenrys drawled, “we don’t know details. We only told him”—a jerk of the chin toward where Rolfe still leaned against the banister with crossed arms—“as a courtesy warning—among other things.”

Dorian noted that Rowan didn’t ask if they’d have extended the courtesy to them had they not been here. Or what, exactly, those other things were. The prince said to Rolfe, “I need to dispatch messages. Immediately.”

Rolfe studied his gloved hands. “Why bother? Won’t the recipient arrive soon enough?”

“What?” Dorian braced himself at the simmering temper in Rowan’s tone.

Rolfe smiled. “Rumor has it Aelin Galathynius destroyed General Narrok and his lieutenants over in Wendlyn. And that she accomplished this with a Fae Prince at her side. Impressive.”

Rowan’s canines flashed. “And your point is, Captain?”

“I just wish to know whether Her Majesty, Queen of Fire, expects a grand parade when she arrives.”

Dorian doubted Rolfe would very much like her other title—Adarlan’s Assassin.

Rowan’s snarl was soft. “Again, she’s not coming here.”

“Oh? You mean to tell me that her lover goes to rescue the King of Adarlan, and instead of taking him north, he brings him here—and it doesn’t somehow mean I’m to soon play host to her?”

At the mention of lover, Rowan gave Fenrys a lethal stare. The beautiful male—really, there was no way to describe him other than that—just shrugged.

But Rowan said to Rolfe, “She asked me to bring King Dorian to persuade you to join our cause. But as you have no interest in any agenda but your own, it seems our trip was wasted. So we have no further use for you at this table, especially if you’re incapable of dispatching messengers.” Rowan flicked his eyes toward the stairs behind Rolfe. “You’re dismissed.”

Fenrys choked on a dark laugh, but Gavriel straightened as Rolfe hissed, “I don’t care who you are and what power you wield. You don’t give me orders in my territory.”

“You’d better get used to taking them,” Rowan said, his voice calm in that way that made Dorian’s every instinct prepare to run. “For if Morath wins this war, they will not be content to let you flounce about these islands, pretending to be king. They will lock you out of every port and river, deny you trade with cities that you have come to depend upon. Who shall your buyers be when there are none left to purchase your goods? I doubt Maeve will bother—or remember you.”

Rolfe snapped, “If these islands are sacked, we will sail to others—and others. The seas are my haven—upon the waves, we will always be free.”