“Your king is dead,” she said. The crowd stirred. “Your prince lives.” “All hail Dorian Havilliard,” someone shouted down the street. No one else echoed it. “My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” she said. “And I am the Queen of Terrasen.” The crowd murmured; some onlookers stepped away from the platform. “Your prince is in mourning. Until he is ready, this city is mine.”
