CHAPTER 165: A PLEASANT SURPRISE

Aelin

The light in my room had dimmed with the passing hours, but I hadn’t bothered to rise and turn on the magic lamps.

I lay curled on the edge of the bed, my cloak still tangled around me, boots half-undone. I hadn’t moved since I’d gotten back. The silence here wasn’t comforting—it just felt heavy, like the weight of my failure had followed me and settled across my chest, pressing until it was hard to breathe.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face.

That confused, broken stare.

The way she walked toward me like she believed—for one flickering moment—that something might change. That I might save her.

And I couldn’t.

I couldn’t save any of them. My magic was useless here.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence, but I didn’t answer. I couldn’t bring myself to.

A moment later, the door creaked open.

I knew it was him before I heard the steps—slow, measured, heavy with that familiar presence that could both comfort and command. Draegon didn’t speak right away. I felt him pause near the doorway, eyes sweeping the darkened room.

Then he came to me.

His shadow crossed the bed, and I felt the mattress dip as he sat beside me. His hand found my shoulder—warm and steady—and gently coaxed me to roll toward him.

"Aelin," he said, voice low. "What happened?"

I sat up slowly, everything in me aching. I didn’t bother brushing the loose hair from my face.

"I tried," I whispered, eyes fixed on the floor. "I took one of them out of the cell. I brought her into the light. I used everything I had—every spell I’ve studied, every drop of magic in me. And nothing worked."

I swallowed the burn rising in my throat. "She looked at me like she knew I was trying. Like part of her was still in there. And it broke me."

My voice cracked. "I wasn’t strong enough."

There was a silence after that. But not empty. Just full of everything I couldn’t say.

Draegon reached out and took my hand, his fingers wrapping gently around mine. His grip was firm—reassuring.

"You were strong," he said. "You are."

I looked up at him, and the firelight from the hall caught the sharp lines of his face. There was no pity in his expression—just certainty. A quiet, unshakable strength.

"But what’s the point if I can’t even help them?" My chest hurt, "They all look so pitiful and lost."

"What happened to them is already done," he said softly. "We can’t change the past. The black milk took them before we ever had the chance to stop it."

"But—"

"No," he said, gently, but firmly. "You tried to undo something that was already beyond saving. That doesn’t make you weak. It means you care. It means you haven’t let this world harden you."

I stared at him, needing something—anything—to hold on to. Something solid. Something real.

He gave it to me.

"And that’s one of the things about you, your gentle nature, that I adore." He said, making me feel lighter

His arms came around me, drawing me against his chest. I let my forehead rest there, breathing in the scent of him—smoke and steel and something grounding.

"We can’t save them," he murmured. "But we can stop more from ending up like them. That’s where your strength is. The future. Not the past."

I didn’t realize I was reaching for him until I was already doing it.

My arms slid around Draegon’s waist, and I pressed myself against him, burying my face into the warmth of his chest. There was just soft fabric between us now—and I could feel the steady beats of his hearts beneath it.

Grounding. Constant. Alive.

For a breath, he didn’t move. Just let me hold on. And then his arms wrapped around me—strong, careful, and all-encompassing.

He pulled me in without hesitation, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other wrapping firmly around my back. His touch didn’t ask questions or try to fix what I couldn’t explain. It simply was—a shield from everything beyond this moment.

And I sank into it.

Into him.

***

The hours passed quietly.

There were no more words spoken between us that night—none were needed. Draegon remained by my side as the weight of the day settled over my bones like a second skin. His presence, unshifting and steady, became the warmth I needed.

At some point, I must have drifted off in his arms. The sorrow, the exhaustion, the ache in my chest—none of it could withstand the comfort of being held. Of being seen. He stayed with me, pulling the covers over both of us without a sound. No heat passed between us that night beyond the kind that soothed and steadied, the kind that said: I’m here. I won’t leave you in this darkness alone.

I remembered curling toward him, my hand resting over his chest, where his heartbeats were a steady drum. I remembered breathing easier.

And then, came morning.

Soft, golden light seeped through the curtains, warming the sheets and casting blurred shadows across the floor. I blinked slowly, my eyes adjusting. The bed beside me was already empty, the spot where Draegon had laid now cold.

I sat up. The ache in my chest hadn’t entirely gone, but it was quieter now. Softer.

Footsteps drew my attention, and I looked up to see Draegon standing near the door, fully dressed—his cloak already fastened.

He glanced at me, his eyes briefly scanning my face the way he always did, like he was reading something I couldn’t see.

"I have to go," he said, voice low. "They finished the cage last night. I need to see it before they move the lost causes in."

I nodded, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Alright."

He turned to go. Reached for the door.

But then—he paused.

Instead of opening it, he stepped back, crossed the room, and knelt in front of the low dresser. I tilted my head, confused, as he slid open the drawer with the kind of care that made my heart skip.

He pulled out a small wooden box, the smooth surface polished to a pale sheen.

I watched as he crossed the room again—not with the weight of a king, but the quiet certainty of a man with purpose. He sat down beside me on the bed, not saying anything at first, and placed the box gently in my hands.

"What’s this?" I asked confused as I looked at it and then at Dragon

"A gift," He said softly, "Open it." My eyes stayed on him for a second, then I looked down at the box.

A gift?

My fingers hesitated before lifting the lid.

Inside, nestled on a bed of midnight-blue velvet, was the most beautiful hair ornament I had ever seen.

It was shaped like a wing, curved gently as if caught mid-flight. Every line of it had been etched with exquisite precision—each feather carved so delicately it looked as though it might flutter in the wind. Pale sapphires were set into the spine, their soft blue shimmer catching the sunlight and throwing tiny flecks of color onto my blanket. The silver had been finished in a matte frost, glowing faintly like moonlight trapped in metal.

It was stunning and I could tell it was made of mithril. The most expensive metal on the planet.

My breath caught.

"It reminded me of you," Draegon said, his voice quieter now. "The Sapphires match the color of your eyes."

I traced my fingers over the smooth curve of the wing, then looked up at him, my eyes stinging slightly. "Draegon... it’s beautiful."

"I’m glad you like it." He kissed my forehead, adding more glee to my already joyous heart, "I have to leave now." He stood up

"Thank you," I let out a soft voice and he softly smiled at me without stopping.

And then he was gone.

The door clicked softly shut behind him.

I sat there for a moment longer, still holding the wingpin in my lap. Letting my fingers pass over the curve of it again. Letting that quiet kiss settle deep into my bones, where no grief could touch it.

Moments later, there was a gentle knock—lighter, quicker.

Uriel stepped into the room, already smiling as she curtsied. Her soft braid bobbed with the motion, and she was carrying a tray of warm water and a box of morning essentials.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," she said, walking toward the dressing table, "I’m glad to see you in better shape than yesterday."

I smiled faintly and held up the wingpin between two fingers, the silver catching the light as I turned it toward her.

"I want this in my hair today."

Uriel paused, blinking once as she looked at it. Then her eyes lit up.

"Oh... that’s gorgeous, Your Highness." She smiled and gave me a short bow, "I’ll do my best"

***

I looked at myself in the full length mirror when I was ready. Mostly my back was turned to the mirror so I could see the Pin that was holding my styled hair in the back

And I couldn’t stop smiling

I just felt so giddy looking at the pin.

It was a gift from my husband after all

Hehe

A gift, from my husband.

There was a knock on the door, "Come in," I answered and Ariston entered the room with a bow

"Princess," He can’t seem to get rid of the habit of calling me that, but honestly, I like it, "You have a visitor." He said and I paused

"What?" I looked at him confused, "Who?" I was not expecting anyone.