More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
It hadn’t been the fact that, even from a distance, she could see his turquoise eyes—her eyes,
Tall, broad-shouldered, every inch of him seemingly corded with muscle, he was a male blooded with power.
another Fae trait. One she could have if she—
More silent witnesses to her arrival. Because Celaena was Fae, or something like a mongrel. 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.
He didn’t believe for one moment that Chaol would willingly sanction the deaths of innocent men,
And the Crown Prince still had no idea who she was.
She’d had enough of friends. Enough of them dying, too.
the damned name she had dreaded and hated and tried to forget
My aunt. Not our aunt.
“Fae like you make me understand the King of Adarlan’s actions a bit more, I think.”
So I’ll keep your daggers until you’ve earned them back.”
“Why should I waste flattery on a child who’s already in love with herself
There were few sounds she enjoyed more than the groans of dying men, but the wind was one of them.
gold-flecked black eyes, the heirloom of the Blackbeak Clan’s purest bloodline,
“Riders for his wyverns—to be his aerial cavalry. He’s been breeding them in the Gap all these years.”
magic two years ago—she could do anything she wanted, summon any element, and she was here a week before Maeve called her to Doranelle
And Chaol would always help him, his friend, his prince.
Faster than lightning, his hand shot out and she gagged, jolting as he grabbed her tongue between his fingers. She bit down, hard, but he didn’t let go. “Say that again,” he purred.
“You don’t bite the women of other males.”
“You would probably have been more useful to the world if you’d actually died ten years ago.”
Her mother had called her Fireheart.
If she doesn’t have either, that’s when she’ll turn into what they’re afraid of.”
“I see her slipping away, bit by bit, because you shove her down when she so desperately needs someone to help her back up.”
“I will do whatever I please.”
“You do not apologize,” he said, “for defending the people you care about.”
She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one.
But that hadn’t been strength—it had been the rage and grief of a broken, crumbling person.
No longer would they be locked away in her heart. No longer would she be ashamed.
You have known all this time how to break it—you have known for five hundred years that your salvation lies in your hands alone. No, our great secret is that we pity you.”
The threat you posed when you chose mercy and saved your rival’s life.”
“They have made you into monsters. Made, Manon. And we feel sorry for you.”
“There is a queen in the north, and she has already beaten you once. She will beat you again. And again. Because what she represents, and what your son represents, is what you fear most: hope.
She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius—and she would not be afraid.
