Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass, #3)

by Sarah J. Maas

She didn’t bother with a crown, and Celaena supposed she didn’t need one. Every creature on earth would know who she was—what she was—even if they were blind and deaf. Maeve, the face of a thousand legends … and nightmares.

If her mother had broken a promise … if her mother had kept her from Maeve, it had been for a damn good reason. A reason that tickled at the edges of Celaena’s mind, a blur of memory.

Celaena loosed a breath and rubbed her eyes. What Maeve didn’t understand, what she could never understand, was just how much that little princess in Terrasen had damned them a decade ago, even worse than Maeve herself had. She had damned them all, and then left the world to burn into ash and dust. So Celaena turned away from the stars, nestling under the threadbare blanket against the frigid cold, and closed her eyes, trying to dream of a different world. A world where she was no one at all.

Manon had been born soulless, her grandmother said. Soulless and heartless, as a Blackbeak ought to be. She was wicked right down to the marrow of her bones. But the people in those wagons, and the duke, they smelled wrong. Different. Alien.

“We are going to have to run in a moment. What form you take when we do will determine our fates. So breathe, and shift.” Though every instinct screamed against it, she closed her eyes. Took a breath. Then another. Her lungs opened, full of cool, soothing air, and she wondered if Rowan was helping with that, too. 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.

Mala, Sun Goddess and Light-Bringer, was sister and eternal rival to

Deanna, Keeper of the Moon.

“Did you know that Evalin Ashryver was my friend? She spent almost a year working in this kitchen—living here with us, fighting to convince your queen that demi-Fae have a place in your realm. She fought for our rights until the very day she departed this kingdom—and the many years after, until she was murdered by those monsters across the sea. So I knew. I knew who her daughter was the moment you brought her into this kitchen. All of us who were here twenty-five years ago recognized her for what she is.”

“When my mate died, it took me a very, very long time to come back.” It took her a moment to think of what to say. “How long ago?” “Two hundred three years, twenty-seven days ago.” He gestured to the tattoo on his face, neck, arm. “This tells the story of how it happened. Of the shame I’ll carry until my last breath.”

“Ah. And is the curse broken?” “Not yet. But when we find the Crochan who can undo it …” She would enjoy that bloodletting. “Such a delightfully nasty curse. You won the land, only for the cunning Crochans to curse it beyond use. Have you seen the Wastes these days?” “No,” Manon said. “I have not yet been to our home.” “A merchant came by a few years ago—he told me there was a mortal High King who had set himself up there. But I heard a whisper on the wind recently that said he’d been deposed by a young woman with wine-red hair who now calls herself their High Queen.”

“Then it’s good I’m not a queen, isn’t it?” But he wouldn’t let go of her hand. “You have sworn to free your friend’s kingdom and save the world—but will not even consider your own lands. What scares you about seizing your birthright? The king? Facing what remains of your court?” He kept his face so close to hers that she could see the flecks of brown in his green eyes. “Give me one good reason why you won’t take back your throne. One good reason, and I’ll keep my mouth shut about it.”

red and blue flames utterly hers, this heir of fire. Spying him at last, she smiled faintly. A queen’s smile.