Heir of Fire Read Online Free PDF

children. When Dorian and his father had visited Terrasen in the days before the royal family was slaughtered. When Dorian had met Aelin—­met Celaena.
    It was good that Celaena ­wasn’t ­here to see what Aedion had become. Not just because of the ring. To turn on your own people—
    Aedion slid onto the bench across from them, grinning. A predator assessing prey. “You two ­were sitting at this same table the last time I saw you. Good to know some things don’t change.”
    Gods, that face. It was Celaena’s face—­the other side of the coin. Th e same arrogance, the same unchecked anger. But where Celaena crackled with it, Aedion seemed to . . . pulse. And there was something nastier, far more bitter in Aedion’s face.
    Dorian rested his forearms on the table and gave a lazy smile. “Hello, Aedion.”
    Aedion ignored him and reached for a roast leg of lamb, his black ring glinting. “I like the new scar, Captain,” he said, jerking his chin toward the slender white line across Chaol’s cheek. Th e scar Celaena had given to him the night Nehemia died and she’d tried to kill him—­now a permanent reminder of everything he’d lost. Aedion went on, “Looks like they didn’t chew you up just yet. And they fi nally gave you a big-­boy sword, too.”
    Dorian said, “I’m glad to see that storm didn’t dim your spirits.”
    â€œWeeks inside with nothing to do but train and bed women? It was a miracle I bothered to come down from the mountains.”
    â€œI didn’t realize you bothered to do anything unless it served your best interests.”
    A low laugh. “ Th ere’s that charming Havilliard spirit.” Aedion dug into his meal, and Chaol was about to demand why he was bothering to sit with them—­other than to torment them, as he’d always liked to do when the king ­wasn’t looking—­when he noticed that Dorian was staring.
    Not at Aedion’s sheer size or armor, but at his face, at his eyes . . .
    â€œShouldn’t you be at some party or other?” Chaol said to Aedion. “I’m surprised you’re lingering when your usual enticements await in the city.”
    â€œIs that your courtly way of asking for an invitation to my gathering tomorrow, Captain? Surprising. You’ve always implied that you ­were above my sort of party.” Th ose turquoise eyes narrowed and he gave Dorian a sly grin. “You, however—­the last party I threw worked out very well for you. Redheaded twins, if I recall correctly.”
    â€œYou’ll be disappointed to learn I’ve moved on from that sort of existence,” Dorian said.
    Aedion dug back into his meal. “More for me, then.”
    Chaol clenched his fi sts under the table. Celaena had not exactly been virtuous in the past ten years, but she’d never killed a natural-­born citizen of Terrasen. Had refused to, actually. And Aedion had always been a gods-­damned bastard, but now . . . Did he know what he wore on his fi nger? Did he know that despite his arrogance, his de fi ance and insolence, the king could make him bend to his will whenever he pleased? He ­couldn’t warn Aedion, not without potentially getting himself and everyone he cared about killed should Aedion truly have allegiance to the king.
    â€œHow are things in Terrasen?” Chaol asked, because Dorian was studying Aedion again.
    â€œWhat would you like me to tell you? Th at we are well-­fed a ft er a brutal winter? Th at we did not lose many to sickness?” Aedion snorted. “I suppose hunting rebels is always fun, if you’ve a taste for it. Hopefully His Majesty has summoned the Bane to the South to fi nally give them some real action.” As Aedion reached for the water, Chaol glimpsed the hilt of his sword. Dull metal fl ecked with dings and scratches, its pommel nothing more than a bit of