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“You make me want to live, Rowan. Not survive; not exist. Live.”
Payment for a life debt. One sentence just for Aelin Galathynius; one sentence that changed everything: WITCH KILLER— THE HUMAN IS STILL INSIDE HIM
Ashryver eyes met her own, and she touched the face that was the other side of her fair coin. “For Terrasen,” she said to him. “For our family.” “For Marion.” “For us.”
Then she smiled with every last shred of courage, of desperation, of hope for the glimmer of that glorious future. “Let’s go rattle the stars.”
Dorian. His name was Dorian. Dorian Havilliard, and he was the Crown Prince of Adarlan. And Celaena Sardothien—Aelin Galathynius, his friend … she had come back for him.
Aelin and Dorian, hand in hand, glowing like newborn gods as their magic entwined.
Infinite—Dorian’s power was infinite.
Erawan was Perrington.
And now you are back—all the players in the unfinished game. The Galathynius line—and the Havilliard, which he has hated so fiercely all this time. Why he targeted my family, and yours.”
The Crown Prince tipped his head back to the sky and roared, and it was the battle cry of a god. Then the glass castle shattered.
For the city that had offered her joy and pain, death and rebirth, for the city that had given her music, Aelin kept that wall of fire burning bright.
The glass castle was gone. The king was dead.
“My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” she said. “And I am the Queen of Terrasen.”
The King of Adarlan was dead. Destroyed by Aelin Galathynius.
She was a Blackbeak; she was no one’s slave. No one’s prize horse to breed. Neither was Elide.
Regret. It had been regret she’d felt that night she’d killed the Crochan.
It was regret that she’d felt when she heard Asterin’s tale. For not being worthy of trust.
Brutality. Discipline. Obedience. It did not seem like a weakness to fight for those who could not defend themselves. Even if they weren’t true witches. Even if they meant nothing to her.
“You find Celaena Sardothien. Give her this. No one else. No one else. Tell her that you can open any door, if you have the key. And tell her to remember her promise to me—to punish them all. When she asks why, tell her I said that they would not let me bring the cloak she gave me, but I kept a piece of it. To remember that promise she made. To remember to repay her for a warm cloak in a cold dungeon.”
She was death, devourer of worlds.
Kaltain unleashed the last of her shadowfire, tipping her face to the ceiling, toward a sky she’d never see again.
Kaltain smiled, and at last burned herself into ash on a phantom wind.
The Crown Prince had such tremendous power. Rowan had never seen its like. He’d need to find a way to train it—hone it—or risk it destroying him.
The prince had raw magic that could be shaped into anything.
She growled when he tried to set her on the toilet itself, and he left with his hands upraised, his eyes dancing as if to say Can you blame me for trying? You might very well fall into it instead.
“Next time we need to save the world, we do it together.”
“You make me want to live, too, Aelin Galathynius,” he said. “Not exist—but live.”
I think that whole time, all those centuries, I was just looking for you.”
Aelin gazed at the Fae Prince who held her—at her friend, who had traveled through darkness and despair and ice and fire with her.
the Fae warrior’s arms locked around her as he looked at her the way she deserved to be looked at.
Rowan didn’t so much as glance Aedion’s way before a wind snapped through the suite, slamming the bedroom door in Aedion’s face.
“Tired,” Chaol admitted, flexing his free hand. His chest ached from where the blast had hit him, but the rest of him felt— He didn’t feel anything. He couldn’t feel his legs. His toes.
“There’s never been a woman in the king’s guard before,” Dorian said, heading for the door. “And since you’re now Lord Chaol Westfall, the King’s Hand, I needed someone to fill the position. New traditions for a new reign.”
“If I have to be stuck with king duty, then you’re going to be stuck right there with me. So go to the Torre Cesme and heal fast, Chaol. Because we’ve got work to do.”
“Let’s have an adventure, Nesryn Faliq.”
Limping, Elide began the long journey home.
Ten years later, and they were all sitting together at a table again—no longer children, but rulers of their own territories. Ten years later, and here they were, friends despite the forces that had shattered and destroyed them.
“It was like dying a little every day. It was like being alive, too. It was joy so complete it was pain. It destroyed me and unmade me and forged me. I hated it, because I knew I couldn’t escape it, and knew it would forever change me.
A land of towering mountains—the Staghorns—spread before them, with valleys and rivers and hills; a land of untamed, wild beauty. Terrasen.
And the smell—of pine and snow … How had she never realized that Rowan’s scent was of Terrasen, of home? Rowan came close enough to graze her shoulder and murmured, “I feel as if I’ve been looking for this place my entire life.”
And at long last, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was home.
To Annie, aka the greatest dog of all time: Sorry for accidentally eating all your turkey jerky that one time. Let’s never mention it again. (Also, I love you forever and ever. Let’s go cuddle.)
