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“Hello, Aelin Galathynius.”
His magic erupted.
“Aelin is alive.”
moment that lasted for a heartbeat, that lasted for eternity. “You’re mine,” Manon said to him.
Until she heard that noise of undiluted, unyielding joy.
“He’ll be very cold and very wet. And possibly die.”
Because this was still his kingdom. He was working for Dorian, not Aelin—not Aedion. And he didn’t know where all of this put him.
“Who did that to you?”
So she left Rowan in the hall. But it did not stop her from wishing she could keep him.
“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 lied to him. 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.
“You eat like a fine lady,” she told him.
It had been a king.
It was a message to the world. Aelin was a warrior, able to fight with blade or magic. And she was done with hiding.
Hold on, the riders told the world. Hold on.
She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one.
And we feel sorry for you.”
is one true king in this room—there always has been. And he is not sitting on that throne.” Dorian stiffened. But Chaol went on.
Ahhhhh! FINALLY CHAOL!
“Don’t you touch him.”
“I love you.”
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.
