Exhausted and miserable, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius trudged up the stairs of her warehouse apartment. She hadn’t dared to linger outside of the large, two-level building that she’d purchased a few years ago. Despite having only just returned from Wendlyn, she’d caused some trouble in the slums already and, even with her losing the guards in the winding streets of Rifthold, didn’t want to push her luck by staying outside. Even if there was a nice breeze, even if the air was cleaner here than deeper in the city. The apartment, though bought years ago, hadn’t felt like home to her until she’d paid off Sam Cortland’s debts to Arobynn Hamel, King of Assassins. They’d only had a few weeks together. Then he was dead. The lock on the large, rolling door was new, and inside the warehouse, the towering stacks of crates full of ink remained in prime condition. No dust coasted the back staircase. Either Arobynn or another face from her past would be inside. Good. She was ready for another fight. When she opened the green door, a knife angled behind her, the apartment was dark. But not empty. It smelled a little like the sharp tang of magic…something that does not—should not—exist in this empire. It set her nerves on end. It was a matter of a few moments to check the apartment – the great room, the kitchen, her bedroom (untouched), and the guestroom…there, the intruder slept on her side, back exposed to the door, in the middle of the bed. From the looks of it, a young girl, sleeping deeply, curled up on herself. Aelin rolled her eyes and sheathed the knife, crossing her arms. What the rutting hell was she supposed to do with her? She tapped her foot impatiently. The girl twitched, flinched, and then sighed in her sleep. Restless. Cold, probably, given the chill in the air. Aelin considered who she might be—some kind of gift from Arobynn? She leaned over the girl to see that she appeared to be wearing a shirt with full sleeves and thick pants but not in a style Aelin had seen before. The clothes were much too big for her and, despite the warmth they offered, she shivered. Her skin was flushed, and her nose was pressed into the covers. The girl muttered something and flinched again. Then jerked, making a small, distressed noise. Aelin jumped back, knife already angled for defense once more. The girl didn’t wake. Aelin considered waking her up in case it was a nightmare. She didn’t need a strange girl screaming in her guestroom. Gooseflesh raised on the girl’s arm and leg exposed to the air. “Hey,” Aelin said, her voice too loud in the quiet apartment, sheathing her knife again. “Umm—hello?” She reached out to shake her shoulder, but the girl shot up in the bed. The girl scrambled back and nearly fell of the far side of the bed, wisely putting distance between herself and Aelin. The light defensive stance, the fists raised as if to fend her off… Aelin had to give the girl some props for her swiftness. Her eyes were wide and pinned on Aelin. Aelin kept her stance loose, hands in easy reach of her weapons. “Good of you to wake. Enjoy your nap?”