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“I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn. I don’t care what you say and how much you protest. I claim you as my friend.”
She had wanted to save lives, yes. But she had gone out there with no intention of saving her own.
Rowan was screaming as the creature pulled her into its arms. As she stopped fighting. As her flames winked out and darkness swallowed her whole.
It was a message to the world. Aelin was a warrior, able to fight with blade or magic. And she was done with hiding.
She was the sovereign of a strong people and a mighty kingdom. She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one.
No longer would they be locked away in her heart. No longer would she be ashamed.
She lifted her face to the stars. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir of two mighty bloodlines, protector of a once-glorious people, and Queen of Terrasen. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius—and she would not be afraid.
