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all those times music had calmed or unleashed her magic. It was a part of her soul—as much as he was.
This piece was a celebration—a reaffirmation of life, of glory, of the pain and beauty in breathing.
Aelin, who’d been swiping grapes off Rowan’s plate, snorted. “Breakfast, it seems, is the only meal any of us are decent at. And this one”—she jabbed a thumb in Rowan’s direction—“only knows how to cook meat on a stick over a fire.”
“She’ll be taken care of,” Rowan said.
His shirt, he noticed with no small amount of male satisfaction.
It was enormous on her. It was so easy to forget how much smaller she was than him. How mortal. And how utterly unaware of the control he had to exercise every day, every hour, to keep her at arm’s length, to keep from touching her.
He waited, restraining himself from going to her, from asking her to tell him more. That had been their promise to each other: space to sort out their own miserable lives—to sort out how to share them. He didn’t mind. Most of the time.
SAM CORTLAND BELOVED
She opened her fist of pebbles and picked out the three loveliest—two for the years since he’d been taken from her, one for what they’d been together.
I think you would have been a wonderful king.
“It is hope for your homeland that guides you, that makes you obey.”
My mother died defending Aelin Galathynius, the heir to the throne of Terrasen. She bought Aelin time to run. They followed Aelin’s tracks to the frozen river, where they said she must have fallen in and drowned.
Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. And she could have sworn that hunger—ravenous hunger—flickered there.
Rowan moved deeper into the entry hall, every step laced with power and death, coming to a stop at her side. “You can call me Rowan. That’s all you need to know.” He cocked his head to the side, a predator assessing prey. “Thank you for the oil,” he added. “My skin was a little dry.”
You just … She shook her head again. Surprise me sometimes. Good. I’d hate for you to get bored.
There was no part of her that disgusted him, no part of her that scared him, but the thought of her in this place, with these smells, in this darkness …
Rowan touched her elbow. Gods, his self-control had to be in shreds tonight; he couldn’t stop making excuses to touch her. But this touch was essential.
“I swear! We wear the rings, and he makes a cut on our arms—licks our blood so it’s in him, and then he can control us however he wants. It’s the blood that links us.”
I would pay good money to see seventeen-year-old Aelin meet seventeen-year-old Rowan.
Seventeen-year-old Rowan wouldn’t have known what to do with you. He could barely speak to females outside his family.
He would probably have been even more scandalized to learn I’m not wearing any undergarments beneath this dress.
The table rattled as Rowan’s knee banged into it.
“We’ll keep an eye on things—and if you appear to be heading toward Dark Lorddom, I promise to bring you back to the light.”
Rowan stood with his queen in the rain, breathing in her scent, and let her steal his warmth for as long as she needed.
She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.
She would find that love again—one day. And it would be deep and unrelenting and unexpected, the beginning and the end and eternity, the kind that could change history, change the world.
Arobynn was dead.
Queen of the Assassins sounds so nice, doesn’t it?”
This woman, this queen of his … A familiar thrill raced through his blood.
His Fireheart,
Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—
“Legend has it that the Shadow Market was built on the bones of the god of truth.”
Aelin had Rowan.
“I kept thinking about how you might never know that I missed you with only an ocean between us. But if it was death separating us … I would find you. I don’t care how many rules it would break. Even if I had to get all three keys myself and open a gate, I would find you again. Always.”
It was foolish to even start down this road, when every other man she’d let in had left some wound, in one way or another, accidentally or not. There was nothing soft or tender on his face. Only a predator’s glittering gaze. “When we get back,” he said, “remind me to prove you wrong about every thought that just went through your head.”
Lovvveeeee himmmmm
Eyes of the Valg kings, eyes of our masters, it shrieked. Do not touch that one!
Huuuuuh
But perhaps the monsters needed to look out for each other every now and then.
The Queen of Terrasen had saved her life. Manon didn’t know what to make of it. For she now owed her enemy a life debt.
“I would dedicate my life wholly to being your Second. To serving you. Not your grandmother. Because I knew your grandmother had hidden me from you for a reason. I think she knew you would have fought for me. And whatever your grandmother saw in you that made her afraid … It was worth waiting for. Worth serving. So I have.”
Manon gazed westward across the mountains. Hope, Elide had said—hope for a better future. For a home. Not obedience, brutality, discipline. But hope.
“Because that golden-haired witch, Asterin …,” Aelin said. “She screamed Manon’s name the way I screamed yours.” Rowan stilled. His queen gazed at the floor, as if recalling the moment. “How can I take away somebody who means the world to someone else? Even if she’s my enemy.”
She deserved the joy he so often glimpsed on her face when Rowan was near—deserved the wicked laughter she shared with Aedion, the comfort and teasing with Lysandra. She deserved happiness, perhaps more than anyone.
“What if we go on,” he said, “only to more pain and despair? What if we go on, only to find a horrible end waiting for us?” Aelin looked northward, as if she could see all the way to Terrasen. “Then it is not the end.”
He should have enjoyed it. He should have savored every second with his friend. He’d never realized how precious the calm moments were.
Aelin leaned against the closet doorway, clad in a nightgown of gold. Metallic gold—as he’d requested.
If he moved an inch, he’d be on her, would take her in his arms and begin learning just what made the Heir of Fire really burn.
Gods, that scent. From the moment he’d bitten her neck in Wendlyn, the moment he’d tasted her blood and loathed the beckoning wildfire that crackled in it, he’d been unable to get it out of his system.
Are they mates?? Can you double mate thl
“Even when we’re apart tomorrow, I’ll be with you every step of the way. And every step after—wherever that may be.”
his entire world went still—at that whisper of a kiss, the answer to a question he’d asked for centuries.
They had walked out of darkness and pain and despair together. They were still walking out of it. So that smile … It struck him stupid every time he saw it and realized it was for him.
