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the white-tailed hawk that had been perched atop a nearby chimney all morning,
Rowan!
Queen Maeve of the Fae. Maeve knew everything—as was expected when you were older than dirt.
Wendlyn. A land of myths and monsters—of legends and nightmares made flesh.
Galan Ashryver, Crown Prince of Wendlyn,
All Fae possessed a secondary animal form. Celaena was currently in hers, her mortal human body
“Rowan.”
Because Celaena was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir to the throne and rightful Queen of Terrasen.
Aedion Ashryver—the King of Adarlan’s infamous General of the North and cousin to Aelin Galathynius—stalked
the Bane—Aedion’s legion—was
as he beheld what glinted on Aedion’s finger. A black ring—the same that the king,
“The Sword of Orynth,” Aedion drawled.
Manon
Manon Blackbeak, heir to the Blackbeak Witch-Clan,
In her bones, in her blood and breath and soul, she was so, so tired.
Poor girl
And there, lurking over the rim of a nearby boulder, were three sets of small, glowing eyes.
They had always known her, the Little Folk.
Her great-grandmother had been Maeve’s sister, proclaimed a goddess when she died. Ridiculous, really. Mab had been very much mortal when she tied her life to the human prince who loved her so fiercely.
Sorscha,”
Silba, goddess of healers and bringer of peace—and gentle deaths—she’d
she still had her weekly letter to write to her friend, who wanted every little detail about the palace.
“Prince Rowan—” Prince. She swallowed the urge to turn to him. “—is from my sister Mora’s bloodline.
There were legends whispered over fires about the other skin Maeve wore. No one had lived to tell anything beyond shadows and claws and a darkness to devour your soul.
Such a rare gift—the ability to summon and manipulate flame.
Become queen.
Faster than she could sense, faster than anything had a right to be, he punched her.
Manon’s Thirteen,
her grandmother’s gold-flecked black eyes, the heirloom of the Blackbeak Clan’s purest bloodline,
when her grandmother had seen that Manon’s were wholly of pure, dark gold, the Matron had carried her away from her daughter’s still-cooling corpse and proclaimed Manon her undisputed heir.
Asterin, her second in command,
Sorrel, her Third.
It had been a while—too damn long—but Manon could feel the threads of fate twisting around them, tightening.
Emrys,”
Luca,”
Three-Faced Goddess
the Blueblood Matron was tall and willowy, more priestess than warrior. She wore the traditional deep blue robes, and a band of iron stars circled her brow.
The bluebloods remind me of priestesses in ACOTAR outfit and desxdiption
Mist shrouded everything below the bridge—a mist that hadn’t vanished in the day they’d been here, or the days they’d hiked up the Gap.
Mists?? Like thin places in this world (CC3 mists)
the green-eyed twins Faline and Fallon, more demon than witch—had
“We are the Thirteen, from now until the Darkness claims us.”
Vesta
“Why bother? Maybe the world’s not worth saving.” She knew he meant it, too. Those lifeless eyes spoke volumes.
Wendlyn. Land of nightmares made flesh, where legends roamed the earth.
He was helping. And he was willing to meet a horrible fate in order to keep her alive. He hadn’t left her alone. She hadn’t been alone.
It was a weapon, her power. A different sort of weapon than blades or arrows or her hands. A curse.
He unfastened his cloak. “Because I said so, that’s why.” And she might have told him it was the worst gods-damned reason she had ever heard, and that he was an arrogant prick, had he not tossed her his cloak—dry and warm. Then he dropped his jacket in her lap, too.
I love them slowly coming together and becoming friends
Again, Manon felt that ebb and flow in the world, that invisible current that some called Fate and some called the loom
of the Three-Faced Goddess.
But that current was still flowing, flowing toward the fight, not away from it. And she owed the bait beast a life debt. So Manon did the most foolish thing she’d ever done in her long, wicked life.
Manon named her wyvern Abraxos, after the ancient serpent who held the world between his coils at the behest of the Three-Faced Goddess.
The first shred of Aelin’s court. The court he’d raise for her to shatter Adarlan’s chains.
Vesta
