Chapter Text
Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius has been in Rifthold for a month on request of his Queen. Adarlan was still rebuilding and Aelin sent her husband as a show of respect for Dorian and his budding court. The young king is better company than most courtiers—Rowan understands why he and Aelin are friends—but that fact eased none of the pain from missing his mate. He’s pretty sure he’ll only be at peace again when he is finally reunited with his love—hopefully soon. Together the two royals—with some assistance from Chaol—had greatly improved the state of Adarlan’s affairs, and any day now Rowan expected word to return home.
The wine in Rowan’s glass stirred with the motion of the massive dining hall doors opening. Dorian, Rowan, Chaol, and the surrounding guards all turned towards the movement. It must be something important to warrant interrupting the royals’ mealtime. Rowan silently hoped it was his message to return to Terrasen.
Through the grand doors walked another guard alongside an unremarkable looking man in his fifties. The plainclothes man only walked a few feet into the room while the guard continued until he stood in front of the King.
“Lieutenant Varxis, come for some cake? You’ll have to fight our visitor for it, Rowan loves his sweets.”
The expression gracing the Fae’s face was entirely unamused.
“I’m afraid not Your Majesty. This situation is a little more pressing than cake.”
“Do go on, Lieutenant.”
“About an hour ago the guardsmen at the west gate spotted a mass of fifty or so citizens mulling about looking awfully confused.”
“You’re fussing about some drunkards?” Chaol received a sharp look from his friend for that comment.
“These weren’t drunkards Captain. There were men, women, and children all with their full wits about them.”
“I’m assuming some men went to their aid?”
“Yes they offered their help, but each in the mass says they don’t remember how they got there, haven’t a clue where they are or what they were doing last. Awfully strange a thing to happen, so they called over another squadron of us and that was my men. Whole thing reeked fishy to begin with but then I saw my papa here amongst them.”
“And what did seeing your father clear up, Varxis?”
“It didn’t clear anything up, only made it more mind-scratching. You see, my papa’s been dead the last seven years.”